The Cattle Were Sneezing

By Cynthia Ruchti –

“But, those people…”

The complaint took on a decidedly whiny tone.

“What about them, Sharla?”

“They’re…germy. Dirty. Smelly.”

Karen sighed. “And they’re needy, which is why our small group is reaching out to the homeless. They need to know someone cares so they’ll understand that Jesus cares.”

Sharla checked her BlackBerry. “Oh. I just realized I have an office Christmas party that night.”

“Not a problem. We’re serving holiday lunch at the shelter, not supper. You’ll have plenty of time to get changed for your party.”

“But, I’ll have to…”

“To what, Sharla? Take a shower? Disinfect?”

Sharla pressed her lips together, nostrils flaring as she breathed.

“Jesus was born in a stable.”

“Well, I know that.”

“He probably had cows sneezing on Him. Or worse. Jesus—a fragile newborn. The Son of God. And we’re having an issue with reaching out to humans in His Name?”

Every time we whine about how difficult or unpleasant it is to serve others, what must that communicate to the God who gave His Son, to the Son who left the splendors of heaven to be born in a stable and laid in a manger, to the One who was beaten beyond recognition and died on a crude cross—for us?

PRAYER: Lord, I’m ashamed of the times I’ve complained about some meaningless unpleasantry, about the inconvenience of the homeless man on the street corner and the foul odor of the pile of tennis shoes at the entrance to the youth room at church, of the runny noses of the kids in the nursery. Forgive me, Lord, for forgetting all the ugliness You endured for my sake, including the foul odor of my sin. Help me lose myself in loving like You loved.

VERSE: “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love” (Ephesians 4:2 NIV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer and producer of the radio ministry The Heartbeat of the Home and current president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released from Abingdon Press in Spring 2010 and A Door County Christmas novella collection (Barbour Publishing) released Fall 2010. Cynthia writes stories of hope that glows in the dark. www.cynthiaruchti.com.

She’s So NOT a Material Girl

By Cynthia Ruchti –

One would expect a five-year-old girl growing up in middle America to create a Christmas wish list that would help boost the economies of many local and online businesses, particularly in the toy departments. Or electronics.

But when her mother, my daughter, sat Hannah down the other day to help her spell the words beyond a kindergartner’s knowledge base, the first thing Hannah wanted on her list was toilet paper.

That’s right.

“Why toilet paper, honey?” her mom asked.

Without losing a beat, Hannah replied, “I wouldn’t want us to run out.”

A five-year-old concerned about the family’s toilet paper supply? She didn’t ask for Beat-the-Lottery Barbie, or Spangle-Dangle designer jeans, or the latest attachment for the latest version of the latest techno-game system.

The family chuckled when we heard Hannah’s top item on her wish list. Then we sobered. She’s obviously not a “material” girl. Lord, please keep her that innocent and uncomplicated.

Then the Lord took me past that response to a deeper layer of understanding. It almost seemed silly, at first, that a five-year-old would concern herself with the family toilet paper supply. I imagine her mom and dad assuring her, “Hannah, you won’t have to worry about things like that. We’ll take care of them for you.”

Isn’t that much like what Jesus told all of us? To those who were worried about how they’d feed and clothe themselves and their families, about food and shelter and heat and shoes and coats, Jesus said, “Your Father knows you have need of them.” The basics of provision? The Lord knows we need them. No need to put them on our wish list.

Just our “thank You” list.

PRAYER: Lord, Your provision is so complete. From the gift of life to the gift of abundant life to the gift of eternal life, I am most blessed. Great gift-giving God, thank You for taking good care of me and those I love.

“Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his  righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:32b NIV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer and producer of the radio ministry THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME and current president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released from Abingdon Press in Spring 2010 and A Door County Christmas released Fall 2010. Cynthia writes stories of hope that glows in the dark. www.cynthiaruchti.com.

It’ll Flatten Out Eventually

By Cynthia Ruchti –

So I’m hiking through the woods in Alaska and…

I’ve never written a line like that before. But there I was, following a guide over narrow trails that led up—and I mean UP—the cliffs around a glacial lake near Skagway.

When my husband and I signed on for this combination hike-and-float excursion, no one told us it would test our hearts’ ability to keep from exploding. Or our lungs’ desire to slip through our ribcage and run for cover.

No one told us, “It would probably be best if you were in good shape, underweight, and athletically inclined,” none of which matched our description.

I longed for the guide to list a few more points of interest while we stood clumped on a relatively flat part of the trail. My heart rate had only returned from nuclear meltdown to danger zone when he said, “Let’s keep moving. This next section of the trail is pretty steep. Watch your step.”

Too many minutes later, the guide motioned us to another clearing so he could show us what the bear had eaten recently.

“It’s pretty steep here yet for a while…”

Okay. Jesus, I’ll be seeing You soon. Looking forward to it.

“But the trail will eventually flatten out. The last third is fairly level land as we work our way along the shore to our put-in point for the raft.”

Level. I definitely heard the word level. The trail will eventually flatten out. Those words became my theme song as I hauled my sorry carcass over the rocks and roots and up the torturous path. I would have quit. Any number of times. But I didn’t want to look like a sissy, for one. And two, how would the others have gotten my body back to civilization? Just give me a shove and roll me down the cliff face? No thanks.

I took another step and another and another because of the promise that the trail would eventually flatten out.

And that’s how we keep going after grief crushes us or disappointment slices us open or the path turns so steep we can’t breathe.

God promised that the trail would eventually flatten out. We can make it that far. Then He will—as my husband did—put His arm around us and say, “What a trooper!”

Looking forward to it.

PRAYER: Lord, I’m clinging to Your promise that the trail will eventually flatten out. Could I ride on Your shoulders until it does?

“The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be bowed down” (Psalm 145:14 KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released with Abingdon Press May 1, 2010–http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtZb0by984g. Cynthia writes stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

If He Could See Me Now

By Cynthia Ruchti –

I have the distinction of sharing a birth date with four key events in history—the birth of George Washington, the funeral of my beloved maternal grandfather, the funeral of my amazing father, and the funeral weekend of my cherished mother.

I don’t know why the Lord thought I should be the one with those honors.

My father died seventeen years ago. I still catch myself wanting to tell him something I know he’d find fascinating. He found most things fascinating. He read encyclopedias (the book kind) for fun.

He would have found the accessibility of the Internet more thrilling than an amusement park. His thirst for information would have made him a cyber-soaker-upper.

He loved learning. Thanks for passing that on to me, Dad.

He loved words. Double thanks. (He was a ringer in the game of Balderdash. He knew all the real definitions!)

He was passionate about communicating the wonders tucked into God’s Word. Infinite thanks.

I wish he could have met my grandchildren, and they him. They would have adored him. He’d read them stories, never failing to include all the words on the title and copyright pages. He’d build Lego towers to rival Babel. He’d play Catapult-the-Kid in the pool and draw cartoon characters with a skill that would make us wonder how he decided between art and music for a career.

If he could see me now, I think he’d be pleased on at least three levels.

1. I love words as much as he did. I love the taste of them. Their texture. Their pulsating power.
2. My appetite to share God’s truths is never satiated.
3. Music still moves me.

One of my fondest latter years’ memories with my dad is sitting in the back of the movie theater, watching the credits roll following the viewing of “Amadeus.” We stayed, entranced, until the last frame—not for the names, but for the music.

Would my dad have been a blogger if he’d lived that long? Maybe. He had plenty to say. In some ways, he’s still speaking.

PRAYER: Father God, thank You for giving me the heritage of a godly dad and a godly mom. Thank You for birthing things in me that speak of them. May I represent them—and You—with honor and grace all the days of my life.

“Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise” (Ephesians 6:2 KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released with Abingdon Press May 1 and a Christmas novella—A Door County Christmas—released in September. Cynthia writes stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

Harbored

By Cynthia Ruchti –

I snapped a picture while on a mother-daughter getaway in Wisconsin’s Door County two springs ago—a lone boat tethered in a quiet harbor. I’ve turned to the photo many times, wondering why I’m drawn to it. What is it about it that speaks something deep to my heart? If I can’t define it, is it worth pondering?

I took it out again one day in the throes of an early snowstorm, the kind that spreads a layer of ice first in order to give the snow something to slide on. Was I drawn to the serene photograph because it’s just natural that I would find blue skies and non-frozen water appealing? It was more than that. Green leaves on the trees? Lush, but more than that. The reminder that spring in Wisconsin offers air that won’t freeze your lung lining when inhaled?

No. It was the sailboat. The lone sailboat at rest.

Tethered in its slip, the boat wasn’t currently performing the task for which it was designed. The boat in the photograph is at rest. Harbored. Waiting.

I wonder if it is restless. Does it strain against the moorings because it is eager to get on with it, to serve, to move, to go places, to offer its owner the benefit of its gifts?

Looking at it, I’d have to say it looks content, satisfied to wait for the day the owner walks down the length of the concrete pier, hops aboard, releases her from her moorings, unfurls her sails, and with a gentle push away from the immovable pier says, “Okay, girl. Let’s see where the wind takes us today.”

When the Lord comes down the pier to release me from the ropes that keep me in the harbor, will He find me resting but ready? Or restless?

PRAYER: Lord, Your Word tells me that I find my rest in You. It reminds me that Your ways are not my ways, nor Your thoughts my thoughts. It even tells me that Your timing is perfect when mine is so often rushed. Create in me a new heart, Lord, one that’s willing to rest and wait for You to set me sailing.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8, KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and president of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—released with Abingdon Press May 1 and a Christmas novella—A Door County Christmas—released in September. Cynthia writes stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark (www.cynthiaruchti.com).

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