dishes and fellowship
My beautiful 7 year old daughter Rebekah came into the kitchen while I was doing dishes and asked if she could help.  "Sure", said I.  She grabbed a towel and started drying the dishes and we chatted away about all kinds of things while we worked together.  When we were done, she cheerfully said "Mommy, I like helping you because when I do, we get to talk."  What a delight to me she is.How is that for a simple, but beautiful illustration of the spirit of adoption?...glad to be part of the family, jumping into whatever I'm doing so we can share each others company.  That is the kind of heart I want to have more and more in relationship with God...jumping

Little Black Boxing Gloves
I have little black boxing gloves hanging in my bedroom as a reminder that on this side of glory, there is a fight we're to be engaged in, the fight of faith, the fight to run with endurance the race set before us when so many paths posing as easier, funner, safer, richer, etc. tempt us to turn away from the grace laden "Jerusalem" road that has a cross before a crown.  One glove has the reference 1 Corinthians 9:16-27 written on it...verse 26b says "Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air."My question this morning as I found myself "doing my exercises" at a lazy pace, was:  Am I really fighting or am I just going through motions that make it appear that I am fighti

Sweet 16
Sixteen years ago today... I stood trembling with joy at an alter where Mike took me as his bride. Last night we laid in bed recounting sweet memories we've shared.  As every couple that weds does, we promised before God and witnesses to be loving and faithful to each other in every sort of circum

IOUS
 I grew up with a warped view of God...fear was readily found within me, but joy was missing because I saw God as an angry judge with a list of arbitrary laws that stood ready to turn anyone who crossed Him into toast.  And I knew I crossed Him.  I was inwardly fearful all the time, though outwardly I likely resembled a Pharisee as I sought to please Him on my own work-ish terms.I became a Christian when I was 15 years old and began to taste and see the goodness of the Lord, to know His mercy, to rejoice in His salvation.  The Word of God was tasty bread to me now.  I also started reading who I referred to as Old Dead Gu

In the way of allurement
Years ago I taught a Sunday school class on "being a disciple of Jesus."  This week I found myself looking up the notes because I needed to whack myself upside the head with them.  They served me well...here are a few thoughts to serve you too:To be a disciple in the simplest sense of the word just means to be taught by another, but that doesn't go far enough when talking about being a disciple of Jesus because you can learn from someone you don't admire, you can be a pupil of someone you care little to nothing about as a person, you can be a student of someone without caring a hoot about their personal goals, and you can sit under someone's teaching simply as a means