Tuesday, December 1, 2015

what made these wise guys so wise...

“...and they fell to the ground and worshipped Him.  Then opening their treasures, they presented to Him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:11)

At first glance, it may appear that the only gifts the Magi presented to Jesus were gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Costly gifts to be sure, yet, there lay hidden beneath the gilded robes of these men another gift.  A gift that was much more precious, much more valuable than the three we are familiar with.  

Considered by the world as wisemen because of their superior knowledge of astronomy and astrology, this is not what made them truly wise.  It was not even their worship of Jesus that made them wise, nor was it the overflowing of gifts to Him out of their worship that made them wise.  What made these wise guys wise was belief in the Word of God.  It was out of this belief that everything else flowed.

“Where is He Who has been born King of the Jews?  For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” (Matthew 2:2)

Long before their journey to worship had ever begun, as astrologers, they had seen the star in the East, and being familiar with the Scriptures, they believed in and saw fulfillment of prophecy.  It was belief in God’s Word that preceded the purpose of their journey.  Put the two together, belief and the journey based on that belief, and in that they had gained a heart of wisdom.  Knowledge of God’s Word does not become wisdom in our lives until it is acted upon in faith.  A heart of wisdom.  More valuable than gold, frankincense and myrrh.  As they fell to the ground and worshipped Him, it was a heart of wisdom that they were truly presenting to Him.

“So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.”
         Psalm 90:12

To number our days is to have an understanding and respect of the brevity of our time here on planet earth. The psalmist realized that time is a precious gift.  A gift that no one but God Himself can give.  So, he went to the Giver of time to be taught by Him, how to number his days.  How to live wisely in the time apportioned to him.

You and I have also been given, not only the gift of time, but also a gift from the magi.  It’s a principle.  A principle that teaches us that what we believe will ultimately chart the course of our days.  What made these guys so wise is that they had numbered their days, their calendars if you will, with the ink of belief in the Word of God, and then lived out their journey accordingly.   

LORD, in just a few days, I will be turning my calendar page to the very first day of a brand new year.  Each day will be a journey unto itself.  Teach me to number my days, that I may present to You a heart of wisdom.  

Additional Reading:  Proverbs 8:11  Proverbs 16:16   Ecclesiastes 2:26   

                                          Colossians 2:2-3  James 3:17  James 1:5   Proverbs 3:13

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Your Precious but!

Please excuse my phraseology here,
 but honestly, 
Your BUT could be your BIGGEST asset today!

"Be anxious (afraid) for nothing, 
BUT in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving 
let your requests be made known to God." 
Philippians 4:6

Your BUT is your point of turning. 
Will you ever be afraid?
Will you ever experience being anxious? 
Of course! 
But your BUT is your turning point. 
Your BUT is your higher ground. 
Listen to what happens on the other side of your BUT....

"And the peace of God, 

which surpasses all comprehension, 

will guard your hearts and minds 
in Christ Jesus."

By using your BUT to it's full, God given advantage, 
what begins with fear or anxiety 
can end with PEACE!

Let's determine to take God at His Word. 
Let's find the joy and peace and victory 
that is on the other side of our precious BUTS!!! 

Bless you today!

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

feeling a little sketchy...

Journaling and drawing, in one form or other, seems to have been a part of my life since I was a very little girl.  I have no idea what happened to my childhood writings and drawings, 
but I remember a few of them quite well.    

My best friend in grade 3 and I had a way of sharing our ideas through stories and drawings.  On rainy days we would, together, share the same wooden chair and desk in my room where we would have a beautiful blank piece of paper laid out in front of us.  One of my relatives in Scotland had given me one of those ridiculously ginormous pencils for Christmas, and it was with this that we would create the most wonderful tales.  

I would begin by positioning my fingers around the base, as near to the HB lead as I could get without the huge pencil eraser at the top tipping the whole thing over, then I would draw an impressive arc in the middle of the pristine paper, and utter the words, 
"once upon a time, there was a beautiful green hill."  
... and the story had begun!

The pencil would quickly change hands as my friend would then eagerly add her own drawing to the page and utter her own, imaginative words.  The whole entire process usually ended up in a fit of giggles as little stick people emerged with their equally stick-y little dogs, with lollipop heads perched precariously upon almost none existent necks.  

I do remember, however, that although the stories changed with each new sheet of paper, the sun was always predictably huge in the upper right hand corner, while hundreds of blades of grass and flowers were added along the bottom with each exchange of the pencil.  

Last week as I was engaged in a lengthy phone conversation, my hand inadvertently picked up a pencil that was close by and finding a piece of stray paper began to gently move in effortless ease across the blank expanse.  
My hand began a slow dance of straight lines and swirls, of bends and twirls, while I remained oblivious, carrying on in the conversation at hand.

Later on that evening, I returned to my desk to tidy things up for the day.  As I was crumpling up papers to place in the garbage, my eye caught sight of the edge of something different from the others.  
I slid it out from between two sheets and I just stared for a moment.  
It was my mindless doodling.  
Crudely drawn pencil lines, childlike in dimension, simple in its form, 
but there it was... 
my heart was telling me a story.

 It was my heart's happy thought of the promise of Spring, just around the corner.  
The beauty of the garden just waiting for me to come and play, create and enjoy.
The anticipation of the renewal of Life in the midst of winter's chill.
I smiled.
Then I giggled.

A hydrangea blossom.
A watering can.
A hose.
A mouse.

Given enough time, 
I'm sure my hand would have predictably had the sun,
huge in the upper right hand corner,
while hundreds of blades of grass and flowers were added along the bottom of the paper.

"For behold, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone,
The flowers have appeared in the land;
The time has arrived for singing..."
                                                     Song of Solomon 2:11-12


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