The picture at the top of the post is of my nearly 10-year-old neutered male kitty we call Sunny. It fits his personality to a tee. He might be blind, but he always seems curious about someone new. And he’s such a shepherd when one of us gets sick!
He asked me to pick him up the other day. He does that by standing on his hind legs and putting his forepaws on my knees. He’s not a real touchy-feely kitty, but occasionally he likes it, and this was 1 of those occasions.
As I was holding him, I got to thinking about how different our worldviews were. He comes up to my ankles, so mostly what he sees, if anything, is down low. He uses whiskers for navigation. I know he can conceptualize things like his food and treats, but how he does that without language is beyond me. But as he lays in my lap purring his rumbling symphony and kneading my knee with his claws, and I massage his back, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt our feelings run very deep for one another.
How can it be, I wonder, that two beings with such widely divergent world views can love one another so much, and yet many humans despite far more similar ways of looking at the world can view things so differently–and worse, with so much vitriole toward those who disagree.
As we embark on this season of Lent, I think again of some of Jesus’s unanswered prayers. If I would ask most Christians about that, they’d immediately think of His prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. But there is another, found in John 17:20-21.
20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”
The sad truth is we as Christians are hardly one. I question whether most people who don’t share our faith can look at us and say something special’s going on. Yet we have so much more in common than we have differences. We love Jesus. We believe in Baptism, though the form differs. We believe in Jesus’s crucifixion, and most of us believe in His resurrection. And we believe one day we’ll go to Heaven–and yes–meet those with whom we disagree.
This Lenten season one of my prayers will be that we as Christians will find some of that unity and love despite such different world views, just like Sunny Kitty and me. I’m asking for God’s help with that. Maybe all of us can do so as well. We sure could use a lot more love around here.
4 There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.
5 There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
6 There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. 7 Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.
Lois Gibson, a notably successful forensics artist from Houston, set aside her 5-year retirement this week to offer help in the Nancy Guthrie abduction case. That’s not striking. What did strike me initially was the incredible compassion she expressed. She said the amount of torture families of kidnap victims endured was “insane”. She also said she was willing to “take the hit” if her guesses about the kidnapper’s appearance were incorrect–she just wanted to help.
Some might say she was just trying to capitalize on the situation and get some publicity. I don’t think so. I think rather that this lady knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that she has been given a gift, and she wants to use it to help those in need. Unlike others in this case, she requested no money, so far as I can tell, for the service she provided
Everyone is given at least 1 gift by their Creator, usually more, to benefit themselves and those around them. That last part is important. Our gifts are how we co-create with God, serving as His hands, feet, and mouthpiece to do His work on this earth. That’s not because God’s is incapable of doing it on His own. Rather, He allows us the privilege of working with Him to accomplish His purposes. The child in the picture is blissfully unaware of this. Unfortunately, so are far too many adults.
It touches me greatly when I see people coming forward to use the gifts God has given them to help others. I think it also makes the Great Father happy too. If everyone did it, this would be a far happier world. Indeed, it would, I believe, be very much like heaven. Ms. Gibson, in my opinion, has learned a valueable life lesson, and that is when you use your gift to help someone else, you receive a blessing. It may not be a material blessing, but it is a blessing nonetheless.
Lord, please help us all to use the gifts you’ve given us today and throughout the week, to make this world a better place. Amen
Welcome to another episode of “Blessing Sunday”. Participating along with me are: Abbey Johnson Taylor and Lynda Lambert who shared the idea with me.
This Sunday I’m writing about something that’s not often talked about among Christians. It’s a concept called “the communion of saints.” Husband Karl and I this past week both observed the anniversaries of the deaths of close family members. My grandma died on Jan 25, and Karl’s brother on Jan 30.
Heb 12:1 says, in part, “we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses”
Those who have died before us are not gone. When we worship God, our prayers join with theirs. Our love and God’s love join with their love. I find solace, when things feel messed up, that loved ones who’ve gone before us are still thinking about us, loving us, and praying for us, uniting in thanksgiving for God’s work on our behalf thus far, and in pleas that His full purposes will come to fruition. I’m also comforted by the knowledge that there will one day be a great reunion with loved ones, as well as with those we haven’t even met but are yet somehow kindred spirits. It’ll be the only chance I ever get to meet Jessica Fletcher–uh, I mean Angela Lansbury, after all. And Moses and Peter and Elijah and Paul and Jesus’s mom and too many others to mention.
So, although I still miss my grandma, and Karl likewise misses his brother, we are consoled because the separation isn’t entirely a separation. Our spirits are united in love, by God, and the absence we feel, when seen in the light of eternity, is a mere instant–not even enough to be consequential. Jesus said in His sermon on the mount that those who mourn will be blessed,because they’ll be comforted, and so we are, by the knowledge that love never fails and never dies.
It’s almost too wonderful to believe that God’s people, whether in the flesh or in the spirit, are united over space and time, but it’s true. I hope readers will find some measure of consolation by pondering this miraculous truth over the next week.
Jesus ascended into Heaven. But His body remains here–in the form of the church. Not necessarily *a* church, but *the* church, the body of believers the world over, and each has a vital part to play.
People were never meant to live alone. God said that in the beginning: “It is not good for the man to be alone” Gen 2:18. With individualism deep-rooted as it is in the American spirit, living in community can be a difficult concept to grasp, especially in large cities where you may not know your neighbor in the next apartment much less in the next block. So sometimes God has to show us the advantages of needing help.
This past Wednesday I got sick with a stomach virus. I had to ask Hubby to do the chores I normally do, i.e., feed the cats and take out the garbage because I was having to stay too close to the bathroom to do it myself. I didn’t exactly like having to ask for help, but I was glad to have someone to rely on when I needed to.
We can always ask God for help, of course. But far more often than not, the Red Sea doesn’t part, and the sun remains in motion. Instead, he puts people in our path who serve as His hands, feet, and mouth for carrying on His work.
Many think that because they’re old, or disabled, or poor, or 101 other excuses, they can’t do anything. Others, like Lynda Lambert, take a different view. She often looks out the window and prays for those she sees walking down the street, or when she hears the sound of emergency vehicles. Does it really do any good? I’ll bet she’ll have a harvest waiting for her in heaven she never expected! We may never see the results of all that we do. But God knows. And may He bless those abundantly who respond willingly and eagerly when help is needed. Needing help, whether or not we ask for it, is a humbling experience. And which of us couldn’t use that occasionally?
May God bless you this week, and give you help whenever the need arises.
This past Thursday was the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., and we celebrate the occasion on Monday the 19th. Throughout the centuries, there have been men and women who have struggled to advance humanity’s greater good. Some of their names are well known. Others are not. But famous or obscure, their work has moved us forward and made the world a better place to live. Their struggles have conferred blessings on us all.
Gen 32:24-29
24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.
25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man.
26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” 27 The man asked him, “What is your name?” “Jacob,” he answered. 28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.” 29 Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.” But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.
I pray that I, and all others who long to do so, will find their assigned place and be able to participate with our Creator to be His hands and feet and mouth here on earth.
First let me be very clear. I hate being blind. I absolutely, positively, unequivocally hate it! This image shows just 1 of the reasons why. For anyone who can’t see it, it shows a person searching on the floor for a lost object that’s just out of reach. I feel as though I spend more time in my life searching for things I can use than I do anything else. Touch screens are out. Things that indicate their status by color only are also out. Just about everything takes longer to do, and even then you’re not sure it’s done right. In case you have any doubts, try closing your eyes and vacuuming the floor. How’d you do? A friend once called and, when I answered, asked me what I was doing. I told him I was cleaning the house. He asked me if it looked like a blindy cleaned it. The only thing I could think to say was that I hoped it looked like *somebody* cleaned it.
Being blind also makes participating in so many activities difficult, or at least not very much fun. Think family game nights, trips to the zoo or aquarium, holiday light shows/fireworks, etc.
So having said all that, why do I say that blindness is a blessing?
Isaiah 42:16 “I will bring the blind by a way that they don’t know. I will lead them in paths that they don’t know. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked places straight. I will do these things, and I will not forsake them.”
Because, for all the frustrations blindness engenders, I think we’re also given a little bit of special attention by the Great Father. I’ve often heard that God protects kids and fools. I add blind folks as well. I also think it gives me a little more tolerance for others’ weaknesses than I might otherwise have. My family members might disagree, you understand, but I do think it does. And I think it makes it more likely that I look to God for help than I would if I could see.
So, very begrudgingly, I count being blind as a blessing. And I pray I can serve God even better without eyesight than I could have done with it. Because, after all, when all is said and done, all of us walk by faith and not by sight. 2 Cor 5:7
Hello, and welcome to another Journey of Blessing Sunday. Also participating with me in this endeavor are Lynda Lambert and Abbie Johnson Taylor
2Cor 5:17 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
The gentle breath of their Creator filled their lungs and spirits. Suddenly Adam and Eve found themselves in a place they’d never been before. They stood there staring at the wonders around them–the grass, the trees, the waterfalls, the animals, the singing birds–and most of all each other. It was all completely new, utterly unfamiliar. They had to devise names for everything, and God graciously agreed to use the names they had supplied. Just imagine how that might feel for a minute. What is all this? Who are all these other beings? What are we supposed to do here? Anyone who’s raised a baby has seen the same awe and wonder as they discover things that, to you, are old and familiar, but for them are something they’re experiencing for the very first time. Their eyes light up, they smile and laugh and coo–it’s delightful to behold, truthfully.
And then suddenly something happens. More and more things become familiar. They escape our notice. They’re not new anymore. Wonder and awe have left the building.
The truth is, if things never become familiar, we could never learn. From an evolutionary standpoint (and yes, as a Christian, I believe in evolution), we’d constantly be wondering if that butterfly might want to eat us–or at least take a bite out of us–rather than figuring out it was harmless and then going about our day.
We’re promised that in Christ, we are new creations, just like what Adam and Eve were seeing for the very first time.
Lamentations 3:22 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
I pray each of us can find the wonder of the blessing of newness. We’re new creations, God’s mercies are new every morning, we have yet another chance to get it right–or not. My prayer is that in 2026, I’ll see the awe and wonder more, rejoice in the newness of His mercies–and hopefully get it right more often than I get it wrong.
1Cor 13-12 “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
Matthew 6:22 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy,[a] your whole body will be full of light.
23 But if your eyes are unhealthy,[b] your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! Alternate translations for healthy and unhealthy are generous & stingy, respectively, designated by the footnotes.
Like my friend Lynda Lambert, I came up with a word to guide my life in 2026. My word is “clarity.” “I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way.” says the song. Without clarity, we can’t see our purpose, much less focus on and accomplish it. Jesus had incredible clarity regarding His mission. Without it, he wouldn’t have gone to the cross. As it was, He was able to power through the agony to reach the glorious resurrection on the other side.
I will look more carefully at my actions. I’ll ask myself, “does what I’m doing now align with my goals and desires? More importantly, does it align with God’s goals and desires for my life?”
Lord help me in all areas of my life to see those things you’d have me hold onto, as well as those things I should jettison. Help me obey when you reveal them to me. Light the path you’ve laid out in front of me, that I may see it clearly, and not go astray from it. Thank you for this upcoming year. May I glorify you in my living. Amen.
Today, on this last Sunday of 2025, I’m reflecting on the concept of time. We live in a strange tension with time, both because we have seemingly a very finite amount of it, and yet, because we are eternal beings, we have an unlimited quantity. The thought of how finite our time is here usually wins.
I so often feel I don’t have enough time, and it seems like it’s true, as in, I’m late publishing this post. Holidays sometimes feel like a series of deadlines to be met, which often leaves us unable to enjoy them as we’d like.
As the year draws toward its close, I especially find myself interspective. God has given me time. He gave me a 2nd chance when, in 2004, I was diagnosed with cancer. It nearly killed me. I pray I’ve used the chance He gave me wisely. Even more, I hope He thinks I have. I also look ahead to 2026 and wonder what the future holds.
I find two verses from scripture comforting.
Psalm 31:15 – “My times are in your hands;
and
Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
So I extend to you, dear reader, my sincerest wishes for a joyous, prosperous, and healthy 2026. May you straddle the tention between our finite lives here and our eternal lifes in the spirit successfully. And may your life glorify your Creator.
Today, this 4th and last Sunday of Advent, I’m thankful for the blessing of love. The below story is inspired by a birthday card my husband sent me once, asking me what the creation was like lol. It’s a reimagining of the fall of the angels that eventually put into motion the downfall of humans as well.
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 He was with God in the beginning.
3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.
4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Lights. They were everywhere. Nothing impeded their brightness. They danced from one end of the heavens to the other. Planets, stars, suns, moons–all gave off or reflected light. Some faded out, others glided in, but always and everywhere there were lights, and there was light, and nothing was known of darkness in the great vaults of heaven. Even a great master angel bore the name of bearer of light, for he was the brightest of them all.
“Why can’t I be equal to God? Why can’t I be as bright?” The thought was fleeting, but in that time it took the thought to form, so did a little darkness. The thought passed quickly. Yet still it began to haunt this angelic light-bearer. And the more it did, the more darkness began to obscure the once ever-shining light.
And so it was, at a fateful time to long ago to count, that the Great God, 3 in 1, Father, Son, & Holy Spirit, discerned the cause of this darkness and decided to call a meeting with this angel.
A sound was heard throughout heaven. It was the voice of God, summoning the Light-Bearer into the great meeting hall. The sound was low and soft, akin to what those on earth many eons later would liken to a distant thunderstorm, nonthreatening, yet somehow ominous, soft, yet filling the entire heavens, gentle, but with the unmistakeable potential for threat lurking within. The light-bearer heard it, and for the first time felt a strange and unfamiliar enmity toward the Great Triune God. The darkness intensified. And the light bearer felt a perverse pleasure that he could dim the light instead of having to share it with all the other lesser lights.
The light bearer sat at his usual place in the great meeting hall, just to the left of the great Father, who sat at the head of the table. It was a table made of strong, solid wood, what those on earth would later come to know as cedar. It was polished absolutely smooth, like the glass sea before the Great Father’s throne. All drank deep of the sweet heavenly nectar from golden chalices set before them. Nonetheless, despite the unspeakable pleasure the drink provided, the Great Father’s face was clouded, and tears glistened in his loving eyes.
“You are unhappy, bearer of light. Tell me.”
“You’re God. You’re the Great Father. You already know!” The angel was shocked at the uncharacteristic sharpness of his tone.
“Tell me nonetheless, my dear friend.”
“I should be your equal.”
“But you’re not, and you can’t be. I did, after all, create you. There are powers as a created being that you simply cannot possess.”
“You could make it happen.”
“And it would be to everyone’s detriment, including your own, if I did. No, dear Light Bearer, please be content with your status. Your light is above that of all other created beings residing in the heavens, and you are dearly loved. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it is not!”
The tears that had glistened in the Great Father’s eyes trickled silently down his craggy face.
“Then, although it breaks my heart to do it, dear Lucifer, , I must ask you to leave. You are causing discension. You’ve promised a kingdom where all will be equal. I’m certain you know that’s not true, but those following you don’t. Such divisiveness cannot exist here. You and all who would follow you must leave immediately.”
“With pleasure! You’re just way too full of yourself anyway!” And with that, the angel light bearer left the heavenly realms enshrouded in thick, coal-black, acrid smoke, taking a third of the heavenly hosts with him.
The angel choirs tried only partially successfully to carry on without their departed friends. A great void of unspeakable sadness almost completely engulfed the heavenly realms. Michael was appointed the new head angel in an attempt to restore some semblance of normal, but everyone in heaven had lost close friends to the rift, and none felt the loss more keenly than the Great Father.
And so, in deep thought, the Great Father spent many hours, studying the lights, both in the sky above as well as their reflection in the glassy sea below. And, as was often the case, Jesus the Son stood beside him, if only to offer a loving presence as comfort.
“You know, Son,” the Father finally said, “We created angels to do our bidding, but they serve us, not love us. We’ve created suns and stars and moons and planets, but none of these things are in our image. Nor can they be our friends. I want to create a being that has the choice of whether or not to love and serve us. I want to create a being that has our breath in their nostrils and our life in their spirit, who will fellowship with us and help us create something built on the love we share. I do not want to create an automaton. These creations must always know they have a choice, and they must always be aware there is an alternative, or there really is no choice at all. That little blue ball called earth looks like just the place to do it. What do you think?
“Of course you know they’ll choose wrongly.”
“I know. And I’m trying to figure out how to rescue them from their error when they do. We cannot have sin and rebellion in these holy walls. We threw angels out for just that reason, but I don’t want the same thing happening to these creatures, if only because they’ll each have a spark of the divine within them.”
“The wages of sin is death. If someone without sin chose to die in their place, would you consider it adequate payment?”
The father looked into his son’s eyes and noted with pleasure the steely determination shining there.
“It would not be easy, my Son. I couldn’t ask you to do such a thing.”
“As I recall, you didn’t.”
“You helped create the universe. You’d have to abandon your power, go there as a baby, dependent on your parents to feed and protect and nurture you. You’ll be liked by most only for what you can do for them, and when you can’t do anything, they’ll throw you out like garbage. You’ll be sick sometimes, you’ll hurt sometimes, you’ll have to feel everything they feel, get tempted in the ways they’re tempted, and still not sin. Then after all that, you’ll have to be put to death–and that death won’t be easy, as you’ll be a substitute for their sin, and you’ll be cursed.”
“He who hangs on a tree is cursed, right?”
The great Father nodded gravely.
“And then I’ll foresake you, so I won’t have to do it to them. Do you really think you can do all that?”
“That last will be the hardest,” Jesus admitted, a lump in his neck rising to prominence for some time before returning to normal. “But yes, I’ll do it.”
“You can back out at any time.”
“And then what will happen to them?”
The father looked off in the direction where Lucifer and his followers had exited.
“Exactly. Put it in place and I’ll do whatever and whenever you ask.”
Then let’s get on with the creation of humankind!” the Great Father said, beaming.
