God's Gifts

I love books - and I love to read them, I love the way they look on the shelf and I love to hold a book and read what's written inside. My love of books came from my dear, little mother. She was a librarian for a few years before she traveled from California to Seattle, Washington to attend a tiny Bible Institute where she met my father! Her love for books has always been obvious. Even when she went to Heaven her home was still filled with books - gorgeous, old vintage books with exquisite covers, rare vintage books that are falling apart from much use, complete sets of books by her favorite old authors and newer books that inspire and bless the soul. She read to me from the time I was too young to remember and trips to the local library were a regular event as I grew older. I began to collect books - and I still love books! I love to snoop through the book section of thrift stores and I'm always drawn to books at garage sales. Once in a while I find a book that calls to me and I know I need to add it to my list of books to read. That happened recently in the back corner of a Goodwill near Palm Springs, California! I found a book - just one - that had to come home with me. And I'm enjoying every word!

One of my current favorite fiction authors is Debbie Macomber. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, as do I, and her stories are often set in cities I know. It seems to add something special when I can visualize the setting. While Debbie usually writes fiction, she has written a few non-fiction books that are a great read - and very soul-stirring. I picked up one of those books at the Goodwill when we were traveling through California recently. The opening pages spoke deeply to my soul. She shared a parable that made me think. And search my heart. I'd like to share it with you. She wrote:

"There's a story that goes something like this:
"A woman arrived at the gates of Heaven to be met by St. Peter.
"'You may first want to join the others at the throne,' he said to her, 'and then greet those you loved on earth. But when you are ready, I'll take you on a tour of Heaven.'
"When the time came for her tour, she could hardly take it all in. It reminded her a little of her earthly home, but she could see that earth had only been a pale shadow of what she was seeing now. They explored every nook and cranny of Heaven - waterfalls, fields of flowers, exquisite buildings, and streets of gold.
"As the tour drew to an end, she noticed one massive door they had not yet explored. A gold padlock secured it. 'What's in that room?' she asked.
"You don't want to see that room,' St. Peter said, steering her away from it. 'It's only a storeroom.'
"But I do. May I see inside? I want to see every bit of Heaven.'
"St. Peter didn't answer. Instead he took a large key out of his pocket, put it in the lock, and turned it. The tumblers clicked and the padlock opened. He took the lock off and opened the door. The woman had to blink several times to take it all in. Inside the cavernous room were stacks and stacks of gifts, wrapped in all the colors of the rainbow and tied with all the colors of Heaven.
"She clapped her hands with delight. 'Is this where you store presents for everyone in Heaven?'
 "'No. These gifts are not for Heaven, they were meant for earth.'
"What do you mean were?' She walked through the stacks and came to a pile marked with her name.
'Look, these gifts are for me.' She fingered the paper and ribbons. 'May I open them?'
"No. You don't need them now.' St. Peter put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the door.
"'But if I don't need them now, does that mean I needed them on earth?' She couldn't take her eyes off the pile. To think she would never get to enjoy all those beautifully wrapped gifts.
"He nodded his head. 'Yes, you needed them on earth.'
"She looked around the room, realizing that there must have been millions of gifts. Maybe more, since she couldn't see an end to the room. 'Why weren't my gifts sent to me on earth?' As she looked closer, she could read names on all the gifts. 'Not just my gifts, why haven't any of these gifts around the room been sent?'
"St. Peter sighed. 'You don't understand. Every one of them was sent.' Moving his arm in an arc that encompassed the whole room, he said, 'All of these and more. These are the ones that were returned unopened.' He moved her toward the door. 'Many people on earth don't recognize God's gifts and fail to open them.'"

Debbie goes on to say:

"I love gifts - both giving and receiving. When I first heard this story, I wondered if there was any truth to the parable. Had God sent gifts to me that I hadn't opened? When I get to Heaven, I don't want to discover that I failed to recognize the gifts God sent into my life. I don't want to miss a single one.
"Unfortunately, in real life God's presents don't always come gaily gift-wrapped, and they are not always easily recognized. Some even initially come looking like challenges. And often these gifts are people shaped."
(From 'God's Guest List: Welcoming Those Who Influence Our Lives' written by Debbie Macomber)

Perhaps the reason this parable touches me so deeply is because I watched my dear, little mother embrace the gifts - the people - God sent her way. She was good at that. Very good. Her life made a difference in the lives of many people along her journey here on earth. Perhaps it's because she is so newly arrived in Heaven and, looking back, when all is said and done, I want my life to make a difference. The way she did! I don't want to miss the gifts God sends to me.

Thanksgiving Prayer

Thou hast given so much to me,
give one thing more, – a grateful heart;
not thankful when it pleaseth me,
as if Thy blessings had spare days,
but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.
  
~ George Herbert, Welsh-born English poet

Choosing To Be Content

source

I have learned in whatever situation I am, to be content.
Philippians 4:11 ESV

In his book Money: A User's Manual, Bob Russell describes a farmer who once grew discontent with his farm.  He griped about the lake on his property always needing to be stocked and managed. . . .And those fat cows lumbered through his pasture.  All the fencing and feeding - what a headache!

He called a Realtor and made plans to list the farm.  A few days later the agent phoned wanting approval for the advertisement she intended to place in the local paper.  She read the ad to the farmer.  It described a lovely farm in an ideal location - quiet and peaceful, contoured with rolling hills, carpeted with soft meadows, nourished by a fresh lake, and blessed with well-bred livestock.  The farmer said, "Read that to me again."

After hearing it a second time, he decided, "I've changed my mind I'm not going to sell.  I've been looking for a place like that all my life."

Written by Max Lucado in Cure For The Common Life

Choose To See

  “Even during those times when the path is darkest,
He leaves little bits of evidence all the way
– bread crumbs of grace –
that can give me what I need to take the next step.
But I can only find them if I choose to SEE.”

written by Mary Beth Chapman
from ‘Choosing To SEE: A Journey of Struggle and Hope’

Grace

  O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace.  ― A.W. Tozer

A Christmas Prayer

 

Dear Jesus,

 

It’s a good thing you were born at night. This world sure seems dark. I have a good eye for silver linings. But they seem dimmer lately.

 

These killings, Lord. These children, Lord. Innocence violated. Raw evil demonstrated.

 

The whole world seems on edge. Trigger-happy. Ticked off. We hear threats of chemical weapons and nuclear bombs. Are we one button-push away from annihilation?

 

Your world seems a bit darker this Christmas. But you were born in the dark, right? You came at night. The shepherds were nightshift workers. The Wise Men followed a star. Your first cries were heard in the shadows. To see your face, Mary and Joseph needed a candle flame. It was dark. Dark with Herod’s jealousy. Dark with Roman oppression. Dark with poverty. Dark with violence.

 

Herod went on a rampage, killing babies. Joseph took you and your mom into Egypt. You were an immigrant before you were a Nazarene.

 

Oh, Lord Jesus, you entered the dark world of your day. Won’t you enter ours? We are weary of bloodshed. We, like the wise men, are looking for a star. We, like the shepherds, are kneeling at a manger.

 

This Christmas, we ask you, heal us, help us, be born anew in us.

 

Hopefully,

Your Children

 

'A Christmas Prayer'
Written by Max Lucado
December 14, 2012

Time To Praise

There are only two times to praise -
When you feel like it
and
When you don’t feel like it!

(quote from my dear, little mother)

Linking to Think On These Things

The Greatest Of These

And now these three remain:
faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
I Corinthians 13:13

It’s Christmas Night

When I read this devotion by Max Lucado I knew I wanted to save it to read again each Christmas night.  I share it with you, my friends.  I hope it touches your heart as it does mine.

IT’S CHRISTMAS NIGHT. THE HOUSE IS QUIET. Even the crackle is gone from the fireplace. The last of the carolers appeared on the ten o’clock news. The last of the apple pie was eaten by my brother-in-law. And the last of the Christmas albums have been stored away having dutifully performed their annual rendition of chestnuts, white Christmases, and red-nosed reindeers.

It’s Christmas night.

The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I’m awake. I’m kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed.

The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stopwatches and weapons. We stepped off our race tracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.

It’s the season to be jolly because, more than at any other time, we think of him. More than in any other season, his name is on our lips.

And the result?

For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. People who have been accustomed to using his name in vain, pause to use it in praise. Eyes, now free of the blinders of self, marvel at his majesty.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere.

In the grin of the policeman as he drives the paddy wagon full of presents to the orphanage.

In the twinkle in the eyes of the Taiwanese waiter as he tells of his upcoming Christmas trip to see his children.

In the emotion of the father who is too thankful to finish the dinner table prayer.

He’s in the tears of the mother as she welcomes home her son from overseas.
He’s in the heart of the man who spent Christmas morning on skid row giving away cold baloney sandwiches and warm wishes.

And he’s in the solemn silence of the crowd of shopping mall shoppers as the elementary school chorus sings “Away in a Manger.”

Emmanuel. He is with us. God came near.

It’s Christmas night. In a few hours the cleanup will begin—lights will come down, trees will be thrown out. Size 36 will be exchanged for size 40, eggnog will be on sale for half price. Soon life will be normal again. December’s generosity will become January’s payments and the magic will begin to fade.

But for the moment, the magic is still in the air. Maybe that’s why I’m still awake. I want to savor the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him next August. And I can’t help but linger on one fanciful thought: If he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more could he do if we thought of him every day?



‘It’s Christmas Night’ by Max Lucado
From ‘God Came Near’

In All Things

As we pause to thank Him for the blessings of the past year,
we must not forget to thank Him for the lessons
we have learned through our difficult times.
We are not to be thankful for just the pleasant,
easy things, but all things.
Millie Stamm

Work Can Be Worship

‘Everything you do or say should be done to obey Jesus our Lord.’  Colossians 3:37

Have you seen the painting The Angelus by Jean-Francois Millet?  It portrays two peasants praying in their field.  A church steeple sits on the horizon, and a light falls from Heaven.  The rays do not fall on the church, however.  They don’t fall on the bowed heads of the man and woman.  The rays of the sun fall on the wheelbarrow and the pitchfork at the couple’s feet.

God’s eyes fall on the work of our hands.  Our Wednesdays matter to Him as much as our Sundays.  He blurs the secular and sacred.  One stay-at-home mom keeps this sign over her kitchen sink: ‘Divine tasks performed here daily.’  An executive hung this plaque in her office: ‘My desk is my altar.’  Both are correct.  With God, our work matters as much as our worship.  Indeed, work can be worship.

from ‘Cure For The Common Life’
written by Max Lucado

Waiting

How exciting to know that what you’ve asked God for is on its way.  As God works behind the scenes to bring about everything you’re waiting for, your faith is at work preparing for the arrival of His blessing.
(from Whispers of Faith)

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,
and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
They will put their trust in the Lord.
Psalm 40:1-3

Garden Talk

She stooped over the flowers
and talked about them
as if they were children.

Frances Hodgson

Maybe. . .

‘Just that maybe …
maybe you don’t want
to change the story,
because you don’t know
what a different ending holds.’

Ann Voskamp

But God knows the end of the story and it all makes sense to Him.

Priorities

I want to know the mind of God.
The rest is all details.

Albert Einstein

Faith

I believe in the sun, even though it doesn’t shine,

I believe in love, even when I’m alone,

I believe in God, even when he is silent.

(carved on the wall of a concentration camp)

Spring Thoughts

Flowers leave some of their fragrance
in the hand that bestows them.
- Chinese proverb -

Listening

‘Listening to the still, small voice in your heart
will make hope into a reality.’

Love the sound of His voice in my heart.

Listening. Waiting.

Quietly.

from ‘The Hidden Power of the Heart’
by Sara Paddison

Faith

‘Faith is not the belief that God will do what you want.
It is the belief that God will do what is right.’

from ‘He Still Moves Stones’
written by Max Lucado

God’s Quiet Stream

I will take special notice of the good things when they come. I will fix my mind on what is pure and lovely and upright. . .I will not worry but keep on producing a life that is a blessing for You and others. Let me take time often to come drink from Your quiet stream. I thank You for it.

He leads me beside quiet waters.
Psalm 23:2b

Quotation by Anita Corrine Donihue
From ‘Whispers of Blessing’