Letter to Santa?

The lights blaze outside my windows...of polar bears, deer, presents, lighted trees and Frosty, of course. The house is quiet except for the familiar words coming from It's a Wonderful Life on the television.  All the children and grandchildren are elsewhere with last minute celebrations before the big night, but my thoughts are with them during this wonderful celebration we call Christmas.

Peace reigns in my soul and the moment turns to wonderment of my numerous blessings.  Who can say why one who deserves the least is blessed with more.  

Grandson Caleb writes his letter to Santa asking him to pray every day.  He's seven.  He's blessed. He can teach us all something, can he not?

I read of a child whose cancer led to a liver transplant.  Her name is Gabbi.  Now, with complications following the transplant, our awesome God is being deluged with prayer requests to intervene, to provide the solution needed for this child, to grant this miracle so desperately wanted and needed...all the while acknowledging and accepting the supremacy of God and knowing His plan for all of us is far better than anything we could devise and trusting in His love and comfort.

This night of peace, reminding us of the birth of our Saviour, can be overcome with fear and anxiety when life intrudes, when the brightness of our lights dim with uncertainty and the inability to dictate the terms of our lives.

I cry with the beauty of my peace because I cannot share it with those who grieve or live with distress this night.  I can only offer my prayers to the one who can give the comfort and peace each soul craves.   

The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. ~ Psalm 18:2

Who, Me???

Caught off guard, the chastising was a shock to my system.  The shock lasting through my exit, the ride home brought forth feelings of being vilified, unfairly heard, and then unfortunately, resentment.  Sleepless that night, the myriad of emotions flowing through the following day ran the gamut. 

You see, I wanted the true object of their dissatisfaction to step up and take the blame, to rescue me from this perceived blemish on myself, to return to my deserved elevation! 

Enter the deceiver:  telling me to withdraw...after proclaiming my self-righteous denial to these leaders by a copiously written email perhaps...but to remove myself from duties that I have loved so much.  Spiteful, revengeful thoughts which I knew to be at the very time they appeared but unable to stop the flow.

Retreating to my Kindle and hoping to immerse myself in reading instead, I opened to this page:

"The sobering reality is that proud, unbroken Christians have done far more damage to the church of Jesus Christ than any sinners outside the church could inflict."

Pride?  Again?  Did I let myself fall to pride's prey again?  In my want to protect my own image (hardly a humble position,  right?), did I miss the very heart of the gospel and God's grace?  Was it coincidence that I was already reading a book on Brokenness, Surrender, Holiness?  I think not.  Thanking the Lord for remembering me, for knowing my needs before I did, the tears fell and His Spirit flooded my entire body.  

When you think you have learned it all, you are reminded of how little you know.  When you think you have mastered a fault, new situations may give rise to an old sin.  When you think you are invincible, invaluable and mighty, you are reminded of how much you need and depend on the Savior.  That is brokenness!

"As wax or clay must be soft and pliable in order to be molded by the artist's hands, so the broken, contrite heart is easily molded by the hand of God and does not harden itself against the circumstances God chooses to mold it."

And,

"Broken men and women have nothing to protect and nothing to lose." 

You see, a broken and contrite heart has no room for pride, bitterness, rebellion and  self-righteous indignation!  Proverbs, James and 1 Peter tell us that God resists the proud but pours grace on the humble.  

"Humble yourselves before the Lord, and He will exalt you." (James 4:10)

I thank the Lord for His faithfulness in exposing my weaknesses, for His mercy and forgiveness when I fail, and for His promises to lift me up when I fall.  I thank Him for the leadership in the church, and I pray blessings on each one and his family.  I thank Him for reminding me when I am not being a blessing to my church family and when my self-worth comes before His truths.  I thank Him for His Spirit that has become a mirror for my soul, showing always the right path to take, the right spirit to maintain. 

Are you a proud or broken person?  Sometimes, it's hard to recognize.  I'd love to talk with you about it. Drop me a comment or email me directly at ann.annieevans@gmail.com.  And thanks for dropping by! 

From Dark to Light

Early Morning Riser is a term never applied to myself.  Loving the sound of it and appreciating it in others, the value itself has not held the allure for me to rise up and leave that comfy bed.  Memories of late mornings, especially Saturdays when the kids were elsewhere, are distant now.  Gone is the luxury of lazy stretching, contemplating, and the slow assent into mornings.

Lamenting my loss of leisure and berating Mr. Arthritis, the recent thorn in my flesh, a beautiful and treasured awareness has taken place over the past year.  The darkness that greets me outside this sunroom embraces me like a cocoon.   The house remains quiet with only the sound of Mother's pendulum clock breaking through my consciousness, and with that, too, receding rapidly.

Reaching for my laptop and catching up on the last night's events keep me occupied, along with that first cup of coffee, of course.  

Then it catches my attention...that first awakening of the tiniest bit of light.  Changing imperceptively, I realize God is slowly starting my day.  No birds yet pierce the air with their talk, no movement even in the cattle next door.  A peacefulness invades my world, and I am oh, so content! 

The earlier darkness had clothed me in assurance, but wasn't it because of my stable position indoors?  If the darkness has surrounded me in the middle of a field, wouldn't the effect be certainly one of unprotected, insecure and endangered?  Does the walled and windowed sunroom dispel the illusion of safety?  Because I desire to believe in the safety of my own home, I push away any thought of invasion of privacy or intrusion.

How easily one can believe and trust in one's feelings and justifications...to rely on self-worth, pride and self-indulgence.

Since the beginning, man has desired and pursued a god-like appearance, intelligence and power. Believing himself to be superior in intellect, too many have scoffed at any notion of a supreme being and savior of the world.  Belittling and scorning the "peasant" style faith, theories and hypothesis become their truths, likening themselves to the truly enlightened.

Sad that the efforts of these intelligent individuals were not directed at espousing the Bible truths, that the "light" in enlightened refers to the blazing love, truth, passion, and totally devoted savior of our entire world!  

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”                              John 8:12 (NIV)

The darkness in these early morning hours has become familiar to me now.  I am not afraid.  Not because I have come to trust the dark, but to embrace the light!  Thank you, Lord, for the blessings of each new day, for the increased awareness of your deity, your sovereignty, your sacrifice, your love and graciousness.  Thank you for my sight of your lightness and in my words and actions, may I always reflect your glory!

Mess-upper!

"Failure" must come early in a child's life.  Learning to do so many things necessarily means failure occurs often, but the urge to succeed is great and failures become a part of life.  Normal.  Expected.  Accepted.

Then childhood is left behind and the young adult is expected to blossom and thrive...leaving failures in the past as the urge to excel, impress and surpass takes on a life of its own.  Failing ceases to be a learning experience, but something to hide, deny and cover up.  Shameful.

Disappointing my dad was conflicting as I struggled to maintain my independence...making mistake after mistake after mistake.  Admitting error to a parent at any age, knowing the heartache you brought them, is humilating at best.  But there is no eraser of life, no magic to make mistakes disappear, no time to rectify.

Mess-upper was a nickname I cared not for.  But heard enough, the image sticks, looming above my head at every turn.  As a mother raising her child with no experience, a wife trying to please her husband, as an employee striving for perfection, a friend trying to keep the peace...as a servant trying to please God, the fear of failing can immobilize oneself into believing any effort is thwarted before it's begun!

The fear of failure becomes part of your breath, tainting efforts as it resides in the recesses of your mind, drawing you away from new opportunities before they've begun.  How to justify my failures...how to lose this mess-upper stigma from the fragile skin of my soul? 

"Perhaps the hardest lesson we learn from failure is that we aren't as great as we thought we were." (Warren Wiersbe)   Ahhh, there it is!  Pride, and injured at that, can demolish the strongest of desires, the meekest of intentions, and  the sincere attitude of gratitude disintegrates.  The cloak of perfection slips and reality stands tall.

Peter was a failure.  He failed Christ at least three times.  He suffered the agony of his Lord predicting and witnessing his failure.

 And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, “Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly.  (Luke 22:61-62 ESV)

Can you even imagine the horror and shamefulness that must have enveloped Peter as he watched the Lord being tortured and crucified within those next couple of days, the dispair he must have felt?  Yet Christ appeared to him after his resurrection, giving him the command to "feed his sheep."  He trusted him to spread His gospel and entrusted lives to Peter's undeniable love of Christ to prevail.  It became not about Peter but only about Christ.

Failures may still stalk my path, but somewhere the Lord is working them for good.  It is no longer about me being a mess-upper, it is Christ working in me to deny myself at all.  I am freed from failure.

"Failing is not a disgrace unless you make it the last chapter of your book." 
- Jack Hyles