Thank Goodness for Mercy

by Susan Dollyhigh –

It is of the LORD’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.

They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23 KJV

Moca’s sad, weak eyes looked up at me conveying her discomfort while her head, seemingly too heavy to lift, remained on the floor. My miniature dachshund’s brown tail that usually wagged upon seeing me lay limp. Moca, who had feasted on a delectable baby bird, was now paying the price with what I thought was just a bad tummy ache. After a couple of days with no improvement, I gathered Moca’s ten-pound body and carried her to the car. She lay still in my arms even as I walked into the vet’s office where she usually tried to escape the upcoming torture by running the other way. Upon examining Moca, Dr. Truban diagnosed pancreatitis and immediately hospitalized the sick puppy.

After a week of IV fluids and antibiotics, Moca was allowed to come home but had to return to the vet for weekly check-ups and blood work. Dr. Truban, who’d taken care of Moca, was usually available for these appointments but one day was out of the office and his partner, Dr. Brinegar, filled in for him.

“What’s going on with Moca?” Dr. Brinegar asked as he walked into the exam room.

“Well, Moca ate a baby bird a few weeks ago and…”

Dr. Brinegar’s eyes grew wide with dismay and he looked first at Moca and then back at me. “I love birds,” he said. “In fact, I love those feathered creatures so much I even specialized in birds in vet school.”

Looking at Moca I thought, You, Puppy, could be in big trouble. The man who holds your very life in his hands loves birds. And he knows you ate one.

Knowing that Moca brought this illness upon herself and that she did so by ending the life of an innocent baby bird could have impacted the amount of compassion Dr. Brinegar had on Moca. His mercy level could have plummeted upon hearing this dreadful news. But it didn’t. Dr. Brinegar gently picked up the guilty puppy. “Come here, Girl. Let’s see how you’re doing.” It was soon evident Dr. Brinegar didn’t care what sin had gotten Moca into her predicament; he only wanted to help her get well. Thank goodness for mercy.

Aren’t we glad that the One who holds our very life in His hands has the same kind of mercy on us? In the Old Testament book of Psalms, King David, whom God referred to as a man after His own heart, cried out to God for mercy after a time of great sin in his life. King David’s affair with Bathsheba led to the subsequent murder of her husband Uriah. Sadly, the child born of this affair died and as a result of all of this, King David ended up a broken man. But King David knew his healing could only come from God and he cried out in Psalm 51:1, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.”

When we, like King David, go to the Lord and confess our sin, the details could affect the amount of compassion God has on us. His mercy level could plummet upon

hearing the dreadful news. But it doesn’t. He gently pulls us into his arms. “Come here, my child. Tell me all about it.” It’s soon evident Our Father only wants to heal us from our sin and restore us to a right relationship with Him. Thank goodness for mercy.

Blessings,

Susan D.

Our Father, thank you for Your mercy. Thank you that it is new every morning. Great is your faithfulness, Lord unto us.

Christmas Comfort

By Robin J. Steinweg –

“Okay, Mom, when do we get to open our Christmas Eve pajamas?”

“What do you mean, ‘Christmas Eve pajamas’? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Our tall sons nudge each other and eyeball the presents under the tree. It’s tradition: Go to church, open one gift, sing carols together; drink cocoa, gobble cookies, pray together, then hit the sack.

“You know. What we get every Christmas Eve. What color are they this year?”

“I am clueless. Enlighten me.”

Son number two rolls his eyes. “We’re on to you, Mom.”

I am all innocence. “I can’t imagine why you think you’re getting pajamas.”

“It might have something to do with the fact that we’ve gotten them every Christmas Eve for eighteen years.”

“That was pure coincidence. I’m sure you’ll be surprised this year.”

Son number one pats my head. “Right, Mom. It’ll be a surprise to find out if they match or not.”

I hand them and their father packages marked “Christmas Eve.” I make them open them simultaneously. They each pull out dark green lounge pants printed with bright-colored strings of lights, and T-shirts, each a different color. “Surprise!” I holler. They laugh and go to put them on.

Traditions and rituals are not only fun, but comforting. Like knowing that Girl Scouts will appear at the door in the fall selling cookies; Mr. Rogers will don a sweater and canvas shoes on every rerun; It’s A Wonderful Life will be on TV several times each Christmas season; and bell-ringers for the Salvation Army kettles have been out in force.

The first Christmas did not offer any traditions. Conquering Romans forced the Hebrews to travel to the towns of their birth for a census, regardless of the hardship it placed on them. A woman in labor, turned away from crowded inns, found small comfort in giving birth to her firstborn in a stable. Angels appeared and terrified some shepherds. A star, never seen before, lit the way for magi to travel from the east to find a Child, the prophesied King of the Jews.

Even so, God’s Word rings true: “Comfort, comfort My people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that…her sin has been paid for.” (Isaiah 40:1-2). Now there’s comfort to last from Christmas to eternity!

QUOTE: “…remember, Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray. O, tidings of comfort and joy; comfort and joy! O, tidings of comfort and joy!” (Traditional English carol)

“I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow” (Jeremiah 31:13c NIV).

Today’s devotional is by Robin J. Steinweg. Robin’s life might be described using the game Twister: the colored dots are all occupied, limbs intertwine (hopefully not to the point of tangling), and you never know which dot the arrow will point to next, but it sure is fun getting there!

Enjoy the Season

By Cami Checketts –

Tis the season to enjoy time with loved ones, reflect on the marvelous gift of our Savior’s birth, reach out a helping hand to those in need, and cuddle in front of the tree with hot cocoa and cookies. Christmas is a wonderful time of year filled with joyful moments, but often I find myself overindulging on treats and being lazy; and instead of feeling gleeful, I feel sick.

A few tips to keep us all happy and energized throughout the season:
1. Only eat something if it is truly a Christmas treat. Just because they make Oreos with red and green filling does not mean they’re an exclusive Christmas treat, but Aunt Abbie’s peppermint dessert? That’s worth savoring.
2. Turn on Christmas music and dance. My boys think Mom spinning to the Nutcracker is hilarious.
3. Go ice-skating, sledding, snow-shoeing or cross-country skiing. Try out a new sport. The variety is great for improving physical fitness and the challenge is wonderful for your mind.
4. Go for a walk outside. When the temperature is below 50 you burn more calories. It’s worth it to freeze the tip of your nose but if it’s so cold your eyelashes crystallize you’d better take it to the treadmill!
5. Bake your favorite treats, have a sample, then take them to all the neighbors. The visits will be more fun than the baked goods.
6. Enjoy your family and forget about everything else. Play with your kids. Read Christmas stories and thrive on their childlike joy. Snuggle up with your sweetheart and burn some calories kissing in front of the tree.
7. Focus on the Savior and following his example of love and service, the real reason we celebrate this blessed holiday, and the joy will continue throughout the new year.

Merry Christmas!

Cami Checketts is a wife, mother of four boys, author, and exercise scientist. Her latest novel, The Sister Pact, is in stores now. www.camichecketts.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.

Wrapping up the Holiday

By Emily Parke Chase –

Shopping for Christmas gifts can be an exhausting task that involves dashing through the malls in a one-horse open sleigh, selecting gifts for that hard-to-please elf, and fighting the traffic on rooftops. Thus when it comes to wrapping gifts to put under the tree, some of us, and perhaps even Santa, run out of gas.

Wrapping packages probably dates back to prehistoric times when cavemen used wooly mammoth skins as gift wrap. As soon as less odorific alternatives were invented, people turned to papyrus, parchment, and finally paper. For many years, sheets of newspaper, especially the Sunday comics, worked fine. Of course, it took a few more years to invent cellophane tape. As a result, my friend’s gifts tend to resemble Egyptian mummies, using tape in place of gauze.

Next came bows. An enormous shiny bow on top of a package is like melted cheese on top of a church potluck casserole: It can hide a multitude of sins. In not-so-long ago times, believe it or not, people actually tied ribbons on their packages without help from professionals. Now we  pay others to fold, bend, and mutilate ribbons into complex shapes that rival my worst bad-hair day.

Boxes come in assorted sizes and shapes. They hide awkward bumps and lumps. Plain brown boxes worked fine until one day someone discovered they could shape them into unique sizes for specific items and thus let the whole world know that Dad was receiving a tie for Christmas. The next logical step was gift bags. These offered the perfect solution for last minute gifts. You could open the front door and receive a fruit cake from a neighbor, plop it in a bag as you walk through the house, and then open the back door and pass the cake along to the next deliveryman. Like boxes, these bags once came in various shades of brown, beige and ecru (a French word, meaning “brown”). Now they come decorated with holiday hues.

Still there is room for creativity. When my father asked for new cans of tennis balls for Christmas one year, my brothers and I wrapped each ball individually in Christmas wrap and tied them on a small Christmas tree. Dad tried very hard to thank us even as he grieved over the fact that the vacuum seals of the cans were destroyed in this process. (He experienced enormous relief when he discovered that the individually wrapped balls were actually used ones; with the new ones still safely stored in their air-tight cans under the tree.)

Is this painful ritual of wrapping Christmas gifts truly necessary? Is there any theological basis in scripture for this annual rite? Just one: Long before holiday wrapping paper, bows, boxes and gift bags became popular, God Himself took time to wrap up all His love in a bundle of  swaddling clothes. Then He placed His gift in a manger for us to find on Christmas morning.

Thank God for His Son, a gift too wonderful for words! (2 Cor. 9:15 NLT)

The author of this article is busy wrapping her gifts, but feel free to visit her at emilychase.com.

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