Could This Be The Year?

By Cynthia Ruchti –

Fresh calendars are like an unquilted stretch of new snow begging for footprints. They tease with their crisp, unmarked pages, claiming that life won’t be messy and scribbled on before the year is over.

I’m old enough to know better, to realize that somewhere within those relatively blank pages are marks already—notes about an upcoming doctor appointment made months ago, reminders about tax form due dates, speaking engagements, deadlines…

The thirty-one open boxes under the stunning photograph of a lighthouse will start to fill before I take a step back to admire it. Church meetings. A family get-together. Worship practice (what an odd phrase! Practice for worship is…worship!). Birthdays I won’t remember soon enough to send a card. Garbage night. Phone numbers. Things that don’t fit on the to-do list.

When I take down this calendar to put up a new one next January, what story will these pages tell?

Will this be the year that I conquer my battle with—? It’s a multiple choice question.

Is this the year I stick to the discipline of—? Again, multiple choice.

Will this year be marked by lightning-fast obedience, divinely-appointed risk-taking, books read and written, regret-free living in relationships?

How many squares on the calendar will be filled with surprises, unexpected challenges, things I’d rather forget than remember?

Is this the year I won’t flinch when they come?

Although I regularly commit my day to the Lord, I don’t remember laying a whole calendar before Him. But it seems like a good idea, doesn’t it?

How can I move from block to block, three hundred and sixty five times, without His help? How can I hope to navigate that maze, dodging distractions and things circled four times and accented with exclamation marks if I’m not letting Him lead the way?

PRAYER: Father God, Lord of my life, early in the morning (and the year) will I rise up and seek You. I need You every hour, every block, every page.

“O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee… Because thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice. My soul followeth hard after thee: thy right hand upholdeth me,” (Psalm 63:1a, 7-8 KJV).

Today’s devotional is by Cynthia Ruchti, writer/producer of THE HEARTBEAT OF THE HOME radio ministry and past president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Cynthia’s debut novel—They Almost Always Come Home—and novella—“The Heart’s Harbor” in A Door County Christmas—released in 2010. Cynthia writes stories of hope that glows in the dark. www.cynthiaruchti.com.

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.

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