Son Of A Saint

By James Watkins

Mr. and Mrs. Manoah were model parents. Despite living in a land that “did evil in the eyes of the Lord,” they ate a kosher diet, prayed to the one true God, offered sacrifices, and didn’t even drink. A Jewish mother would be proud to have them for a son and daughter-in-law!

After being childless for a number of years, an angel of the Lord announced they would have a son. What joy as he “grew and the Lord blessed him, and the Spirit of the Lord began to stir him.” The son of these godly parents was none other than—Samson!

Now wait a minute. What about the promises of “training up a child in the way he shall go and when he is old he will not depart from it”? Aren’t godly parents guaranteed godly kids?

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When Your Children Hurt

By Gina Stinson

My seven year old has extreme stage fright. She takes after her mother. Recently, after practicing for four months on a Christmas musical, purchasing the traditional formal attire for such an event, and spending some extra time getting ready, she almost didn’t make it up on stage. As the children filed in to step onto the stage, I noticed her usually light complexion was a rosy shade of pink. At first I thought, she is just a little flushed. Then I saw the look that accompanied the blush. She was frightened out of her mind. Tears were streaming down her face. She wanted her mommy. She was scared!

I tried to encourage her to go ahead and get on the stage with the other forty children. She reluctantly continued up the steps. When she got into place she was still sobbing and looked like a frightened kitten. For a couple of moments, I wanted to step in and rescue her, make it all better, let her step out of the program, but rational thinking got the best of me and I decided to wait a few minutes and see if she could regain composure. And then it happened.

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When Our Lease Is Done

By Peter Lundell

I recently moved my mother to a new, downsized apartment. At times the process involved careful sorting and packing; other times demanded chucking things in boxes or in the trash. At the end of the move, the walls were bare and wounded with nail holes and plastic drywall anchors. The carpet lay lined and pocked with impressions of once-arranged furniture. And the windows stood stark and vacant against the sunlight. The furniture and decorations that once made it home were gone, leaving only an empty shell.

Throughout our lives we may go through some phases with great care and others with wild abandon. And at each phase of life, we will leave the previous one behind—a place that was once home but is now gone, like an empty apartment.

At death we may leave behind money and furniture, but the life we lived—the space we took up, the “us” that people knew—will be gone, empty as a moved-out-house.

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The Elf Is Watching…

By Gina Stinson

Every year about this time a small little stuffed creature arrives at our home—Elf. Elf is a friendly little guy who is responsible for reporting back to Santa about the behavior of my kids. He’s Santa’s helper.

It’s convenient. Elf shows up and my parental instructions are more readily obeyed and my kids actually move more quickly and with a little more excitement when routine chores are accomplished. It’s hilarious. I giggle to myself as I watch.

Eagerness to please, quick response times, and such remarkable devotion to a stuffed animal that only comes around three months of the year is cute…and understandable for little children. Adults would be ridiculous to act that way. But in a world where materialism, money, and employment are valued above character, morals, and values, we might need to take a second look into the Elf’s mirror. Who are we trying to please?

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Wait Not Want

By Cheri Cowell

I’m terrible at waiting. Some people seem to possess a wonderful abundance of patience, but I’m not one of those people. Others who know me say I have a lot of patience and I’m good at waiting, but they don’t know what is going on inside. Inside I’m pacing, I’m making to-do lists, I’m thinking through all the possibilities, and I’m agitated. I’m not patient. I’m not waiting, I’m wanting. I’m wanting for the event to start, the situation to improve, or the circumstance to change. What is the difference, you ask? When I am truly waiting I have a peace about me that says I know the event, situation, or circumstance is a done deal. It is going to happen and I don’t need to fret or worry. There isn’t anything I can or need to do but wait. It says that I am not in control, but have submitted that authority to Someone bigger and better able to handle it than me. When I want, I feel I have control, and therefore, all the responsibility. Advent is a time to wait.

John says it so clearly: When Christ was born; True Light came into the world. That scene has been completed and is completed in us again every Christmas. Advent is our time to wait on the Lord, knowing full well that the gift will arrive on time. 

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