In spite of the saturation of Jesus culture in America, we are as lost as anyone. And until we come to the realization of that truth, we will continue turning a blind eye to the reality of eternity, focused on our own little gods and trying to make this world our home.
God knows us intimately; we cannot pretend in His presence. His work in our hearts is sometimes painful and requires sacrifice. Sacrifice of our personal agendas and plans, sacrifice of our preferences, sacrifice of our comfort zone.
Dear Friend, I love January. I love the newness—the feeling of a fresh sheet of paper not yet marked, the anticipation of what might be written on the page of this year.
This weekend my seven-year-old asked “What are the American Christmas Carols?” My husband, Justin, and I looked at each other. “Um…?” was the best answer we could come up with.
This is an essay I wrote and read seven years ago for a Christmas Eve service at my church in Clinton, New Jersey. I come back to it every year and remember. This year I thought I would share with the blog world.
We’re preparing for Thanksgiving around our house, as many Americans are doing this week. This year the boys have really taken Thanksgiving to heart and we’ve had several interesting conversations with them. Their thoughts have been surprisingly insightful. I thought I’d share a little of what they had to say.
Lately I’ve been hearing Holy Spirit whispers. Do you ever hear those?