Always Open (Friday Devotional)

 

I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 

- Psalm 121:1-4

It happened for the first time on December 26, with presents all unwrapped and the kids looking for something to do. It happened again the following Monday, when I left the church office thinking I could find a change of scenery. And then it happened for a third and final time on New Year’s Day, when I really should have known better.

Every time, the same story—I drove up to the public library and found its parking lot empty and its doors locked. Closed.

That’s a common occurrence this time of year, when businesses, schools, and organizations give their employees extra time with family before getting back in the swing of things after New Year’s. And even on a normal week, most places have at least one day where their doors are not open. Nevertheless, it’s always a frustrating feeling when you drive somewhere and find out they’re closed for business.

So what a joyous relief to be reminded that there is never a time—not on Saturdays, not on holidays, not in the middle of the night—when God is unavailable to hear our prayers. He never takes a day off, he’s never too busy or too preoccupied to listen, and he never pushes us away.

Whether you come to the Lord with thanksgiving or sorrow, reverence or requests, hallelujahs or cries for help, God is always listening. So don’t be shy about lifting your eyes to heaven, and don’t withhold your prayers—because heaven is always open for business.

My Resolutions for 2025

 

At the beginning of every year I make a lengthy list of resolutions for the new year and share them for my accountability and your entertainment. Some of these are purely personal, some are church-related, and a few are just for funsies. But as of January 1, 2025, I intend to keep them all.

Of course, we'll see how I feel by January 3. Here's the list:

1. Read some poetry every day

You know what's really good at forcing you to slow down? Poetry. Coincidentally, you know what I've read very little of since high school? Poetry.

There's no quantitative goal here—I'm not trying to knock out 10 poetry books or anything like that. Some days I may read one sonnet and then shut the book, other days I may spend half an hour immersed in some poet's collected works. Regardless, I want to devote at least a few minutes every day to the kind of literary beauty that only poetry offers.

2. Memorize Scripture

Recycling this resolution from 2020, because I think most of the 368 verses I memorized that year have fallen out of my brain by now. Scripture memorization is just not something that comes naturally to me, and it's an area where I wish I had more confidence.

I don't have a specific number in mind for this one, I'll just make flash cards in conjunction with my daily devotional time. And I want to be sure I keep those flash cards so I don't have to recreate them again in 2028 when this resolution inevitably makes its next reoccurence.

3. Read Ulysses and Finnegans Wake

I don't get James Joyce, I just don't. I've read Dubliners, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and Ulysses, and after each book I walked away somewhere between underwhelmed and annoyed. I find him pretentious and snobbish, and think half the literati who praise his name are just doing so to fit in with the crowd.

But here's my dirty little secret: I want to see what they're seeing. I don't understand James Joyce, but I wish I did.

So, inspired by our trip to Dublin last year, I'm making this the Year of Joyce. I've accumulated a stack of study guides to aid me in comprehension and I'm going to tackle not only Ulysses, his masterpiece, but also Finnegans Wake, notoriously regarded as the most difficult work of literature ever written. By the end of the year I will know for sure whether Joyce really is the genius everyone says he is or whether I can abandon trying to understand him once and for all.

4. Organize music library

Because I am hopelessly old-fashioned in this department, I still maintain an iTunes library of purchased, downloaded music despite also having an Apple Music subscription so I can stream like the rest of the world does. There are currently 10,019 songs in that library, taking up 63.29 GB of memory on my computer, and some of the songs haven't been listened to in literally 20 years.

So, a few minutes a day, I want to do two things: 1) cull through the music I don't care about owning—mostly free demos and giveaway albums, and 2) burn the albums I do care about to CDs so I have a hard copy somewhere when my computer inevitably crashes. I know, I know, the cloud, blah blah blah. You heard the part about me being hopelessly old-fashioned, right?

The fun part of this project: rediscovering music I haven't thought about in ages. The maddening part: using iTunes. Apple really has abandoned it, and it shows. But I press on, raging against the dying of the light.

5. Listen to Bob Dylan's complete discography

Speaking of music, have you heard of this Bob Dylan fella that Timothée Chalamet is playing in A Complete Unknown? I hear good things, but I confess that my exposure is almost exclusively limited to the hits (which did not stop me from opening my wallet back in the days when all my spending money went toward buying music—I own 16 Dylan albums.)

So in 2025, with Bob Dylan: All the Songs as my guidebook, I'm going to work my way through Mr. Zimmerman's discography, all 40 studio albums. For the sticklers out there, that's the finish line: studio albums. If I get to The Bootleg Series, the 21 live albums, and his work with the Band and the Traveling Wilburys, then cool. But I've got to draw the line somewhere.

So if my voice suddenly starts sounding really nasally this year, you'll know why.

6. Write a Lenten devotional book

In 2022, I wrote and self-published a devotional book for Advent. It was well-received by my congregation and friends, and I still get a thank you or two every December from folks reading (or rereading) it as part of their daily time with the Lord. It was a lot of work, but it was a fun process, and I'm proud of the end result.

So this spring I want to do something similar for Lent, giving folks something to guide their devotional time in the season leading up to Easter. You'll know by March 5 (Ash Wednesday) whether I've pulled this one off!

7. Lead a strategic planning process for SGBC

Like many churches, mine has declined over the last 5 years by virtually every statistical measure. That doesn't mean the sky is falling, but it does mean we can't just keep doing what we're doing and expect things to get better. Not only is vision needed, but so is strategy.

So in the last quarter of 2024, our deacon chair and I assembled a committee of church members to serve as a strategic planning team, with a mission of crafting a written report of proposals the church needs to take to better live out our vision. That group has already had its first meeting, and will continue to meet roughly once per month until the fall.

So this resolution, the most important on this list, is to lead that committee to write a report that is comprehensive but succinct, imaginative but realistic, and persuasive enough to be adopted by the congregation. It's a big job, but a needed one, and I'm excited by the possibilities.

8. Get healthy

You know the drill: Run every day. Cut my sugar intake. Drink more water. And, most importantly, watch what I'm eating.

Some variation of "get healthy" is the most popular New Year's resolution every year. At age 35, it's time for me to get on board. I don't anticipate this one being easy, but I'm weirdly motivated about it in a way I never have been before. We'll see.

9. Finish my sermons on Friday

Every Saturday night after the kids go to bed, I go to the church to review my sermon for Sunday morning. The idea is for that to be a time for practicing the sermon out loud and cutting any fat before I preach it to the congregation the next morning.

Unfortunately, there have been way too many Saturdays over the last few years where I'm still writing new material at 11:00 pm, less than 12 hours before I'm supposed to stand and deliver. Not ideal.

So the resolution for 2025 is to routinely have my rough draft finished by the time I head home on Friday afternoon. I'll allow myself grace on super busy weeks, but I need to be doing a lot more editing and practicing than writing on Saturdays.

10. Walk to work

I live two blocks from the church. Why am I wasting gas every day when I could be getting some fresh air instead? Time to stretch my legs and pound the pavement instead of lazily "commuting" 45 seconds down the road.

11. Spend less money

I don't need more books. I don't need more baseball caps. And if I'm going to honor resolution #8, I don't need more fast food either.

So, starting with a family-wide No-Spend January, I'm trying to cut back on the retail therapy. I'm far from a spendthrift, but I can be more frugal than I have been to this point. And with three kids to put through college in a few years, every penny counts.

12. Track my time

At various points in adulthood, starting in college, I have kept a detailed, handwritten log of how I spend my time in half-hour increments. At best, it's a great tool for memory, record keeping, and accountability, and it discourages me from wasting time—after all, it's pretty sobering to write "doomscrolled" down for a 2-hour block of time. At worst, it feels anal-retentive and crazy.

Well, I haven't been doing it for more than a year, and I think I could use a little crazy to break some bad habits (see resolution #9). So in 2025, at least when I'm working, I'm going to get back to tracking my time.

2024 New Year's Resolutions Scorecard

 

It's that time again...time to look forward, set goals, and make plans. Every year I make a lengthy list of New Year's resolutions, with varying degrees of ambition. That list comes tomorrow.

But first, we need to check in on my 2024 resolutions and see how I measured up! So without further ado, here's my report card:

1. Read more classic literature.

Off to a good start! I read 9 "classics" in 2024 (my informal definition for that term was "a highly regarded/critically acclaimed book that is challenging enough that I wouldn't read it just for fun"), for an average of one every 40 days. Not bad for somebody who hasn't had a teacher giving him required reading in a decade! Here's the list, courtesy of my monthly reading logs:

* A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
* The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
* Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
* Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
* Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
* The Federalist Papers by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison
* The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
* The Complete Short Stories by Ernest Hemingway
* Dubliners by James Joyce

Score: 1 out of 8

2. Catch up on the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

The stated goal here was to watch every MCU film and TV show released after Avengers: Endgame, i.e. the moment most of the world (including me) stopped paying attention. And I did it, I watched it all. Even Eternals. Even all three seasons of What If...? Even <sigh> Echo.

The highlights? Beyond the obvious choices of Spider-Man: No Way Home, Guardians of the Galaxy 3, and WandaVision, I thought both Ms. Marvel and Agatha All Along were severely underrated in the culture. And I didn't think Ant-Man: Quantumania or Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness were *good*, but I didn't dislike them was much as everybody else seemed to.

Nevertheless, I can now confidently say that the mainstream opinion is pretty much dead-on: Marvel has definitely lost some life on its fastball post-Endgame. I'm counting on Fantastic Four: First Steps, a movie I've been wanting for more than a decade, to turn things around. And in the meantime, I'm caught up! 

Score: 2 out of 8

3. Stop treating my phone like a toy.

One of the books of the year was The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, which argues in part that the smart phone has rewired an entire generation, making them more anxious, secluded, and lonely. I haven't read the book, but I've heard Haidt in a number of interviews, and I think he's really on to something. We've got to find ways to lessen the impact of these technological opiods in our pockets.

That bein said, maybe I need to read the book instead of just listening to the interviews. Because I sure didn't break any bad phone habits in 2024.

Score: 2 out of 8

4. Prioritize contacts with church members.

Every year, there's a resolution I'm really embarrassed to fail at achieving. Well, here it is.

Left to my own devices, I'm terrible at reaching out to people, be they friends, family, or church members. Some of it's me not wanting to bother them, some of it's me overthinking things (what if they're too busy to talk? should I wait til after they get off work?), some of it's just downright laziness. Whatever the case, it's a terrible trait for a pastor. So in 2024 I resolved to make contacting church members throughout the week a priority, perhaps to develop some kind of a personal system to ensure I didn't fall down on the job.

And then I fell down on the job. Yep, this one stings.

Score: 2 out of 8

5. Set a new personal record for pages read.

Since creating my Goodreads account in 2011, my record for pages read was 18,415 in 2020 (that was 44 books). In 2024, I wanted to beat that. Did I?

Final total: 18,576 (60 books). Victory!!!!

Favorite read in 2024? Definitely The Power Broker by Robert Caro, all 1,246 pages of it. Honorable mention to Diary of a Pastor's Soul by Craig Barnes, the best account of pastoral ministry I've ever read. Least favorite? Probably Tom Clancy's The Hunt for Red October, a thriller which never came close to thrilling me.

Don't look for me to match this goal in 2025...it took a LOT of discipline throughout the year to read this much, and I'll likely scale back in the coming year to allow time for some other goals.

Score: 3 out of 8

6. Write it down.

Part of my job is to attend committee meetings. A lot of committee meetings.

At some of those meetings, studious notes are taken, minutes are read, motions are documented, etc. It's all very organized and, if sometimes stilted, ensures orderly process and documentation for future reference. Unfortunately, at other, more free-wheeling meetings, decisions are made informally and never properly documented. Sometimes that's fine, but other times it leads to confusion down the road, when everybody's trying to remember when, how, and why a decision was made and nobody can track down a paper trail.

So I resolved in 2024 to be a studious note taker and to make sure that we weren't relying so heavily on our own memories. I got off to a good, if laborious, start when I pushed our Personnel Committee to revamp our policies and procedures document from a 2-page typewritten sheet written in the 1980s to a more expansive, modern document. That took 4 months of wrangling.

What I didn't do, unfortunately, was keep the kind of copious notes in other meetings that I should have. There's still room for improvement there. So I'm giving myself half credit on this one—I refuse to declare outright failure after all the work getting that personnel document written and codified, but I can't give myself full points either.

Score: 3.5 out of 8

7. Prioritize study.

I wanted to get back to the good old days of devoting 10-15 hours per week to study for sermon and Bible study prep, when every sermon had 2-3 pages of research notes drawn from my study of the text and accompanying commentaries, when I refused to go to bed on Saturday until I had a solid outline.

Did I get all the way back to that point? No. Bad habits die hard, and there were still an unfortunate number of weeks where sermon prep began on Friday instead of Monday. But I did a lot better than I did in 2022 and 2023. So I'm giving myself half credit, and you can expect to see another version of this resolution pop up in 2025.

Score: 4 out of 8

8. Get out of the office.

The church office should be home base, the launching pad from which I go to make visits, engage community partners, disciple church members, etc. Unfortunately, I have a bad habit—enabled by a few church members who aren't shy about expressing displeasure when I'm not available for an unscheduled drop-in—of making the office a nest instead.

This resolution required two things I'm not great at: 1) some advance planning about what the day will look like, and 2) being willing to risk disappointing/frustrating people (those folks inclined to drop in without calling first). With more commitment, I could have made it happen, and it probably would have been good for me. Alas, this one goes down as a woulda-coulda-shoulda.

Score: 4 out of 8

------------------------------------------

Final Score: 4 out of 8, or 50%. Let's see how that stacks up against previous years:

2023- 1.5 out of 10, or 15%

2022- 1 out of 10, or 10%

2021- 4 out of 9, or 44%

2020- 5.5 out of 13, or 42%.

2019- 3 out of 13, or 23%.

2018- 8.5 out of 13, or 65%.

My best score since the halcyon days of 2018! And, maybe more importantly, a huge improvement over the last 2 years, when I was starting to consider scrapping this enterprise altogether. Things are looking up!

Tune in tomorrow for 12 new resolutions for 2025!

December Reading Log

We made it, everybody! 2024 is drawing to a close, and so is the year of reading. Here’s how I wrapped things up in December!

JESUS FEMINIST by Sarah Bessey

The word "feminist" carries so much baggage that your blood pressure may have gone up just from reading the title of this book. Thanks in part to the excesses of second-wave feminism, in part to its post-Roe pairing with abortion rights, and in part to plain ol' bad P.R., there are those who spit the word "feminism" more than they say it. Nevertheless, a basic definition of feminism, according to Sarah Bessey, is simply "the radical notion that women are people too." From that foundation comes Jesus Feminist, her accounting of what the Bible says about women and how it should motivate Christians to think and feel and act.

As the title indicates, this book is about both Christianity and sociology, orthodoxy and orthopraxy. Bessey spends parts of the book doing standard expository work on familiar "women in ministry" texts, but also has whole chapters devoted simply to the stories of women working for the Lord in ways big and small. Her mission is bigger than the title indicates, as is her scope.

This is not really a book about the role of women in the church—after all, the title is a dead giveaway of where she falls on the complementarian-egalitarian spectrum. Rather, it's a book about the kingdom of God that Jesus preached and proclaimed, and an invitation to women to join and take part in the redemptive work of Jesus. Her concern is not flipping tables, even as she acknowledges that sometimes she wants to, but in repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation, and service.

With a writing style that recalls Rachel Held Evans—who wrote the foreward to this book—Bessey has given the church much to think about, with a message that is firm in conviction but gentle in delivery. Even if you don't like the title, I think you could learn something from Jesus Feminist.

YOUR JESUS IS TOO AMERICAN by Steve Bezner

Speaking of books whose titles might irritate you...😅

Thing is, much like Jesus Feminist, Your Jesus Is Too American is about more than its title indicates. You might assume this is a book about how Christians ought to engage in politics—but, while that inevitably comes up, this is actually a book about the kingdom of God.

Steve Bezner, a Houston-area pastor, wrote this book to challenge believers to cast aside American preconceptions about Christianity and instead embrace the vision for life that Jesus taught and embodied. When you do that—when Jesus is not only the sacrificial lamb who died on the cross, but also your teacher—it affects everything from how you treat your enemies to what you do with your money to how you engage in the public square.

Borrowing heavily from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Bezner makes a compelling case for kingdom living, grounded in biblical theology and pastoral practice. For anyone who feels like the church is spinning its wheels in tumultuous times, this book will get you fired up and ready to work.

WHY WE LOVE FOOTBALL by Joe Posnanski

I don't love football, not the way I love baseball. Nevertheless, I am an American man—not only that, a Texan man. Football is right up there with country music and barbecue around here—whether it's your thing or not, it's part of the ecosystem.

So when Joe Posnanski, my favorite sportswriter, followed up his bestselling Why We Love Baseball with a companion volume, Why We Love Football, I knew two things: 1) it wouldn't appeal to me as much as its predecessor did, and 2) I would still find a lot to like about it. And I was right—for football fans of any stripe, Why We Love Football is a joyful romp through the game's greatest moments.

Over its 100 chapters, all bite-sized snacks of 5 pages or so, Posnanski narrates some of the sport's greatest highlights, players, coaches, and traditions with humor, pathos, and passion. From Knute Rockne to Bill Belichick, from Johnny Unitas to Partick Mahomes, from the Hail Mary to Philly Special, he runs the gamut. Almost every chapter, I found myself pulling up highlights on YouTube, whether to watch a play for the first time or to refresh my memory of one I'd seen before.

What runs throughout these individual moments is a love for a game that, as George Carlin so memorably illustrated in his classic bit, is just as American as baseball despite being its total opposite in many many ways. For fans of the gridiron, you'll cherish Why We Love Football.

HOW TO READ A BOOK by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren

After all these years—I've been writing these logs for 7 years now—I figured I should probably learn how to read a book, right?

But seriously, How to Read a Book is the acclaimed text on reading comprehension, a book that purports to teach readers how to get the most out of what they're reading. From elementary-level reading—literally, your ABCs—all the way to the philosophical texts of Aristotle and Aquinas, this book is a guide to reading well.

For someone who loves reading as much as I do, there was much to appreciate about this book, which takes its task seriously and leaves no stone unturned. That being said, this was definitely a textbook—while well-written, it was pretty dry. One of its lessons was how to effectively skim certain kinds of works, and I put that knowledge to use from time to time.

How to Read a Book is considered a classic in its field, and indeed, I can't think of how it could have done better at achieving its goals. But was it thrilling bedtime reading? Not exactly.

THE BFG by Roald Dahl

On evenings where the kids went to bed at a reasonable hour—which was far from every night—this beloved story was December's bedtime reading, and it didn't take long for it to become a favorite, maybe even surpassing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or James and the Giant Peach. The BFG is the story of an orphan girl named Sophie who is kidnapped one night by what turns out to be the one-and-only Big Friendly Giant. While the BFG's size mimics fellow giants like Fleshlumpeater and Bloodbottler, his temperament and appetite do not—instead of eating "human beans" like they do, he is a kindly giant who keeps to himself and sticks to snozzcumbers. Once he and Sophie become friends, she convinces him that he must do what he can to stop his fellow giants from gobbling people up every night, and they enlist none other than the Queen of England to help them.

This book is one of the darker ones we've read so far, owing mostly to the scary giants (and the deep, mean voice Daddy used when reading their speaking parts). But the frightening parts are more than balanced by the humor, which largely comes from the BFG's Hulk-like syntax and penchant for malapropisms—for example, helicopters are "bellypoppers." All in all, this was a really fun one to read aloud, and had a story that was simple but worthy of the 200 pages it took to tell. A worthy bedtime book for the last month of 2024!

BATMAN VOL. 1-10, BATMAN: NIGHT OF THE OWLS, JOKER: DEATH IN THE FAMILY by Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo

When DC Comics rebooted its universe (again) in 2011 with its "New 52" line of 52 monthly titles, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo's Batman book was the runaway hit. Snyder's grandiose vision of Batman and Capullo's career-defining art were a revelation for a book that had been consistent but somewhat plodding, and they injected newfound life into it from the get-go. Their first arc introduced the Court of Owls, Illuminati-like puppet masters who had operated behind the scenes in Gotham City for generations and who now, at long last, targeted Bruce Wayne. Their second arc was a Joker story that crossed over into every Bat-title and ended with Batman estranged from everyone in his family but Alfred. The third arc, "Zero Year," stretched out over more than a year and was Snyder's version of the Frank Miller classic "Year One," an origin story about Batman's initial adventures upon donning the cape and cowl.

The first half of the run, in other words, was golden. But I'd never revisited the second half (or, in fact, all of "Zero Year") since buying it in single issues. So this month I returned to the Snyder-Capullo run to read it in its entirety, from its idea-packed inception to its limp to the finish line.

The Court of Owls story (including a few crossover issues in a companion volume I purchased) was as good as I remembered. "The Death of the Family" had an amazing run-up but a somewhat anticlimactic ending, just as I recalled. "Zero Year" was way too long—again, just as I remembered—but held together and offered a different feel from the always-prepared "Bat God" most modern Batman stories depict. Unfortunately, by "Endgame," their second Joker story, I had started to figure out why Snyder got tiresome to me after a a while. For him, every tale needs to be cataclysmic, needs to shake the Dark Knight to his core, needs to be the definitive Batman story. And when you're writing a graphic novel, that works—but when you're doing a monthly book, it starts to wear thin as you try to top yourself month after month.

So by the end, when Commissioner Gordon temporarily donned the cape and cowl with the real Batman presumed dead, the grandiosity that was once captivating had become cringey. The Snyder-Capullo run (and really my criticism is reserved for Snyder; Capullo is basically flawless throughout) went a couple years too long. Nevertheless, it's a fun ride, and especially the early issues are a must-read for any Batman fan. It’s not perfect, but it’s good!

I Like the Christmas Version Best (Friday Devotional)

 

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

- Luke 2:52

In a memorable scene from the 2006 film Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby, the movie’s protagonist opens a family dinner by saying grace. “Dear Lord Baby Jesus,” he begins. His prayer quickly goes off the rails—this is a Will Ferrell comedy, after all—and he has to restart several times, each time with a variation of that same opening address. After one of these resumptions, his wife interrupts to remind him, “You know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him ‘baby.’

“Look,” he responds. “I like the Christmas version best, and I’m saying grace!”

Silly at is, there’s something to that sentiment that we all understand. There’s a sweetness and a sentimentality to the nativity that we cherish, an innocence that is universally appealing. What’s more, if we stop Jesus’ story in Bethlehem, it’s all hope and no challenge—salvation without repentance, a manger but no cross.

But as much as we all love the story of Christmas, you need the rest of the story too. You need to hear his message that the kingdom of God is at hand. You need to see how, by his power, the sick are healed and the hungry fed. You need to follow him to Calvary, to believe in his sacrificial death upon the cross. You need to rejoice in his glorious resurrection, and you need to await his return.

You need Christmas, but you also need Good Friday and Easter Sunday, because you need all of Jesus, not just the baby in the manger. So as the decorations come down and the carols start to fade, don’t despair that Christmas is over—it’s simply time to tell the next part of the greatest story ever told.

Christmas Under Construction (Friday Devotional)

 

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart

- Hebrews 4:12

For the past week, my house has been a construction zone while our master bathroom is being remodeled. Boxes of tile sit in our front entryway. All the contents of our closet are strewn about the kids’ playroom. And, despite the best efforts of the crew to be as clean as possible, everything is covered in dust.

The thing is, this is a relatively modest remodel. New tile on the floors and in the shower, a new shower head, a built-in shelf, and that’s really about it. No walls are being knocked down, no pipes are being rerouted, and nothing heavy duty like a new bathtub is being installed. The ‘bones’ of the house aren’t changing—yet when it’s done, it’s going to look brand new.

In that way, it reminds me of how we annually commemorate this season—we try to make it new. Preachers are tasked every year with finding a fresh way to convey the Advent themes of hope, peace, love, and joy. Families search for some new family activity to try. Shoppers scour the shelves for decorations to make the lawn or the mantle or the Christmas tree just a little different this year. Our celebration of Christ’s birth is always under construction, always open to something new.

But even as we seek something novel, the bones of Christmas remain the same: the virgin birth, the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night, the angelic chorus, the Christ child sleeping in a manger. Good news of great joy for all people. Hope, peace, joy, and love. The story never changes.

So this year, I offer you dual words of encouragement. On the one hand, look for something new in the Christmas story, something you’ve never noticed or thought about before. Allow room for a fresh perspective or a unique insight into a story you know backwards and forwards. Open your heart to whatever God may want you to hear this Christmas and let him construct something beautiful.

But on the other hand, cherish the familiarity of the story, the comfort that comes from annual observance. Rejoice in the steadfastness of the story—that, just like last year and the year before that and the year before that, Luke 2 remains the same. Christmas may look different than it did 50 years ago, but Christ does not.

God’s Word never changes, but it always has something new to teach you. So this Christmas, give thanks for the old, old story and listen for the brand new message God will deliver through it.

Eat the Cake (Friday Devotional)

 

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

- John 16:22

A few days ago, my daughter was hungry for a piece of leftover birthday cake. Knowing exactly where to find it, she marched to the kitchen, reached up to the counter, and grabbed the glass cake stand. The trouble is, a glass cake stand is pretty heavy for a 5-year-old, especially when it’s full of cake and she’s pulling it down from a height above her head.

You can imagine what happened next. By the time Lindsey and I heard the shattering sound from our bedroom, the kitchen floor was covered in glass shards and icing, and Katherine was staring at it all with wide, teary eyes. It took every bit of 20 minutes to sweep, vacuum, and mop up the mess. And yet, even when it was all said and done, we managed to salvage some of the cake—and we all sat down and shared some together.

Sometimes in life, things break. In fact, sometimes they shatter into a million pieces. And you’re left surveying the damage, wondering how things got so out of hand. Whether it’s a relationship you valued, an institution you believed in, or an opportunity you expected to bear fruit, sometimes faith in what was is destroyed by the cruelty of circumstance.

When that happens, there are two things believers are called to do. The first is simply to pick up the pieces. Ours is a Savior who heals the sick, saves the lost, and raises the dead, and as his disciples we are called to partner with him in that work of redemption. When the world puts its brokenness on full display, it is our opportunity to do the same with our faith. When you practice restoration, it is an act of hope.

And then there is the second thing, which is sometimes even harder than the first: find ways to rejoice amidst the brokenness. Out of pain, find promise. Out of sorrow, seek celebration. Out of despair, make room for joy. Sweep up the glass, yes—but eat some cake too.

There’s plenty of sadness in our world, but in this Advent season we remember that Jesus has overcome the world. So when the world tries to steal your joy, don’t forget what God has given.