The Wonder of Immanuel, God with Us by Steph Beth Nickel

Wonder…

In the eyes of a child.

In the lyrics of a much-loved Christmas carol.

In the She Reads Truth Advent study.

But…

Is there wonder in my heart?

Is Jesus the focus of my days?

Am I captivated by His sacrifice?

Too often, this is not the case.

Why?

Familiarity too often diminishes the wonder of the season.

Busyness too often consumes my thoughts.

Distractions too often vie for my attention.

What can I do to allow the wonder of the season—and God’s never-ending presence—to sink in and motivate my words and actions?

Commit each task to the Lord.

Focus on the task at hand.

Embrace the quiet.

Meditate on God’s Word.

Commit portions of it to memory.

Fellowship with brothers and sisters in Christ.

Share the wonder with those God’s brings across my path.

How can I embrace the wonder long-term?

Soak in the Truth.

Continue to develop a heart of gratitude.

Be more cognizant of how I spend my time.

Examine my motives for the things I do.

Seek to do everything as unto the Lord.

Make Him known.

Pray more…much more!

Questions for Consideration

Is this time of year filled with wonder or overwhelm?

What one step can you take to increase your sense of wonder this Christmas season?

How will you continue to develop a sense of wonder in the new year?

The Rhythm Came First by Joylene M. Bailey

 

  Image by Frauke Riether from Pixabay

~~~~~

Music is never far away from my mind. I usually wake up with a tune in my head. Sometimes it's a worship song we sang in church three Sundays ago. More often than not, it's a melody I've listened to in the past few days. Instrumental, of course, because that's what I listen to most.

Even when there's no music in my head, there's rhythm. Always rhythm. When I'm walking, when I'm sewing, when I'm baking, when I'm listening to the birds or the trees, even when I'm just breathing, I'm hearing rhythms.

So, that busy Christmas season six years ago, it wasn't unusual to have a rhythm bouncing around in my brain. But there was something special about this one.

Something tingly.

In light of the fact that I was extra busy preparing for the arrival of nine people, including two active toddlers, who would be staying for ten days, you'd think I wouldn't have time to take note of this particular rhythm. But, as I said, there was something special about this one. So, I paid attention.

Ideas started snowballing and my Christmas preparation time intensified. I'd be in the middle of making a bed or adding icing sugar to a recipe when an idea - a word or phrase - would hit, so I'd leave what I was doing to run up to my little study and write it down.

Something about this writing felt important, felt like it wasn't just me writing. It was a collaboration between Father and me, and it was so fun! Him giving ideas, me rushing up to my study to write them down before I forgot.

I wrote lists of words ending in ING, lists of familiar Christmas song phrases that met the DUM de DUM DUM DUM rhythm, all the while consulting with Father - is this the phrase, or is it that one? 

Over the course of three or four days the creativity flowed, and it truly felt like a collaboration. Like He and I were sharing ideas, and I was doing the work. I felt Him watching over my shoulder, MmmHmmm that sounds good. No, try something else there.

A week before Christmas, the poem was finished. I shared it that year as my December InScribe Writers Online post. (You can find it here)

Since then, I've often wondered what it was that made that particular time of writing special. Why did it feel so significantly collaborative?

I like to think that Father knew me well enough to understand that a rhythm would capture my attention. But then it was up to me to stop in my tracks and really listen. And I did. I listened while I worked; while I baked and cleaned and wrapped gifts. And I was willing to interrupt the task at hand (so unlike me) to do the writing work.

I also like to think that the work of the collaboration, and the result, delighted us both.

I don't know how Father God likes to capture your attention, but I've learned that it could be through something that's very every-day. It's then up to us to stop and really listen. 

For me, the rhythm came first. 

~~~~~

Joy is delighting in her new country home where she listens to music, rhythms, and her Father's voice, not necessarily in that order. Find more of her Joy-infused view of the world at her blog, Scraps of Joy.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

It’s What’s Inside That Counts by Bob Jones

The journal was ordinary. Leather cover. Lined pages. Lightweight. The inscription on the inside cover made it extraordinary. That Christmas was seven years ago. The gift comes to mind immediately in reflecting on an experience when God reminded me that He was with me.  

 

As our family grew larger through marriage and grandkids, we adopted new Christmas traditions. One year we drew names and were to purchase a gift for that person. Our daughter-in-law, Angie, drew my name. The journal was a gift from her. She inscribed the inside cover with encouragement to keep on writing,

 

“Dad. Another year, another glimpse into your journey. We pray you are blessed beyond measure.”

 

The inscription was signed by Angie, our son and their three daughters.

 

Angie knew that I keep a journal and write every day. Her gift was thoughtful in so many ways, not the least of which was the inscription. I define success as: those who know me the best love me the most. The inscription was love in black on white.

 

Inscriptions or dedications in books can say a lot with a little. When I'm asked to sign a book I inscribe the title page with something meaningful for the person. Their name. The date. And an encouraging comment suited to their circumstance.

 

Some authors are creative with their inscription. The following four inscriptions caught my attention.

 

Lemony Snicket, “The Reptile Room”

“It is very unnerving to be proven wrong, particularly when you are really right and the person who is really wrong is the one who is proving you wrong and proving himself, wrongly, right. Right?”

 

Robb Hobb, “Ship of Magic”

“To caffeine and sugar, my companions through many a long night of writing.”

 

Sean Carroll, “The Particle at the End of the Universe”

“To Mom,
Who took me to the library.”

 

Victor Wooten, “The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music”

“WARNING

Everything in this book

may be

all wrong.

But if so,

it’s

all right!”

 

Think about the name of our writers’ group. Inscribe Writers. Our friendships, collaboration, the Inscribe posts, and the comments made on those posts are ways of inscribing on each other’s lives. We create support for each other.

The Apostle Paul had a similar sentiment in mind when he wrote to the believers in Corinth, “You yourselves are our letter, inscribed on our hearts, known and read by everyone.”

2 Corinthians 3:2 (The Berean Standard Bible)

 

Paul insists he has the best kind of recommendation letter: the Corinthian Christians themselves. The transformation in them, from pagans to followers of Jesus, is all the evidence he will ever need that his ministry as Christ's representative is the real thing.

 

The best recommendation of Inscribe writers is each other. Our stated purpose is to minister to Canadian Christian writers by stimulating, supporting, and encouraging them in the advancement of their writing. In 2023 our tribe will increase as we pour ourselves into each other and those who become associated with us.

 

Words matter. Especially at Christmas when the “Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” God is with you this Christmas and will be in the year ahead.

 

Merry Christmas!

 

Bob Jones writes to grow hope, inspire people to be real, forge an authentic faith in Jesus, and discover their life purpose. You can follow his writing at REVwords.com

God With Us by Ramona Furst

 

Kerosene lamps were being lit in the mission house. I heard my mother's voice speaking in a whisper to someone outside on the veranda. Later, the mission station's large generator started up the electricity for the compound and Baba, our much-loved African cook, coaxed me out of bed. My sister and I were to stay with another family while my mother had to go to the clinic. Our father, we were told, had been hurt.

 A rogue elephant damaging villager's crops and homes (in the Central African Republic near the Cameroon boarder) had been tracked down by a small group of hunters and my father, who had taken the lead, had been the elephant's chosen target when it turned and charged the group of hunters. Miraculously the elephant did the unthinkable, he picked up my father, crushed him against his chest but when he dropped him to the ground to trample him with a foot (which they often do) he stood briefly for a minute and then walked away. The stunned African hunters waited until the elephant was gone before rushing over to see if my father was dead. God had indeed been with him when he saved his life. Many of the villagers later began to listen to my parents speak about their God who cared enough to save this white missionary's life. 

Not until my father was recovering at home did my parents realize that our family was to be prayed for every February 11th throughout their time in Africa. 

My God encounters haven't been nearly as spectacular as my father's elephant accident, but I have always known when those tailor-made "I love you" moments from God have shown up. They have been timely, unique, suiting my personality and particular need. Even people outside my family who heard me say, "you won't believe what just happened" would often say, "Now that's a God moment for sure."

Unlike God’s presence with Israel, a presence that seemed to come and go, and unlike Jesus who walked with his followers for a limited time, I understand and give thanks for the work of the Holy Spirit who will be my constant companion. (John 14:16,17).

Jesus also said that this advocate would help me. The Holy Spirit does not just walk with me, he helps me to live a holy and godly life. He teaches me the things of God. And he empowers me for service in his kingdom. His help is indispensable for a follower of Christ.

What does it mean? It means that I am never alone. Even in my darkest times, he is with me. I can trust that no matter what might come my way, he will keep me safe. We can have no greater privilege than to have God with us. 

As Oswald Chambers says in My Utmost For His Highest (October 11): "When you cannot hear God, you will find that He has trusted you in the most intimate way possible - with absolute silence ..." 

With a recent and apparent season of silence, I give thanks and acknowledge the sign of intimacy that can be found in his silence. My response? As Oswald Chambers says it is to praise him.

"Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, to God who alone is wise, be honour and glory forever and ever. Amen." (1Timothy 1:17 NKJV)

Ramona Furst can often be found out of doors with her husband and two Labrador Retrievers. If she is not hiking, skiing or kayaking Ramona is in her office writing or painting.