Broken Alabaster Boxes

                                                                                                                                                                                                            Photo credits go to my brother The wilderness stretched before them, silently waiting. Dark green limbs covered in white. Frozen peat-moss swamps. Rivers providing a flowing road for the massive trunks. Cold. Survival. Existence. They shouldered their axes and strode into t...

   Christmas Eve. Customers streaming in through the cold and freshly fallen snow to enjoy the warmth and breakfast. Marge was waiting on a customer. Ruth was cooking. The hash round timer was beeping. And of course, the phone was ringing. "I got it," I yelled to Ruth , grabbing the hash rounds out of the oil and shaking them before heading back to the phone. "How can I help you?" "Hi, I was just wondering if my mom, Janice is working," a voice on the other end said. "I'm her daughter, Rachel" "Janice is on break right now," I said. "Can she call you when she gets back?" There was a pause, then, "I haven't talked...well, could I just leave a message." "Sure," I said, wondering. "Tell her I don't want to disappoint her, and that I love her." There was a catch in her voice. Suddenly I heard a daughter calling across many miles to talk to her mother on Christmas, needin...

Many of you may be familiar with Casting Crowns arrangement of this song. However, this song was originally written by a man named John Wilbur Chapman who was an evangelist during the 19th century. If you look in hymn books, you can find the original tune and the remaining words to this moving song, and perhaps if you look in your library you may find a book about this dedicated man. "One day when Heaven was filled with His praises." He was in a place of incomprehensible beauty, Unfathomable for the minds of human beings. And all around Him He was worshiped and adored. "One day when sin was as black as could be." Humanity was writhing in anguish as sin held it in captivity. Saints and sinners alike cried out for deliverance. Who could save? Who could deliver? "Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin." Holy God came as tiny babe. How? It's incomprehensible to human mind. A holy God, coming as a child into a sin-filled w...

A lone figure stands against the store front, leaning on his cane in the cold while waiting for the Christmas parade. I smile and wave at him, and he waves back. "You're here by yourself?" I ask, wondering why he would come alone. He smiles and nods. "I gotta get some joy," he says. Is this where you are getting your joy, Dan? I wondered. A short space of time to watch brightly lit trailers with waving, smiling people. Is this your only joy? He looks lonely. Do you want to know joy? my heart cries. Look to Jesus, Dan. Look to Jesus.

The ground coated in snow, My music playing, And a cup of hot tea, I work in the quiet of our kitchen. The washer hums in the background, And occasionally I am interrupted with school questions, But mostly I revel in the quiet. The kitchen fills with the smell of Christmas baking, And cooling cookies fill waiting wire racks. Helping hands unwrap the treasured chocolate, Then one of the morsels disappears into anticipating mouth. It feels peaceful and safe. I could just stay here, I think. I wouldn't have to go out into that world that I work in, Where there's daily stress and constant pressure. I wouldn't have to be incessantly hounded by the wrong, And constantly have to uphold the right. I could stay in this place with my gentle music and my tea. But that wouldn't be love. That wouldn't be compassion. That wouldn't be what Christ would have. So I go out, And as I go I pray for His protection. Bec...

Adoption. Many envision it as a beautiful, idealistic thing. And it is beautiful. It’s the lonely, hurting child finally finding a family. But it's not idealistic. In reality, adoption is a hard walk both for the family and for the child. Even though the child is placed in a better home, they still long for their real family, their blood kin. Adoption is not what I envisioned it would be. But slowly God is changing my perspective of adoption. He’s showing me what it was like for Him to adopt me. I was not part of His family. I didn’t even remotely belong. I was enstranged and repulsive to the holiness of God. Yet He freely offers adoption. “I want you to be my child,” He says. It’s such a beautiful paradox, a holy God, undgrudgingly offers a sinner a place in His family. This is what adoption means. It’s taking someone who does not belong, who is a complete stranger, who looks at life differently and has a different background. And it’s making them one with you...

I keep coming back to the subject of these candles, so I apologize if you tire of it. It has opened my eyes to the mercy of God that my candle is even lit. We went caroling last week in our local town. Rough looking trailer houses, dark entryways, druggies, emotional wreaks, children barefoot in the cold, and suddenly I saw myself starkly in comparison with these people. All my life I've been sheltered. Surrounding me are people who have invested in my life to keep my candle burning. I've been loved, cared for, directed; given this gift of a Christian home by God's abundant mercy. But these people, they don't have that gift. They're hard and haggard, some of them are druggies or alcoholics. And the children, my heart cries out for them. Eager faces peering at us as we sing, excitedly reaching for the plate of cookies we offer, living in such a dark world. What about their candles? How can it be fair that I was so protected, and they so abused? And sitting ...

In talking with one of my aunts, she pointed out another dimension to the lesson of the candles. So thank you, dear aunt, for this inspiration. It’s another candle in the blowing cold, Another light flickering in the wind. Will it burn? Will it glow warmly? Or will it die? And this time, the candle is me. The wind is at times brutal. The world, so cold. My flame, flickering, struggling, Striving to burn brightly, yet at times only succeeding weakly. Yet protecting the flame is an all-wise High Priest, Interceding, pleading my case to the Father. And He has His all-powerful hands cupped around my struggling flame. There are days I plead, “Oh please keep my flame lit.” There are days it seems it will go out. Yet there is Christ, ever faithful, protecting my candle. But for Him, my candle would be cold.

"Child, why do you serve me?" God asks. "Why, what do you mean?" I question. Yet I know what He means. "Child, why do you serve me?" the question comes again. "Do you serve me because you love me? "Or do you serve me for you? "Child, why do you sing? "If no one listened, would you still have a song? "Would you still praise me? "Would you still worship? "Or do you worship because you know others watch? "Child, why do you smile? "Would you have joy if no one else in your world accepted you? "Would you be confident in who you are in Christ? "Or is your worth based on what others think of you? "Child, why are you reaching out to others? "Would you still do it even if others would never praise you for your kindness? "Would you still love even though others hated you? "Would you still serve even though no one saw you? "Child, why do you believ...

Personally, it was probably one of the most memorable family devotions of my childhood. Recently our family had been heavily involved with several very needy individuals. It was tiring. And frustrating. And hard. That night my dad came in carrying a bucket of snow. And in the snow he placed a handful of candles. "Imagine that each of these candles are people with needs," he said, naming several. "And they are outside in a blizzard. How much of yourself would you give to keep these candles lit, to help them love Jesus? Would you stay out there even though you were cold? Even though you were freezing? Would you protect these souls even though it cost you your life?" My life? I envisioned myself frozen stiff, huddled around a few struggling little lights. I didn't even enjoy helping these people, much less want to give my life to keep these candles burning. But experience has been teaching me that in order for a soul to remain burning, there must be w...

                                                                                                                                 Thanks to Pexel for this picture.    My work day may begin before others rise, tired eyes straining at the road on the way into work, hoping to avoid any would-be road kill. Or it may begin at 2 o'clock in the afternoon when others are beginning to think about going home to supper and a relaxing evening.  We who be fast food workers aren't all as stupid and lazy as you think we are. We work sometimes long, inconvenient hours, spending most of the time on our feet in a fast-paced work environment. We sweep and mop large...

Thank you, God, that I am not that homeless man, standing with a hand-written, cardboard sign, “will work for food.” Thank you, God, that I am not that foster child living with strangers, wishing to return to their broken but familiar family. Thank you, God, that I am not that handicapped lady I see driving aimlessly through town in her motorized wheelchair, confused and lonely. Thank you, God, that I am not that druggy, eyes glazed, unable to rest, a soul tormented by addiction. Thank you, God, that my family has not been torn apart like those from Mexico. Thank you, God, that I am not a refugee, unwanted by the entire world. Thank you, God, that I am not that young girl who deals with depression, who can’t sleep at night. Thank you, God, that I am not that mother in Africa who lost a child, again. Thank you, God, that I have not been abused or neglected. Thank you, God, that my life is good. But what happens when life isn’t good? Nights of tea...

  She was there when I got to work that day, curled up in a back booth with a thin fuzzy blanket. Underneath the booth and surrounding her were bags and a backpack.  “There’s a shopping cart out back with more blankets,” my coworker said.   I wondered who she was and how she survived with a shopping cart in the cold autumn weather. She looked gaunt and haggard. Hopeless and lost. I went to her, not because I was a worker there or because I was a manager, but because I was a person and she needed help.   “Is there anything I can help you with? Anything I can get for you?” I asked.   At first she seemed confused by my question, but then she answered blankly, “No, I’m just waiting for my brother.”   I wondered if it was true.   As I turned away I saw the first small glimmer of life I had seen in her eyes. What was she thinking?   But she couldn’t stay there indefinitely, so eventually the police came. And she was g...

Hello, and welcome to my blog.  Personally, I think every blog should have a purpose. In saying that, then, what is the purpose of this blog? Why have I chosen to write? My first intentions were to have a place for creative writing, a place to make me develop any writing talent I may have. But secondly, and probably more important, is to perhaps share a few of the things I have learned, as simple or hard as they may be. So these posts at times will carry humorous experiences and light subjects. And other times they will carry sorrow and brutal honesty, for that's life. I do not blog to inform the world of my life. I do not write to enforce theology on anyone. Yet in writing there will be glimpses of parts of my life and examples of what I believe. I do not write to sugar-coat my life or explain away the hard things God has given me. I write to learn, and perhaps others can too.  The title of this blog begs for a definition. It comes from Matthew 26:6-13 and Mark 14:3-11. A...