You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.

Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. (Matthew 5:14-16)

But now Christ has bee raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep. For since by a man came death, by a man also came the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:20-22)

Happy Easter!

This is an article I read three years ago that retells the story of Jesus’ work on the cross. It’s long, but please take the time to read it all.

And thank God that He sent His only Son to endure this for you.

Jesus is bowed and bloody, 110 pounds of lumber is strapped across his shoulders. The weight of the rough wood proves too much as it grinds against the lacerations left by the Roman scourging. Pain explodes like light in Jesus’ brain. And he crumples under the beam.

When he comes to, Jesus feels somehow weightless and he realizes that the wooden crossbeam has been cut from his back. Another man is carrying it now, a dark man whose face he cannot see. But he does see the face of another.

Mercifully, a Roman centurion bends and takes Jesus under the arm to lift him gently to his feet again. Jesus looks up and holds the soldier captive in his gaze. The victim’s eyes do not pierce the centurion with the hatred he expects. Instead, he finds love in those eyes. Love mingled with pain, yes — brokenhearted love — but love nonetheless. And not a love excited by one mere act of kindness. This love preceded the moment. This love preceded his existence. This love preceded the existence of the world. Somehow the centurion knows that these are the eyes of Eternal Love.

Jesus holds the soldier’s gaze as long as he can. But the blood that dripped off the ends of his hair to the ground when he was bent low under the cross now drops into his eyes. The blood mixed with sweat stings, and Jesus blinks.

By this time Friday, Jesus is familiar with that sting. But it was a new sensation on Thursday night in the garden.
There, in the garden, he walked with his friends singing hymns and speaking quietly. They passed through the city gate and walked up the hill of Gethsemane through the olive trees. But there were only eleven friends with Jesus—not twelve. One of the twelve chosen proved no friend at all. Satan already held Judas, the betrayer, by the hand then and now he has him by the neck. Judas hangs pale and gasping swinging from the end of his belt under the limb of a tree. The flames of hell are already lapping at his feet. It would have been better if he had never been born.

Eleven remained then. But soon there would be none. Not one friend would stay. Strike the Shepherd and the sheep will scatter. One would run terrified out of the garden naked and the rest would follow.

Jesus fell on his face in prayer. He tasted the dirt as he fought for the eternal destinies of his eleven sleeping sheep a stone’s throw away.

“Let the cup pass,” he cried. “Father, if possible, let the cup pass!”

The Father gazed lovingly at his Son and the Son stared back knowingly.

“Your will be done, Father,” whispered the Son.

And the Father held out the cup and Jesus looked in. What he saw there flung him into the throes of agony. He pressed his forehead deep into the dirt, which softened into mud when mingled with his tears. Jesus felt several small explosions of pain underneath the skin on his face. His tiny capillaries in the sweat glands burst under the stress and blood flowed through his pours and dropped into his eyes. And it stung.

Jesus lifted his head to the sky and cried out, “I will drink from this cup, Father. I will drink from this cup so that your glory may be vindicated and my name may be glorified. And so that the sheep that you have given me will see our glory and enjoy it forever. I will drink on behalf of our rescue mission.”

Just then, through blurry eyes, Jesus saw the line of torches slithering like a snake up the hill to the garden. The mob arrived. Judas kissed. Friends fled. Soldiers arrested. And Jesus’ world became a swirl of torment and mockery.
His trial was a sham as liars lied and mockers mocked. God claimed to be God, and it was called blasphemy. And the face that Moses longed to see — the face that he was forbidden to see — was slapped and spit on. More blood in the eyes; more stinging.
As he was dragged from the High Priest’s house, Jesus managed a bloody-eyed glance at Peter. This friend ran from the garden, but this friend followed. And this friend had done the unthinkable three times. This friend denied the Friend of friends. This friend denied the Friend of sinners. He invoked a curse to lend credence to his denials. And now the cock crowed. And Jesus held Peter in the gaze of Eternal Love. But Peter looked away and ran. Just outside the city gate he stumbled and fell to the ground heaving sobs and considered joining Judas on his tree. But he pleaded to the Father for forgiveness instead. And the Father looked a few hours into the future to Friday afternoon, and, on behalf of what he saw there, he granted Peter the forgiveness he requested.
The Governor of Judea was up early this cold, gray, wet Friday morning. The city still slept as the priests and soldiers led Jesus to the palace of Pontius Pilate. But soon the priests would have a sympathetic crowd as news of Jesus’ arrest passed from house to house.

They leveled their charges: “This man forbids us to pay tribute to Caesar and he calls himself a king.”

Pilate stared intently at Jesus. He questioned him. And found no guilt. Neither did King Herod. So Pilate offered to release Jesus to the swelling crowd. But they chose freedom for the murderer Barabbas instead.

“Then what should I do with Jesus of Nazareth?” Pilate shouted to the mob.

The mob thundered back: “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

And their voices prevailed. Pilate washed his hands and delivered the Innocent One to death.
Next, Jesus was stripped and his hands were tied above his head to a post. A large, shirtless Roman legionnaire stepped toward Jesus fondling a short whip. Several heavy, leather thongs hung off the handle weighed down by the small balls of lead attached near the ends of each. The muscles in the legionnaire’s back and arms bulged as he brought down the heavy whip with full force again and again and again across Jesus’ shoulders and back and buttocks and legs.

The Jews would have been more merciful — no more than thirty-nine lashes. But the Romans extended no such mercy. And the balls of lead yielded large deep bruises. Then the bruises were eventually broken open by the endless blows. The thongs cut through the skin and then they cut deeper into muscles. From behind, Jesus no longer looked human. His skin hung in long, bloody ribbons of tissue.

Fearing they had gone too far and killed Jesus before it was time, the soldiers cut him loose. He fell in an unconscious heap at their feet.

As Jesus came to he was forced to stand. A purple robe, not his own, was wrapped around him and clung to his open wounds. They made him hold a stick — a mock scepter. And now the King of the Jews needed a crown. One of the Romans picked up a thorn branch from a pile of firewood and braided it into a circle. Never did thorns compose so rich a crown — or so painful a crown. Another soldier took the scepter from the hand of the King of kings and beat the crown into his skull. Bloody sweat blinded him. And his stinging eyes momentarily took his mind off the pain in his back.

But then the purple robe was torn from Jesus. And ribbons of flesh that adhered to the cloth were ripped off with its removal. Each wound had a voice of its own to shriek its pain. And Jesus collapsed again.
Now Jesus is dressed in his own clothes. And before the merciful centurion can move Jesus along behind the dark man now carrying the cross, an old woman approaches and wipes Jesus’ face with a linen cloth. Jesus looks her in the eyes and then looks to the crowd of weeping women behind her.

And he says, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. The days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed.’ Then they will say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’”

And to the old woman he adds, “If they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it’s dry?”

Then Jesus walks on beyond the city gates. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Friday.

Through the steady rain Jesus glances up from the base of a rocky hill. It’s named Golgotha — the Skull.

At the top he sees several posts fixed in the ground. Three of those poles stand ready to receive their crossbeams and the tattered body of Jesus and the two criminals carrying their crosses behind him.

At the top of the hill the merciful centurion hands Jesus a cup. Jesus sniffs the liquid. It’s wine mixed with myrrh, a mild narcotic to dull the pain. But Jesus is meant to feel all the pain. So he hands the cup back. This is not the cup of the Father.

A soldier strips Jesus. Again his back is set on fire as skin tears away with the cloth.

Jesus now lays naked in the dirt. The dark man places the crossbeam by Jesus’ head. This time Jesus sees his face. It is Simon of Cyrene. Jesus knows him by name and did before there was time.
The beam becomes his pillow now. Two men take hold of his hands. The soldier on his left yanks his arm as far as it will go. But the soldier to his right is gentler. Jesus turns to him. It’s the merciful centurion again. He picks up a cold spike and places it to Jesus’ wrist. Then he picks up a hammer. Their eyes meet. Eternal Love shines forth again, and the centurion is undone. He looks away and lifts his hammer.

In that moment Jesus hears his own word of power: the word of power that holds the merciful centurion in existence, the word of power that causes the hammer to be. He’s speaking it all into being: the soldiers, the priests, the thieves, the friends, the mothers, the brothers, the mob, the wooden beams, the spikes, the thorns, the ground beneath him, and the dark clouds gathering above. If he ceases to speak they will all cease to be. But he wills that they remain. So the soldiers live on, and the hammers come crashing down.

Jesus is lifted on his crossbeam to the post. He sags held only by the spikes in his wrists. Jesus designed the median nerves in his arms that are working perfectly now. The pain shoots up those nerves and explodes in his skull as the crossbeam is set in place.

His left foot is now pressed against his right foot. Both feet are extended, toes down, and a spike is driven through the arch of each. His knees are bent.

Jesus immediately pushes himself up to relieve the pain in his outstretched arms. He places his full weight on the spikes in his feet and they tear through the nerves between the metatarsal bones. Splinters from the post pierce his lacerated back — searing agony.

Quickly waves of cramps overtake him — deep, throbbing pain from his head to his toes. He’s no longer able to push himself up and his knees buckle.

He’s hanging now by his arms. His pectoral muscles are paralyzed and his intercostals are useless. Jesus can inhale, but he cannot exhale. His compressed heart is struggling to pump blood to his torn tissue. He fights to raise himself in order to breathe and in order to speak.

He looks down at the soldiers now gambling for his clothes. He pushes himself up through the violent pain to pray aloud, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they do.”

Then he sags back into silence. But the crowd is not silent, though he can barely hear their taunts through the din of his pain.

“He saved others, let him save himself!”

“If you’re the Christ, come down off the cross!”

“Save yourself, King of the Jews!”

The criminal on the cross to his left joins the mockery. But the thief to his right repents. Jesus pushes himself up to say to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
It’s noon now. The rain falls harder and the clouds blacken. Jesus looks down through wet strands of hair into the familiar face of a woman. A new pain grips him — greater pain than all the whips and spikes in the Kingdom of Rome. It’s his mother. She’s sobbing so hard that her breathing is as labored as his. Without words she looks into his eyes and begs to know why. He longs to hold her and to tell her that it’s all for her. He pushes upward and says, “Woman.” Then he looks his friend John in the eyes. John is standing behind her supporting his own weeping mother. “He is now your son.”

Then to John Jesus murmurs, “And she is now your mother. Take her away from here.”

And he sags back into silence, back into countless hours of limitless pain.
Then Jesus is startled by a foul odor. It isn’t the stench of open wounds. It’s something else. And it crawls inside him. He looks up to his Father. His Father looks back, but Jesus doesn’t recognize these eyes. They pierce the invisible world with fire and darken the visible sky. And Jesus feels dirty. He hangs between earth and heaven filthy with human discharge on the outside and, now, filthy with human wickedness on the inside.

The Father speaks:

Son of Man! Why have you sinned against me and heaped scorn on my great glory?

You are self-sufficient and self-righteous — consumed with yourself and puffed up and selfishly ambitious.

You rob me of my glory and worship what’s inside of you instead of looking out to the One who created you.

You are a greedy, lazy, gluttonous slanderer and gossip.

You are a lying, conceited, ungrateful, cruel adulterer.

You practice sexual immorality; you make pornography, and fill you mind with vulgarity.

You exchange my truth for a lie and worship the creature instead of the Creator. And so you are given up to your homosexual passions, dressing immodestly, and lusting after what is forbidden.

With all your heart you love perverse pleasure.

You hate your brother and murder him with the bullets of anger fired from your own heart.

You kill babies for your convenience.

You oppress the poor and deal slaves and ignore the needy.

You persecute my people.

You love money and prestige and honor.

You put on a cloak of outward piety, but inside you are filled with dead men’s bones — you hypocrite!

You are lukewarm and easily enticed by the world.

You covet and can’t have so you murder.

You are filled with envy and rage and bitterness and unforgiveness.

You blame others for your sin and are too proud to even call it sin.

You are never slow to speak.

And you have a razor tongue that lashes and cuts with its criticism and sinful judgment.

Your words do not impart grace. Instead your mouth is a fountain of condemnation and guilt and obscene talk.

You are a false prophet leading people astray.

You mock your parents.

You have no self-control.

You are a betrayer who stirs up division and factions.

You’re a drunkard and a thief.

You’re an anxious coward.

You do not trust me.

You blaspheme against me.

You are an un-submissive wife.

And you are a lazy, disengaged husband.

You file for divorce and crush the parable of my love for the church.

You’re a pimp and a drug dealer.

You practice divination and worship demons.

The list of your sins goes on and on and on and on. And I hate these things inside of you. I’m filled with disgust, and indignation for your sin consumes me.

Now, drink my cup!

And Jesus does. He drinks for hours. He downs every drop of the scalding liquid of God’s own hatred of sin mingled with his white-hot wrath against that sin. This is the Father’s cup: omnipotent hatred and anger for the sins of every generation past, present, and future — omnipotent wrath directed at one naked man hanging on a cross.

The Father can no longer look at his beloved Son, his heart’s treasure, the mirror-image of himself. He looks away.

Jesus pushes himself upward and howls to heaven, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Silence.

Separation.

Jesus whispers, “I’m thirsty,” and he sags.

The merciful centurion soaks a sponge in sour wine and lifts it on a reed to Jesus’ lips. And the sour wine is the sweetest drink he ever tasted.

Jesus pushes himself up again and cries, “It is finished.” And it is. Every sin of every child of God has been laid on Jesus and he drank the cup of God’s wrath dry.

It’s three o’clock, Friday afternoon, and Jesus finds one more surge of strength. He presses his torn feet against the spikes, straightens his legs, and with one last gasp of air cries out, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”

And he dies.

The merciful centurion sees Jesus’ body fall far forward and his head drop low. He thrusts a spear up behind Jesus’ ribs—one more piercing for our transgression—and water and blood flow out of his broken heart.

In that moment mountains shake and rocks spilt; veils tear and tombs open.

And the merciful centurion looks up at the lifeless body of Jesus and is filled with awe. He drops to his knees and declares, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”

Mission accomplished. Sacrifice accepted.

Rick Gamache is the senior pastor of Sovereign Grace Church in Bloomington, MN.

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Corinthians 5:4)

We traveled to Michigan this week for the funeral of my Grandpa’s wife, Trudy. Death is such a difficult and sad part of this life…so final.

Or so it seems.

The pastor who led the service reminded us of Jesus’ promise to come back. He will judge the living and the dead. Every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord. It’s going to be both a dreadful and a glorious day.

He likened the burial of the body to the burying of a seed of corn.

When the miraculous takes place under the ground, that corn seed grows up to a giant, green, leafy corn stalk which looks nothing like its humble seed beginning.

And so it will be when Jesus returns and all those who are dead in Christ will be raised in glory and in power.

So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. (1 Corinthians 15:42-44)

This is an amazing promise. And this is the reason we can bury loved ones–who have trusted Jesus Christ alone for their salvation–and not despair, but trust that this is far from the end for them.

I’ve always loved the picture of pure, white snow covering the brown grass and dormant trees. It’s a picture of how Jesus’ righteousness covers us when we believe in Him. This has already been written about on our blog (Probably more than once).

Recently, when looking out on our snow-covered lawn, I observed another interesting snowy analogy.

Snow reveals.

We would barely know about our new (smelly) nocturnal neighbors if it weren’t for the white powder covering the ground. But as it is, we can easily find where these creatures are residing, just by following the footprints.

Is it any different for a person when they walk in the light of God’s truth? The light reveals the things hidden in the darkness (i.e. sin). Thanks be to God that not only does He reveal the smelly sin in us, but He sets us free from it!

For You have delivered my soul from death, Indeed my feet from stumbling, So that I may walk before God In the light of the living.

Psalm 56:13

March 1.

“Come, let us return to the Lord;
for he has torn us, that he may heal us;
he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.

After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will raise us up,
that we may live before him.

Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;
his going out is sure as the dawn;
he will come to us as the showers,
as the spring rains that water the earth.”

Hosea 6:1-3

Thinking about these beautiful verses today, grateful for God’s healing hand, as well as the pain He allows.

Let us press on to know Him.

Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)

Thank You, Jesus, for laying Your life down for us.

While we were enemies of You, You died for us.

Unfathomable.

As Jeremy sat on the couch yesterday working on grammar, he was grasping his broken pencil. He turned toward me and shared a truth from the Bible.

He said, this is how we see us:

and this is how God sees us:

Who knew that even a broken pencil could demonstrate a truth about God.

For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7)

Jesus came to this earth, born as a baby, at just the right time.   It was the time appointed long before by God, the Ancient of Days.   God, because of His unfathomable love for people, told them about the Messiah who was to come and how they must prepare themselves.   They were looking forward to the coming of the Son of God, the Savior of the world.

Lift up your heads, O gates, and be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in! (Psalm 24:7)

Today we look back on the birth of Jesus with joy, knowing that God fulfilled His promise by sending His Son, who not only grew from a boy into a man, but most importantly died and rose again to reconcile people to God.

What’s on my mind this morning is that Christmas is a time to look back and remember that remarkable event, but we do it while also looking forward.   Because the story isn’t over.

For Christ will appear a second time for salvation without reference to sin, to those who eagerly await Him…For yet in a very little while, He who is coming will come, and will not delay. (Hebrews 9:28 and 10:37)

The Son of God is coming again!   He will come and make all things new!   Let’s celebrate by both remembering and looking forward.

After our pear tree fell during a massive storm three years ago, there was a giant void left in the front yard.

A year later, we planted another tree in its place.

An oak tree.

We affectionately call it our oak of righteousness, reminding us of the wonderful truth that God, through Jesus Christ, binds up the brokenhearted, sets captives free, and releases prisoners from the darkness.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor. (Psalm 61)

Here is our “oak of righteousness” all dressed up for Christmas.

May my life be nothing but a display of His splendor.

This kid is continually discovering something intriguing…his mind is always chugging. The other day, he excitedly called me over to look at what he stumbled upon.

He had a telescope lens in his hand, reflecting the window onto a piece of paper.

It was pretty amazing–a clear reflection of the outdoors. Except for the fact that everything was upside down, it was as though I was looking out a window.

It reminded me of the passage in 1 Corinthians that talks about the contrast between the present state of the world and that wonderful day when Jesus comes back:

For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

At the beginning of 2014, I embarked on a goal of reading through the Bible, noting all of God’s promises. I just finished the book of John and wanted to jot down some observations.

In the mere 21 chapters of John, there are 46 promises spoken by Jesus Himself. The number of promises in John is second only to the book of Psalms. John recorded so many promises of Jesus, it’s no wonder this is one of my absolute favorite books of the Bible. It’s one of my faves for more reasons than this, but it sure is encouraging to be told promises like:

Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life.

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.

I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst.

I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness but will have the Light of life.

So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.

If you ask Me anything in My name, I will do it.

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

Happy Independence Day! We plan to celebrate our nation’s independence today by grilling some meat and lighting some sparklers.

I am very thankful for the freedom we experience as citizens of this nation, and this morning I’ve been mulling over how much I esteem freedom and independence. What does the Bible have to say about this topic?

You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free. -John 8:31

and

If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed. -John 8:36

and here’s one to chew on

Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. -Romans 6:16-18

So true freedom is knowing truth through trusting Jesus Christ, and actually leads to utter dependence upon God. Think with me about how Jesus describes Himself.

He is the Light of the world. He who follows Jesus will not walk in the darkness but will have the Light of life. We are totally dependent upon Light.

He says He is the Good Shepherd. A shepherd feeds sheep, leads them to water so they may drink. He protects them from predators and steep cliffs. Without a shepherd, the sheep would wander and starve and die.

He says He is the Vine and we are the branches. Unless the branches of the plant are connected and growing from the vine, they die. They are utterly dependent upon the vine.

Besides these, Jesus calls Himself living water and the bread of life–even more life-giving, life-sustaining necessities upon which we are dependent.

So while I am definitely thankful for the physical freedom I have today in America, I am all the more grateful for the fact that God has set me free from sin and death…to be entirely dependent on Jesus for life now and for eternity.

I love the subtleties in God’s Word. In 1 Samuel 10, the Lord sent Samuel to anoint Saul to be the very first king of Israel. Little did Samuel know, Saul was a big chicken.

Thus Samuel brought all the tribes of Israel near, and the tribe of Benjamin was taken by lot. Then he brought the tribe of Benjamin near by its families, and the Matrite family was taken. And Saul the son of Kish was taken; but when they looked for him, he could not be found. Therefore they inquired further of the Lord, “Has the man come here yet?” So the Lord said, “Behold, he is hiding himself by the baggage.” (1 Samuel 10:20-22)

Contrast that with David a few chapters later. His dad told him to bring food to his brothers who were on the front line of a battle with the Philistine giants.

So David arose early in the morning and left the flock with a keeper and took the supplies and went as Jesse had commanded him. And he came to the circle of the camp while the army was going out in battle array shouting the war cry. Israel and the Philistines drew up in battle array, army against army. Then David left his baggage in the care of the baggage keeper, and ran to the battle line and entered in order to greet his brothers. (1 Samuel 17:20-22)

One man hid behind his baggage, while the other left the baggage behind. It reflects a foundational difference between Saul and David. Saul feared man (1 Sam 15:24), while David feared the Lord (Psalm 27:1).

What do my actions reflect? A fear of people and what they think about me? Or a true fear of the Lord, knowing that today I am living my life before Him, and that when this world is through, I will stand before the Lord only to give an account for my life?

I choose to leave the baggage behind and walk boldly–even to the front lines when necessary–because I fear and trust God. After all, He has promised to be with me just as He was with David.

Then Jesus said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.”

Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.

Luke 24:44-47

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:55-57

Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.

Romans 10:9-10

Sometimes it seems like I have no control over my busyness…there are many people around me with needs; many tasks that practically shout out, “Finish me!”; many emails that remind me of more work that must be completed. My mind spins with all these things that I must do, and if I don’t scribble them down on a list, they are forgotten, except for that nagging guilt that there’s something I’m forgetting. When it all piles up like an unconquerable mountain, I am led to ask,

“What’s most important?”

I saw the danger of busyness the other day in Exodus 5:9. Moses had just left Pharaoh’s presence, having told him, “The God of the Hebrews has met with us. Please, let us go a three days’ journey into the wilderness that we may sacrifice to the Lord our God.”

Pharaoh’s response? First, he assumed that Moses was just trying to get himself and all the Israelites out of work; he accused them of being lazy. Then, he increased their labor. Not only did he no longer provide the straw that the people needed to make bricks, he also upped the quota of bricks they were to make.

He said, “Let the labor be heavier on the men, and let them work at it so that they will pay no attention to false words.”

The second part of that verse struck me: so that they will pay no attention to false words. The false words he’s referring to are the command of the Lord Himself. God told the people to worship Him. Pharaoh did everything he could to distract the people not only from worshiping God, but from hearing Him in the first place.

Is it any different today? The most important, satisfying, meaningful thing we can do while on this earth is worship the Almighty God. To be still before Him. To talk to Him. To know Him more by reading the Bible. But as the busyness piles up, what is the first thing to go? The most important thing–our worship of God.

The good news is: since God has commanded us to love Him with all our heart, soul, strength and mind, we have the power to say NO to anything that keeps us from obeying this command. Let’s not forget the most important thing and be discerning when tasks, demands, and busyness try to get us to pay no attention to God.

Why is it good to celebrate Christmas? Not because of the gifts–neither the receiving nor the giving–not because of the lights and decorations, or the carols.

It is good to celebrate Christmas because it is good to remember what God did over 2,000 years ago. He sent His Son, Jesus, to be born as a helpless baby, so that He would grow up to be a Man who would be the Savior to all who believe in Him. Every one of us is without hope unless we believe in this Savior born as a baby and surrender our lives to Him.

I don’t know exactly when Jesus entered earth as a baby–probably not December 25–but I do know that it is good to remember this amazing act of love from God.

When we were in Colorado, I saw one of my favorite sights.

I love it because it’s a picture of pure snow covering dead branches.

Dead branches being clothed with pure snow.

Like when Job said, “I put on righteousness, and it clothed me”. So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. (Galatians 3)

We are dead in our sin. But when we believe in this Savior, Jesus, and give our lives to Him, He covers us with His pure righteousness. What a wonderful thing to celebrate this Christmas!

These photos are not color corrected. They are naturally saturated with rich hues.

We declared yesterday that God is the ultimate artist. Anything we create is a mere image of what He has already made. I will never tire of gazing at this beauty.

The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains,
The world, and those who dwell in it.
For He has founded it upon the seas
And established it upon the rivers.

December 16 marked 18 years of marriage for Jim and me! We give all the credit to God for first loving us so we would know how to love each other, and for sustaining us 24/7 for these 18 years.

We spent our honeymoon skiing in Colorado, and here we are tackling the mountains, 18 years older!