By Cindy Twedt
“For the bread of God is He who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”
Our dreams are said to reflect our waking lives, so it is no surprise that my dream reflected my life while working at American Airlines reservations office. In my dream, my colleagues and I were meeting in a gray-cubicle, corporate space. I offered to make some extra copies.
The copy room was not in its normal place, so I opened a new door and found myself in an unlikely room. Golden sunlight glowed through the windows, and there were high ceilings, warm wooden floors, and the amazing smell of freshly baked bread.
The baker had his back to me as he took the bread out of the oven. He said, “Hello, Cindy, I hoped you would stop by. Would you like to taste this bread?” He turned to the counter and sliced a piece of bread from another fresh loaf, and offered it to me. He then asked me a question about my life that woke me from the dream.
What a dream. I was greeted by name, I was made welcome, I was offered bread, and I came away richer for the spiritual nudge to pause and reflect.
The bread of God, Jesus Christ, is always there for us, always welcomes us, and always enriches our spirit, and promises eternal life.
By Glo Parchman
This passage of scripture was unknown to me. I was eleven years old and living in Nevada during World War II. I was a new Christian. I did know the prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep…” and had memorized the 23rd Psalm in V. B. S.
Mother and Daddy were having marital problems. Mother was in the early stage of pregnancy with her fourth child. I am the oldest. She decided to move us back to East Texas where my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins lived. We had a long bed, four-wheel trailer that we had used to move to Nevada. Because of the war everything was rationed. We needed ration stamps to buy some grocery items and especially to buy gas, tires, etc.
We left Nevada in the fall. Mother had nausea the entire trip. Travelers were encouraged to give rides to service men who were hitchhiking. At one point we picked up a sailor. He helped Mother with the driving until we needed to take a different route.
Unfortunately, our route took us through the mountains south of Flagstaff, Arizona. We were enveloped in a snowstorm. A forest ranger pulled us over and told Mother that he had been trailing us. He said that the trailer was going to pull us off the road and down the mountain. He put his tire chains on our car and led us to a mountain village where we rented a vacated ranch house. We stayed there until the storm ended.
By the time we got to Fort Worth, we had exhausted our ration stamps for gas. Mother had to appeal for extra stamps at the courthouse. When we pulled off the highway and onto the road leading to my grandmother’s house, the trailer hitch broke. The trailer rolled to the side of the road with contents unharmed!
I now know, when you drive from Nevada to Texas during war years with rationing and an impaired driver, that the words: “Do not be afraid, for I am with you” are literally true.
By Kirsten Hancock
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
There is much to be afraid of in our troubled world. Reckless drivers. Drug and alcohol addiction. People who do not have our best interest at heart. Gun violence at concerts, churches and other places we assume we ought to be safe.
Will my body outlast my mind? Will I outlive my savings? Will I outlive my beloved spouse? Are my children safe playing outside? Will I have a job tomorrow? How long will I be unemployed? How am I going to make ends meet this month? How long will this physical pain last? How much longer do I have to live? There is much to trouble our hearts on this earth.
When I was a child growing up in the 80s and 90s, I played outside a lot with my younger brother. I also watched the evening news with my parents. I’m trying to remember when the news became something from which we protect our children.
I recently spoke to some parents in our Woodland Church family who said they don’t watch the news in their homes because the local news is too violent and the topics in our U.S. News are too uncertain. “It’s too stressful,” they said, “to race to the mute button or change the channel on the television to censor what goes into our children’s minds and hearts.”
The one thing we never have to be afraid of in this world is the absence of God’s Love. There was room in Jesus’ heart for us when He died on the Cross. There will always be room in God’s Kingdom for us to find purpose and rest. There was and is Room in the Inn for each of us to worship the Christ child. Don’t be afraid or let your heart be troubled. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you,” says the Lord. Amen.
By Conrad Navarro
As I sit writing this devotional I’m still feeling sick, still shedding tears, and still praying for the survivors and the family members of our brothers and sisters of this week’s massacre in Sutherland Springs. King Ahaz, facing an attack from Israel and Syria, asked Assyria for help. Assyria saved Judah from destruction but made Judah a vassal state. As good a king as Ahaz was, he could not bring about the kingdom described in these passages. After all, he was only human. The kingdom on earth that the prophet Isaiah described here, the reversal of the Original Curse due to Original Sin, will only be accomplished by the King of all kings, the long-awaited Messiah, Jesus.
Notice that this picture-perfect restoration of God’s creation is here on earth. It’s not in the by-and-by. It’s in the here-and-, and still waiting for the, now. God will defeat hatred, hunger, fear, illness, violence…evil! We will live in true peace with one another and in harmony with our environment. Some still wait for the Messiah, but we know that He has already come. He has come in our lives and in our world. There is always “room at the inn” for God in us and in His world.
Yet, we yearn and groan as creation does for our final redemption. At times like this, I can’t help but ask, “How long, Lord?! How long before we are rescued from ourselves?” And then, I force and remind myself once again, that in spite of the evil in this world, God is still in control of time. Then again, I remind myself that we are in a perpetual Season of Advent, still waiting for the final triumph of good over evil. There is “room at the inn!” Maranatha, come Lord Jesus!
By Barbara Higdon
There is a pervasive theology called the “prosperity gospel” or the “name it–claim it” gospel which says that wealth and physical well-being are what God wants for us. All we need is faith to believe it, positive speech to claim it, and we’re going to get it. It sort of makes God a vending machine: we insert faith and he’ll deliver security and prosperity.
Paul had a different take on this in today’s Scripture reading. He acknowledges that we may grow anxious, then he promises us the peace of God—not the removal of difficulties.
My online dictionary defines peace as “freedom from disturbance; quiet and tranquility.”
Is that possible when the world is wracked by mass shootings, terrorists driving into crowds, nuclear threats, and violent storms?
Is that possible when threatening illnesses strike our loved ones or us?
Is that possible when relationships dissolve, children do drugs, or spouses drink too much?
Paul was in prison when he wrote the letter containing today’s verse. After his confrontation with Jesus and conversion, Paul faced a lot of difficulties. He left a life of power to become a traveling missionary, persecuted as he had once persecuted. He knew the peace of God, and he knew it wasn’t going to change those hard circumstances. In fact, he found a way to rejoice in every circumstance. He wanted others to know that the peace of God would guard our minds and our hearts.
How? “…by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, we must present our requests to God.”
Requests for more money and security for ourselves?
Requests that we’ll never grow sick or die?
I don’t think so. Those fears and failed expectations are often what produce our anxiety.
If there’s room in my inn for Christ, He is going to help remove anxiety and replace it with peace. The Lord is near. Rejoice.
By Dan Jean
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.
There would be no room for the family tonight even if Mary seemed ready to give birth. The innkeeper who turned Joseph and Mary away was just doing his job. There were no empty rooms. There was nothing left of the evening meal and everything was put away. It was late. He was tired. Please, just go somewhere else. He didn’t realize that this mother was chosen, this birth special, and that upon the shoulders of this child-to-be would rest the future of the world. The innkeeper couldn’t know that this babe would be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace.”
Today there are mothers carrying babies who have no place to stay. These babies have no permanent home, and the future they face is clouded with doubt. No one seems to care what potential they have. No one sees their gifts. No one gives them a safe place to be born and grow. Please, just go somewhere else.
Governments tussle over borders and budgets. Walls promise to keep strangers out and us safe. Fear overshadows compassion and care, even for those who cannot care for themselves. Principles, policies, and positions speak for us. Please, just go somewhere else.
The child of Christmas, born in a manger, ushered in the kingdom of God showing the way toward justice and righteousness for all humanity. The baby Jesus would promise hope for all babies born, calling them all to life abundant and eternal. In this season we are challenged to stand in the innkeepers shoes. Will we make room for those who need a place? Do we turn them away? Isaiah answers our doubts. “The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.”
By Lance Mayes
Psalm 62:1-2, 5-7
I really love our mission statement: “We are a people of hope seeking to proclaim the love of Christ.” Hope is one of my favorite words. I’ve known too many people who had no hope. They felt they had nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. They thought that no one cared. They felt like no one would miss them if they were gone. What a sad place to be.
We see in our verses for today that in God we find hope.
I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will never be shaken.
Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken.
My victory and honor come from God alone.
He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me.
I’ve been there — felt like there was no hope. No one understood. That part was likely correct; no one truly understood what I was experiencing. But there was hope. People did care. God always cares.
I tend to deal with feelings of hopelessness in two extremes. One, I busy myself and try to forget those feelings. I become a human doing instead of a human being. Two, I withdraw. I get quiet. I don’t share what is going on. These options are not really “waiting quietly before God.”
A third way is the best way. Remember that God alone provides hope. God may give hope through a still, quiet voice, through nature, through people, or through other means. We can “wait quietly before God” and let God remind us that we matter, that we are loved.
Then, we need to pass on that hope to others. For “we are a people of hope seeking to proclaim the love of Christ.” How can you share hope and the love of Christ? A smile? A listening ear? An encouraging note? A kind word? A thoughtful gift?
May God bless us and make us a blessing to many.
By Lee Weems
The typical scenario at the Malls for many families is to stand in the long line with children and/or grandchildren. There each person waits, seemingly forever, for a child to sit on the lap of a white-bearded Santa. Then, in a deep voice, Santa asks THE question, “What do you want this Christmas?” After hearing a quick response from the child, someone else takes a memorable photo and the child exits so the next child can have a seat, answer THE question, and then move on.
Paul the Apostle penned the book of Romans and in today’s scripture, he addresses the idea of being a child and living with hope. How do we recognize our relationship with God and patiently await our future? Hoping and waiting for some of us includes high wishes and low patience. To develop a longer patience defines the journey of one’s Christian faith.
In reading this passage, Paul reminds me of the inheritance of being a child of God and trusting in Jesus Christ. To be mindful, that one is a Child of God is humbling and exhilarating for me. And I don’t have to wait in line or talk to a stranger in costume. I just remember that I am always in the presence of a loving and relational God no matter the season or situation. There is no better gift.
By Eastin Kandt
“He will take care of his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs together and carry them in his arms; he will gently lead their mothers.” Isaiah 40:11 GNB
It is hard being a parent. Of course, I don’t have any experience except from watching my parents parent me and my sister. From this, I can safely say that parenting can be VERY difficult. My sister and I are at the age where they are gradually losing control over us as we become more independent adults and prepare to go off on our own. At this time, parents start to think about everything they did wrong while raising the children and what they could have done better.
“I should’ve taught you how to deal with stress better”, “I should’ve taught you how to take care of a household better”, “I should’ve have taught you how to handle people that annoy you better”, and the list goes on and on of all the things that parents can come up with that they did wrong.
And the truth is? They’re right. No parent can raise a child perfectly, because they themselves are not perfect. However, there is hope and that hope is Christ.
He will take care of his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs together and carry them in his arms; he will gently lead their mothers. This is what Isaiah tells us. Parents worry constantly that their children will stumble and fall and they won’t be able to help them back up again. There is no need for worry, because Christ is always there.
Christ is leading the parents just as much as the children. He is protecting them from harm. He is reminding us here that there is no need to fear, for he is there. We can have hope in the future if we let him in to help us.
This Christmas you and your kids are a year older than last Christmas. Things have changed. You have changed. Your children have changed. But Christ hasn’t. No matter who is or isn’t there this Christmas, Christ is there to support you. Have hope in Christ this Advent for He is there.
By Matt Allen
Craig Courtney composed a beautiful choral anthem based on Jeremiah 29:11-13 (“If You Search With All Your Hearts”). It was a “sugar stick” for my high school youth choir and served as the theme for the choir during my senior year. More than that, it eventually became my theme. A few years earlier, another Courtney piece—“Be Not Afraid”—provided a balm as I struggled to deal with the heartache of my father’s death. But it was “With All Your Hearts” that swept in as a paraclete, infusing me with hope and inspiration.
In the years before his death, my father battled two forms of cancer. Though he received the most advanced medical treatment available, I lived every day with the reality that he would die before I graduated high school. This reality invoked a type of paralysis: While others talked of colleges and careers, I focused totally on the present and diligently avoided talk of the future, for that future would be one without my dad.
It was not until my senior year—as I sang “With All Your Hearts” again and again—that the paralysis began to lift, that the clouds covering up my future began to clear. How? By internalizing the truth of Jeremiah 29:11-13: “When you open your heart completely–when you let your heart be broken by the things that break My heart (the outcast, the stranger, the lonely)—then a walking path will open before you, a path with many resting places to hear My encouragement and marvel in My creation” (my translation).
Heavenly father, thank you for sending us a glimpse of your heart in a lonely manger long ago. Help us live every day knowing the future is as boundless as our ability to seek your heart with all our hearts. Amen.