tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9702802461999938002024-02-19T01:34:11.460-08:00Everyday EpiphaniesChristie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-17720924879365921622022-12-25T17:28:00.000-08:002022-12-25T17:28:07.053-08:00Behold Him<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Behold
the King has come<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Divinity
Incarnate<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Creator
of the world<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Breathing
our air<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Behold
what Light has come<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
the dark cannot contain it<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
Savior of the world is finally here<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh
come let us adore him<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">For
He alone is worthy<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Christ
the Lord”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">--Phil
Wickham, ‘Behold”</span></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
Greek word in the New Testament which is translated “behold” calls the listener
to pay special attention to what will follow the speaker’s command. Several
times the command is given by an angel to emphasize the importance of the
message he brings. There are two Bible verses that use the word behold which
stand out to me. The first is Luke 2:10 which says: “And the angel said to
them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be
for all the people.” The second is John 1:29 which states: “The next day he saw
Jesus coming toward him, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the
sin of the world!” In the first verse, an angel is announcing to Bethlehem shepherds
the good news of Christ’s birth. In the second verse, John the Baptist declares
Jesus’s identity as that of a sacrificial lamb who has come to atone for all
mankind. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In
his song “Behold,” Phil Wickham captures this juxtaposition of Jesus as the
babe in the manger and the Suffering Servant on the cross. His Christmas song
incorporates elements of my Mom’s favorite carol “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”
which is a call to worship the Christ-child. For several months, God has been cultivating
in me a greater appreciation for Who He is and has been calling me to a deeper
experience of worship. For all these reasons, today my heart has sung joyfully and
with adoration to “the King of the angels, the Word of the Father, Christ the Lord.”
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-24894380994479400542022-12-24T19:50:00.004-08:002022-12-24T19:50:57.140-08:00Be Still<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Sleep,
sleep, sleep</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">'Tis
the eve of our Saviour's birth<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
night is peaceful all around You<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Close
Your eyes<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let
sleep surround You<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sleep,
sleep, sleep<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">'Tis
the eve of our Saviour's birth”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">--“Still,
Still, Still”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
love the hush of Christmas Eve. Everything is quiet and still, the house lit
only by a myriad of candles and a tree with way too many lights on it. That’s
how my parents did it. And that’s how I do it. I love the silence that is the
exclamation mark at the end of the shopping and baking frenzy and the comma
that pauses life before the hoopla of Christmas day. For Christmas Eve, I love
to sing the lullaby-like Christmas songs like “Silent Night,” “Away in a Manger”
and the Austrian folk hymn “Still, Still, Still.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
me “the eve of our Saviour’s birth” is a time to slow down and reflect on all
He has done universally as well as all He has done for me personally. It’s a
time to pray for the loved ones who bless my life whether I talk to them daily
or only communicate with them at this time of year. It is a time to allow God’s
peace to fill my heart, the peace He came into this world to bring as “God and
sinners are reconciled.”</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-29391058491601807892022-12-23T19:57:00.000-08:002022-12-23T19:57:17.610-08:00"O Come O Come Emmanuel"<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“O
come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Our
spirits by Thine advent here<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Disperse
the gloomy clouds of night<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
death's dark shadows put to flight”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mom
knew how to tell a good story. How to draw in her audience. How to connect with
their hearts. She used this gift, along with her intense study of the Old Testament,
to teach that half of the Bible in a way that made the prophets and kings of
ancient Israel come alive. Her explanation of the tabernacle and how it foreshadowed
Christ’s work on Calvary was revolutionary in its time. Perhaps it’s due to her
influence that the sacred song “O Come O Come Emmanuel” has long been one of my
favorites.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
hymn’s focus on Israel’s long wait for the Messiah pierces my heart as it
underscores the truth of Advent: it is a season of waiting. The uplifting refrain
encourages me to rejoice in the assurance that He will indeed return. It is one
song that instantly makes me think of Jesus’s impending second advent for which
all believers anxiously await. The hymn’s last stanza captures the longing we experience
and the hope we have</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“O
come, desire of nations, bind</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In
one the hearts of all mankind<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Bid
Thou our sad divisions cease<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
be Thyself our King of peace”<o:p></o:p></span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-9636568849835995372022-12-22T18:06:00.000-08:002022-12-22T18:06:06.176-08:00"We Three Kings"<p><span class="normaltextrun">Dusty camels lumber across the shifting sands as their
bejeweled saddles and weighty packs creak and sway to the rhythm of the night
wind. A rich perfume of frankincense and myrrh drifts alongside the travelers
as they follow a bright extraordinary star they first spotted in the eastern
sky. Is it really a star? Or is it a planet? Maybe it’s the Shekinah glory of God the
ancient Hebrew texts describe. </span><span class="normaltextrun">I wonder as I wander with this caravan journeying from the
Far East to the town of Bethlehem, nestled in the Judean hills. </span></p><p><span class="normaltextrun">Interestingly,
Matthew is the only one of the four gospel writers who includes the account of
the wise men, a story which nearly 2000 years later clergyman and hymn writer John Henry Hopkins, Jr.
would recount in the Christmas carol “We Three Kings.”</span><span class="eop"> </span><span class="normaltextrun">The song relates the magi’s journey as
well as the momentous birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The refrain, which ties all the elements together, highlights the
supernatural star that led the wise men to “the Perfect Light” to whom they
offered their treasures. </span><span class="eop"> </span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun">Like Matthew’s account, the song also describes the costly
gifts, including myrrh, which the magi brought to pay homage to the
Christ-child. Before His death, Jesus’s friend Mary would offer Him the best
she had when she broke open the alabaster jar and anointed Him with expensive
perfume made from spikenard. With Christmas just three days away, I ask myself
whether this Advent season I have surrendered anew my heart to Jesus and laid
my treasure at His feet in worship. </span><span class="eop"> </span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-75183074670868894442022-12-21T20:06:00.000-08:002022-12-21T20:06:17.803-08:00"Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus"<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Come,
thou long expected Jesus</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Born
to set Thy people free;</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">From
our fears and sins release us;<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Let
us find our rest in Thee”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
lyrical Christmas carol “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” is one that could
answer the question “What Child Is This?” Like a well-wrought poem, in just two
stanzas, Methodist hymn writer Charles Wesley’s song accurately and succinctly portrays
so much about Jesus. With poignancy and brevity, the carol tells of His birth,
His purpose, His mission, His relationship to mankind and His unique connection
to Israel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Wesley’s
words remind of just exactly who Jesus is. He may have entered the world once as
a helpless baby born in poverty, but He is for all time the King of kings. While
the wise men took Him gifts when they came to worship Jesus in Bethlehem, it is
He who offers the world so much more than we can imagine. Wesley’s carol tells
us that in addition to eternal salvation, Jesus offers us freedom, rest, hope,
and joy. A life with Jesus offers more than we could ever dream, but the key to
experiencing that life is to acknowledge Him as king and let Him rule in our
hearts both now and through all eternity.</span></p><br /><p></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-44120471104954780192022-12-20T19:06:00.000-08:002022-12-20T19:06:22.562-08:00"What Child Is This?"<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Growing
up, my denomination did not emphasize Advent. The entire focus was on Christmas,
both at church and at home, but as an adult I have come to appreciate the
contemplative nature of the Advent season which affords me time to really
reflect on who Jesus is and my relationship to Him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
Christmas carol “What Child Is This?” challenges listeners to explore their own
thoughts about the Christ-child before offering an answer filled with clarity
and truth as it tells the story of Jesus’s life and encourages listeners to
praise Him. The song encapsulates the entire message of the gospel while
telling us plainly who Jesus was and is:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Good
Christians, fear, for sinners here</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
silent Word is pleading.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nails,
spears shall pierce Him through,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">the
cross He bore for me, for you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hail,
hail the Word made flesh,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">the
Babe, the Son of Mary.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As
Christmas approaches, I pray my heart will not only delight in images of the
sweet baby Mary held in her arms in a dusty, smelly stable but that it will
also hear the message that even in a manger in Bethlehem, Jesus was silently interceding
for me.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-22404986499516315542022-12-19T19:43:00.000-08:002022-12-19T19:43:00.460-08:00"The Little Drummer Boy"<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">My
mom loved all things Christmas, but she especially loved Christmas music which
she usually started playing at Halloween. Thanks to her influence, I also
developed a deep love and appreciation for Christmas hymns and carols, but one
of my least favorites has always been “Little Drummer Boy.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last week during an
advent worship service, though, these words from the song caught my attention:
“I played my best for Him.” I have asked myself off and on all week whether I
am giving Jesus my best this Advent season. And if I’m truthful, I haven’t been.
I’ve been distracted by too many activities, focusing too much of my attention
on the trappings of Christmas and not the Christ-child. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last week’s service
helped to redirect my attention toward the Lord whose birth and sacrifice are
the only true reason for this season. Yet I still question whether I gave Him
my best this last week. I am hoping to be more aware, more present and more intentional
about this as I enter into this last week of Advent 2022.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-86650850487728637702022-01-16T16:14:00.000-08:002022-01-16T16:14:15.150-08:00It's My Birthday Too<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXoLVpoPZM041rj5AlzwgLyPJolAQwHHsD3nKURYjyrYT69VZ-ZJkdTcLPaMJxJ62p9SfqqTVm0NRxwnjzehAcN_1L7ttOAABG3_ke67Zj7qS0sCqWW256y31dCgWRZQTt1lU_M62I5O110fyErgEoCuGuT-jSjBFPv3loyIsY-mikN8GSGEBEkytl3Q=s501" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="501" data-original-width="479" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXoLVpoPZM041rj5AlzwgLyPJolAQwHHsD3nKURYjyrYT69VZ-ZJkdTcLPaMJxJ62p9SfqqTVm0NRxwnjzehAcN_1L7ttOAABG3_ke67Zj7qS0sCqWW256y31dCgWRZQTt1lU_M62I5O110fyErgEoCuGuT-jSjBFPv3loyIsY-mikN8GSGEBEkytl3Q=w195-h203" width="195" /></a></div><br />“You
say it’s your birthday <p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It's my birthday too, yeah</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'm glad it's your birthday</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Happy Birthday to you"</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">-The Beatles </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvQXEAcxhhCJLql6AkC4YJDjjY9UFXhuv4UpfezQ96ANY4yLrf4zLuewildyeeBWL88KQ1Apl9L890UhW3NOPDL_YPc1q7VhkMjymsa6O74bIpYXOgKY8HRnfOGQyuDmt1uaPJVq_EI__pTP7tgnQFc_nHNQ2qv80_Sq9HSdxhMgOfnoLI8ZDvTJv4MA=s1233" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1075" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvQXEAcxhhCJLql6AkC4YJDjjY9UFXhuv4UpfezQ96ANY4yLrf4zLuewildyeeBWL88KQ1Apl9L890UhW3NOPDL_YPc1q7VhkMjymsa6O74bIpYXOgKY8HRnfOGQyuDmt1uaPJVq_EI__pTP7tgnQFc_nHNQ2qv80_Sq9HSdxhMgOfnoLI8ZDvTJv4MA=w192-h220" width="192" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“In
the same way, the women are to be worthy of respect, not malicious talkers but
temperate and trustworthy in everything.” -1 Timothy 3:11</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“A
gracious, generous woman </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">will be honored with a splendid reputation . . . ”</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Proverbs
11:16 (TPT)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Today
is my grandmother’s 92</span><sup style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">nd</sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> birthday. It’s also the birthday of my dear
friend Gena, whom I often call “Big Sis.” And it’s my birthday too. Through the
years it’s been a lot of fun sharing my birthday with these two special ladies.
For my tenth birthday I remember my grandmother taking me to my favorite pizza
restaurant—just the two of us—even though she didn’t even really care for pizza.
Feeling adventurous, she ordered a Hawaiian pizza for herself (mine was cheese
only), and then shared with me how she would love to travel to Hawaii someday. She
never made it there, but when she was in her 70s, my dad’s intrepid mother went
on a mission trip to Guatemala.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Like
Grandmother, my friend Gena also has a spirit of adventure as well as a heart
for service. One of my favorite birthday memories with her was two years ago
when our mutual friend flew from Texas to Florida where Big Sis lives. They surprised
me with a phone call asking me to meet them for lunch. I drove over and the
three of us had a wonderful day celebrating together.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
have so many memories I treasure of times spent with grandmother and with Gena.
But one of the most important aspects of my relationships with each of them is our
spiritual connection. They have prayed with me during ordinary times, as well as
during crises. They have shared Bible verses with me to encourage and strengthen
and guide me. And they have even used scripture to gently rebuke me when I needed
it. They consistently cheer me on in all of my endeavors, but most of all, in
my walk with the Lord. And I am thankful to share a birthday with two such
godly women. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-27853835062271895312022-01-02T19:47:00.000-08:002022-01-02T19:47:32.726-08:00Lessons from Christmas 2021<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s
hard for me to believe as I write this post, another Christmas is over and a
new year is beginning. Each year, I eagerly anticipate the Christmas season,
and each year I try to place the decorations just so, write personalized cards
to friends and family, and buy the perfect gifts for loved ones. I grew up
internalizing the idea that Christmas needed to be perfect to be enjoyed. But
after I had a colossal meltdown last year—due to the chaos Christmas decorating
generated in my home and life—I decided I’d better rethink some things. So,
this year I relaxed and aimed for beauty, peace, and joy rather than perfection.
In the process, I learned a few things…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lesson
1: The holidays don’t have to be perfect. (And they won’t be). My house doesn’t
have to be Insta-worthy, even in December.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lesson
2: You can keep decorating up to the last minute. I don’t have to have
everything in place by the Saturday after Thanksgiving. In response to this
epiphany, I kept decorating until a few days before Christmas. Not because I
wanted perfection, but because I wanted beauty and there were some decorations,
like the giant wreath on my gate, that had been left behind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Lesson
3: Jesus really is the reason for the season. All through Advent I continually
tried to re-focus on the entire reason we even celebrate Christmas. Focusing on
the miracle of Christmas and the amazing Love it signifies, helped
re-prioritize my activities and my energy. And brought me the peace and joy the
angels proclaimed to the Bethlehem shepherds 2000 years ago.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ultimately,
Christmas 2021 helped me realize the only perfection involved in the holiday is
the Christ Himself. And in His light, everything else pales anyway.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-52518237433143613792021-12-31T21:00:00.000-08:002021-12-31T21:00:12.112-08:00My Testimony is His Faithfulness<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Psalm
119:90: “Your faithfulness continues through all generations…”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Time
and time again, You’ve proven You’ll do just what you said. Great is Your
faithfulness to me.” –Maverick City Music “Promises”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
other day I was listening to “Promises” by Maverick City Music and told my
friend, “That’s my testimony. God is faithful.” Of course, there’s a lot of complexity,
depth and breadth to my spiritual journey and my relationship with the Lord.
But ultimately, if I had to sum up my beliefs, my experience, and my
relationship to the Lord in one sentence, that’s it: “Great is Your
faithfulness to me.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Both
Old Testament and New Testament passages in the Bible extol the enduring faithfulness
of God in general terms which apply to all believers. And I believe those
statements to be true. But my testimony, my witness to His truth, is that He is
personally faithful to me. The lyrics of “Promises” proclaim that “Your
faithfulness, it never runs out. I put my faith in Jesus, my anchor to the
ground, my hope and firm foundation, He’ll never let me down.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
He hasn’t. He protected me when I nearly drowned, when I fell headfirst out of
a car, when I swerved on a busy interstate and spun-out into the median. He’s
provided work when I had none. He’s stretched my finances so that I have never
missed a bill. He’s brought me prayer partners to encourage, comfort, and
strengthen me. He’s comforted me when I’ve lost loved ones. He’s given me
strength and courage when I’ve faced all sorts of challenges. I may not always
understand His will or His ways, but I can always trust His faithfulness.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-60316262874102487592021-02-11T20:11:00.001-08:002021-02-11T20:12:53.533-08:00Checked Off and Checked Out<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Whatever
you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord…” </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">-Colossians
3:23</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’m
not really sure when I began making to-do lists. Junior high? High school?
Birth? Order has always been paramount to me and making lists helps me organize
my time, my life, my goals. I get a sense of satisfaction when I draw a line
through an item or put a check mark, sometimes with a flourish, in front of a
task. But I recently discovered there’s a dark side to all this list making and
marking.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">It
happened a few weeks ago as I multi-tasked my way through the end of the day,
and silently tossed up a prayer in response to a friend’s request. While still
heartfelt, the communication felt a little perfunctory. It happened a few other
times with prayers and also with exercise which I normally really enjoy. I
realized I was just going through the motions, completely disengaged from some
important things in my life. Somehow life had been reduced into a series of
tasks to be accomplished and I was mindlessly attempting to finish them in
order to move on to the “next thing.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
wish I could say that since that epiphany I have changed and am now intentional
about each of my prayers and all of my words and actions. That would just be a
lie. Sometimes I am still checked out as I check off my lists. But I am trying
daily to be more present in my own life, more aware of the inner narrative that
is subtly and profoundly impacting my life and the lives of those I care about.
And I’m drawing close again to the One who made me, understands me, and loves
me whether I mark off all the tasks on my list or not.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-48348213870611138662021-01-24T20:21:00.001-08:002021-01-24T20:21:27.624-08:00Sparrows<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
January morning started out cold and drizzly and bleak. But to me, it was a
beautiful day. It was just days before my birthday, a time which brings up all
sorts of wonderful memories—many of which occurred on similarly bleak winter
days. On this particular frigid Monday, I was in the middle of praying when God
prompted me to look out the window at a cluster of leafless trees, diamond-like
raindrops clinging to their spikey gray branches. A sudden quick movement among
the bare limbs caught my eye, and I realized there was a tiny gray and brown
bird flitting around in the treetop. I don’t really know what species the bird
belonged to, but I imagined it was a sparrow. And I was filled with peace as I
watched it dart from one branch to another, scrounging for food. The bird was
simply being a bird, oblivious to the cold and rain and the pandemic that has
bound us all in fear for nearly a year.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
smiled, thinking of the Bible verses about sparrows. Matthew 10: 29-31 says: “Are
not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground
outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all
numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” The
moment was a culmination of weeks of God bringing to mind sparrows. A friend
had sent me a link to a video of Audrey Assad’s song “Sparrows” which is based
on the classic gospel hymn “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” Cory Asbury’s “Sparrows”
was another song God had been using to direct my focus to the deep love and
concern expressed in the verses in Matthew. The chorus of his song says:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You
take good care of me.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">You know what I need before I even ask a thing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">You
hold me in Your hands with a kindness that never ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
carried in Your love no matter what the future brings.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’m
grateful not only for these songs which have encouraged me, but especially for
the little bird God sent as a tangible reminder of His presence and His
provision. I will never cease to be amazed at a love the depths of which I will
never truly comprehend.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-46250252882052555762020-12-24T20:38:00.003-08:002020-12-24T20:38:35.624-08:00All Is Calm, All Is Bright<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
so many people, 2020 has been a bleak year filled with fear and despair. Life
was also bleak for many who lived in Judea 2000 years ago. The humble carpenter
Joseph faced the difficult decision of whether to marry his betrothed or expose
her pregnancy with a child he did not father, and risk his community stoning
her. Mary faced the overwhelming choice of whether to submit to God’s will and
become the mother of His Son. Even once they chose to obey God, life and Rome
handed them another challenge when Caesar called for everyone to return to
their hometowns for a census.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
a poor couple in a desert land long before cars were invented, this was an
arduous trip, made even more difficult by the fact that it was just about time
for Mary to give birth. Once they arrived in Bethlehem, they found there was “no
room in the inn.” So, they spent the night in a stable, (which scholars say was
most likely a cave), filled with animals. For Mary and Joseph, the night was
probably filled with fear, uncertainty, pain, and disappointment. Until Jesus
was born, and they held a miracle in their arms.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">In
his Christmas carol “Silent Night,” Joseph Mohr described the night this way: “Silent
night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright, ‘round yon virgin mother and
Child.” His words evoke the peace and hope that only Jesus can provide. Even
now when life seems unstable, chaotic, uncertain, Jesus’ presence can inspire
us to still proclaim that all is calm and all is indeed bright in the midst of
the Light of the world.</span></p>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-13589228124809515562020-07-23T19:45:00.002-07:002020-07-23T19:45:29.016-07:00Dwell in Hope<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“May
the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that
you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” – Romans 15:13 </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Therefore,
my heart rejoiceth . . . <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my flesh
moreover shall dwell in hope.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">–Psalm
16:9 Darby Translation Bible</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last
week in a phone conversation, my dear friend described an experience she had a
couple of years ago as “being on the sharp edge of hopelessness.” As she
comforted and encouraged me, I told myself I was not in that place. Discouraged.
Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Weary. Unfortunately, that sounds dangerously close to
hopelessness to me. Perhaps that’s why for months now God has encouraged me to
focus on the word hope. It became a theme in my hand-lettering art and one day
while looking for inspiration, I stumbled upon Psalm 16:9, which in the Darby
translation ends “my flesh moreover shall dwell in hope.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">As
the pandemic continues unabated and violent riots have swept the country like a
scourge, I have continued to meditate on the verse. Strong’s Concordance says the
word for “dwell” in Psalm 16:9 comes from the Hebrew yis-kon which is used to
mean “to settle down, abide, to dwell.” It’s a strong word with the connotation
not only of really living and being very present within a place, but it also speaks
of contentment and peace.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
words “in hope” are lā-ḇe-ṭaḥ which Strong’s defines as “securely.” In the
Bible, hope often is connected to faith which stems from our choice to trust
God. Therefore, we can have hope and rest secure when we trust in God’s perfect,
unchanging character and His eternal, unfailing love. As Savior, Redeemer, and
Healer, Jesus is the very embodiment of hope so choosing to “remain, abide, and
settle down” in His presence is choosing to dwell in the only secure source of
living, lasting hope.</span></div>
<br />Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-3366290849745083582020-06-27T21:14:00.000-07:002020-06-27T21:14:01.304-07:00Cinderella's Worth
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cinderella
has always been my favorite fairy tale. The glass slippers and glittering ball
gown. A fairy godmother to grant all my wishes. A dreamy waltz with a handsome
prince. And true love. When I was little, those were the things that drew me to
the story. But as I’ve gotten older, I began to wonder why was Cinderella, and not
another princess, really my favorite. The topic has resurfaced recently as I’ve
been working on a fairy-tale themed display at work. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So
as my thoughts again turned to Cinderella, I began pondering her character
rather than her wardrobe. She is a humble, optimistic girl who endures the loss
of her father, the alternating abuse and neglect of her stepmother and
stepsisters as well as their ridicule as she is made to live like a pauper while
they live like royalty. Despite her challenges, Cinderella never lashes out at
her tormenters. While her response might suggest she is weak, scripture would
say otherwise. “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is
right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you,
live at peace with everyone.</span> /<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with
good.” (Romans 12:17-18, 21) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Even
in the midst of heart-breaking mistreatment, Cinderella manages to love her
enemies and “do good” to those who hate her (Luke 6:27). When her step-family
receives an invitation to the prince’s ball, Cinderella’s positive attitude
shines through as she assumes she is invited as well. When her relatives then
cruelly destroy the dress she had planned to wear, she still finds hope in her
fairy godmother. Throughout all her trials, Cinderella perseveres, while maintaining
her joy, hope and optimism. Her grasping, merciless stepmother and vain, spiteful stepsisters could never see her worth. But perhaps it’s Cinderella's strength of character more than her physical
beauty which won Prince Charming’s heart. In the end, Cinderella’s goodness
triumphs over the evil in her life. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now
that’s a fairy tale princess I can believe in.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-65572453824763859902020-04-12T14:25:00.002-07:002020-04-12T14:25:59.741-07:00A Strange Easter<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
last few weeks I have heard so many folks, Christian and non-Christian alike, say,
“These are strange times.” Indeed, they are and as a result, this Easter was a
little strange, too. This morning, my friends and I drove to church where an
attendant held out a six-foot length of PVC pipe to help us park a “safe”
distance away from other vehicles. We waved at the cute baby beside us then tuned
the radio to the proper channel so we could hear the audio for church and turned
our gaze to a giant screen, reminiscent of ones for drive-in movies. The only
measure of normalcy was that the praise team led worship as usual followed by
the pastor’s sermon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As
I reflect on this morning’s unusual service, though, I think of how odd that
first Resurrection day was. There was a violent earthquake. Angels whose “appearance
was like lightning.” And an empty tomb. The women who loved Jesus and went to His
grave expecting to anoint His broken, dead body must have been bewildered when
they arrived and found Him gone. Then they heard the exultant angel’s message that
Jesus had risen, “just as He said.” And there was Mary Magdalene who mistook
Jesus for a gardener, yet instantly recognized Him when He called her by name. That
evening, Jesus walked through a locked door into the room where His disciples
were cowering in fear and declared, “Peace be with you!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That
first Easter was incomprehensible. It still is. The perfect Son of God died an
agonizing death so we could have eternal life with Him and the Father. As if that
gift is not enough, His sacrifice also offers us “abundant life” while we still
walk this earth. All we have to do is believe in Him, accept Him as our substitution,
and confess our sins. Out of His extravagant love and His overwhelming grace, the God of the universe and all creation, humbled Himself
to take our place and endure the punishment we deserve. Strange indeed.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="color: purple;"></span>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-72816986669601516472020-01-01T19:55:00.001-08:002020-01-01T19:55:15.834-08:00Burn the Ships<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">"<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Burn the ships, cut the ties</span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Send a flare into the night</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Say a prayer, turn the tide</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Dry your tears and wave goodbye</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">S<span style="font-size: 12pt;">tep into a new day</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">We can rise up from the dust and walk away</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">We can dance upon our heartache, yeah</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">So, light a match, leave the past, burn the
ships</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">And don't you look back…"</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">-- For King & Country</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">At the close of every year, I turn contemplative.
I’ve been that way since I was in elementary school when on Christmas night I
would crawl into bed, weighted down with a feeling of heaviness and sadness
that the old year was passing. Thankfully, I learned to also look forward to
the new year, anticipating its joys and its lessons. Still, I find that when a
new year dawns, it takes me a few days, sometimes weeks, to work through my
adjustment process. I review the previous year, analyzing it and trying to
determine how I can grow in the new year. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">And while I don’t establish resolutions, I do
set new year’s goals, usually spiritual, relational, and health ones. For the
last handful of years, I’ve also tried to choose a Bible verse to set the tone
for the year and to provide direction or a vision for me. I ask God to be at
the center of the endeavor, hoping He will give me His wisdom and guidance. I
haven’t gotten very far in the process yet for 2020, but I have been meditating
on the song “Burn the Ships” by For King & Country. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The song title and chorus are based on the
idea that some European explorers and ancient military leaders, once they
reached their destinations, would supposedly destroy their ships in an effort
to keep their men from deserting when challenges arose. The spiritual metaphor
is easy to establish and has been used by numerous pastors and Christian
leaders, for Christ calls us to leave behind all we know and hold dear in order
to follow Him. If we truly wish to become His disciples, we figuratively have
to burn the ships that would take us away from Him, back to our old lives. After
all, it is difficult to move forward if you are constantly looking back. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-15762830773760467582019-11-28T19:38:00.001-08:002019-11-28T19:39:13.699-08:00The Grace of Giving Thanks<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As far back as I can remember my sister and I
said “please” and “thank you” and “yes, ma’am” and “yes, sir.” Good manners
were as natural to us as breathing, but astonished strangers in the grocery
store used to ask my mom if they could buy me and my sister treats as a reward
for our conduct. At the time I was barely out of diapers, and apparently my
seemingly atypical actions had a significant impact on those around me. Mom declined
their generosity, believing we should learn to “do right” simply because it was
the right thing to do. Besides teaching us to use good manners in our speech, she
and Daddy insisted we write thank-you notes to friends and relatives for gifts
and special deeds of kindness. While my parents also modeled the behaviors they
expected from my sister and me, they never explained their reasoning; perhaps the
root of it all were the expectations of our ultra-polite Southern heritage. But
I think their actions, words, and instruction also stemmed from their deep
faith. They often reminded us that whatever we did in life, whether it was
obeying them or our teachers or doing homework or chores, we should act as if
we were doing those things for God (Colossians 3:17, 23). And by saying grace
before meals, they taught us that humility and gratitude should be an integral
part of our faith and our relationship with the Lord. </span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Jesus Himself sets the example for all of us
by offering thanks to God the Father in many circumstances. Matthew 15:36
records Jesus giving thanks to God for the bread and fish He broke before the
miracle of feeding the 5,000. The gospel of John records Jesus as thanking God
for hearing His prayers just before He calls Lazarus back from the dead. (John 11:41-43).
Jesus even showed how we should give thanks in the worst of circumstances when
He thanked God for the bread of the Passover and shared it with the disciples,
telling them it represented His body that would be broken within hours by a Roman
scourging and cross. (Matt. 26:26) With such a selfless example of gratitude, it’s
no wonder the United Methodist word of service and communion for “The Great
Thanksgiving” includes the exhortation: </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is right to give our thanks and praise.</span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is right, and a good and joyful thing,</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">always and everywhere to give thanks to you,</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b></b><br /></div>
Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-26748304962951403862019-10-27T20:35:00.000-07:002019-10-27T20:38:36.133-07:00Nestor and the Skim-boarders<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tropical Storm Nestor popped up out of nowhere,
an aberration for this late in hurricane season, and last weekend his
appearance threatened my plans to attend a Christian writer’s workshop I’d
eagerly anticipated for two months. So, every day I checked the weather
forecast for Orange Beach as Nestor drifted towards the Panhandle. And every
night I read emails from the workshop coordinator, eager to see whether the
event was going to be canceled. Thankfully, the weather cleared and that Saturday
morning I only had to battle a little drizzle during the 64-mile trip to the
coast. I even made it to the church with 15 minutes to spare.</span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When I walked in, I was met with excited
voices and friendly faces and as I expected, the all-day workshop was an enormous
blessing. One of the main ideas that stuck with me was whether as a writer I am
a planner or someone who flies by the seat of her pants. The speaker also reiterated
the idea that we need to make a commitment to our writing in order to succeed. Once
the conference ended and I exchanged hugs and contact info with some new
friends, I drove to my favorite beach. As soon as I cut off the car engine and
hopped out, I yanked off my good shoes and threw on my flip-flops. Standing
there still wearing my dress clothes, I scanned the horizon where the afternoon
sunshine played freeze tag with a sky full of fluffy gray clouds. Inhaling the
salty air, I smiled and hustled down the weathered boardwalk that dropped me
into soft piles of sugar-white sand. Almost as soon as my toes -which were
sporting ocean blue nail polish- hit the sand, I could hear the waves roar. As
I trudged further toward the shore, the sound grew and I spied huge rolling
waves crashing one on top of another. The unusually high surf was the only
evidence that overnight Nestor had brushed past the Alabama coast dropping off
rain and stirring up the gulf. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I stared past the breaking waves to a
smattering of surfers who were patiently waiting for the chance to ride into
shore. Then another group on the beach caught my attention and I walked over to
speak to some board-short-wearing fellas. Each loosely held on to a short board
that was propped on the sand in front him like a fiberglass shield. When I
asked them about surfing, one guy politely explained they were skim-boarding
and then told me the difference. I quickly caught on as I watched him and his
friends run pall-mall into the surf, throw down their boards and skim the wave
as they drifted back into shore. Amazed, I commented to the first guy that I
could never be brave enough to do what they did. Without missing a beat his
friend glanced at me and said, “You just need a plan. And then you need to make
a commitment to it.” I nodded in agreement. That’s good advice for
skim-boarding, for writing, and for life. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-14250739220108062422019-08-15T22:28:00.000-07:002019-08-15T22:28:05.781-07:0011 on the 15th
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
think subconsciously I’ve been waiting on the clock to roll over to midnight. Then
it won’t be August 15 anymore. But then…it won’t be August15 anymore. Today
marked the 11<sup>th</sup> anniversary of Mom’s passing and as the clock marks
the end of this day, it also reminds me that another entire year full of griefs
and challenges, joys and accomplishments has slipped past since I last paused
to remember her anniversary. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
think of Mom every day, many times a day, and she still worms her way into conversations
with those in my life who knew her and loved her. But August 15 is separate. A
dividing line: life with Mom/ life without Mom. I wouldn’t wish for her to come
back. Not now that she is safe and healthy and whole. But there are days I’d
love to hear her laugh or sing or to hear her tell one of the stories that
could make me laugh until tears rolled down my face. And so many times I would welcome a chance to glean a word of wisdom from her, especially when I have some sort of medical
crisis and desperately need her advice. I miss Mom's wit, her charm, and all the
love she poured out not just on me, but on so many people in our lives. Despite
years of poor health and a life filled with monstrously abusive relatives, Mom
was so vibrant, such a bright star and it was devastating to watch that light get
snuffed out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So,
no matter how many years pass, August 15 will always be the day Death stole my
sweet Mom from us. Until one day, there will be no more August or January or
June. And once again, I’ll get to hear her sing the hymns she so loved, this
time for all eternity. Until then, I’ll keep trying my best to honor her memory
by living out the lessons of love and faith and joy that her life taught me.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-33880292653148642192019-03-28T21:21:00.001-07:002019-03-28T21:21:52.275-07:00Dogwood Sanctuary
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land." -- Song of Solomon 2:12</span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNSooRxMSPGP2ECIeT1rYAVpAkYYGxZxREfQTu98O8qTWP2Yqv1_TwVZ1V-BJm7zJlC5cp37Qwc9WRrcqF1TkbYrAESVRrBDBOJoPsDrdIKhKq8HOiue4CtIthGOtRQO-gMF2pk5BX9Dc/s1600/Dogwood+edit+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1600" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNSooRxMSPGP2ECIeT1rYAVpAkYYGxZxREfQTu98O8qTWP2Yqv1_TwVZ1V-BJm7zJlC5cp37Qwc9WRrcqF1TkbYrAESVRrBDBOJoPsDrdIKhKq8HOiue4CtIthGOtRQO-gMF2pk5BX9Dc/s400/Dogwood+edit+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">In January delicate clusters of bright pink
blossoms appeared on my neighborhood’s redbud trees. In February, Japanese
magnolias offered their sleek, lavender tulip-shaped blooms. Then March enticed
the dogwood, my favorite blooming tree, to share its creamy cross-shaped
blossoms with their distinct rust “stains” on their tips and their “crown of
thorns” in their centers. The trees’ shallow roots make them easy prey to
hurricanes here in my adopted hometown, so few have survived and not too many
folks choose to plant them. But in Birmingham, where I grew up, the tree adorned
nearly everybody’s yards. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">One dogwood in particular, though, holds a
special place in my heart. It grew in our front yard beside a lovely ornamental
peach tree that bloomed at the same time as the dogwood each spring, its tiny pale
pink flowers a beautiful contrast to the dogwood’s larger white ones. When I was
about eight, every afternoon I would expertly shimmy up the lone dogwood. Its
angled trunk led to a bough that resembled an open hand with the fingers cupped
upward. It made the perfect seat for me and over the years, I spent hours
perched there, half-hidden behind my fragrant curtain of white flowers. It was
as if God had designed the hiding place just for me and with a glorious blue
sky as its backdrop and the pretty peach tree as its neighbor, the dogwood made
an ideal sanctuary. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Often, I would go there to spend time with
God, but sometimes I would simply watch the clouds go by with birdsong as my
anthem. When I was ten, we moved across town and I was sad to leave behind my
favorite tree. I was thrilled to learn there were about a half-dozen dogwoods
in the yard at our new house. While none were suitable for climbing, each
spring their showy profusion of blossoms reminded me of God’s faithfulness. His
goodness, kindness and generosity. And the many hours I had spent enjoying
fellowship with Him in my dogwood sanctuary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-25595845154763595672019-01-22T11:26:00.000-08:002019-01-22T11:26:05.446-08:00Lord, I Need You
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">“Without you, I fall apart. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">You’re the One that guides my heart. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Lord, I need You, Oh, I need You,</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Every hour I need You.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">My one defense, my righteousness,</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Oh, God, how I need You.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">--“Lord, I Need You” by Matt Maher</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">This morning every time I stopped to look at
the clock, I felt sick, so I decided to write instead. Then before I could finish this post,
I just got the phone call I needed: my friend’s husband called to say her surgery went well and she was in
recovery. Sadly, though, the surgery was a foot amputation. We found out two
weeks ago today that she’d have to have this surgery. We just didn’t know when.
Until yesterday afternoon when the doctor told her it would be this morning.
Somehow that just didn’t seem long enough to come to terms with something this
monumental.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">As I tried to support my friend over <span style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">the last two weeks, I spent more
time in deep prayer and scripture meditation than I had in a while. Pain and
suffering will take you there. The needs of someone you love deeply will drive
you to your knees, seeking God’s grace and mercy. I didn’t want her to have to
endure one more surgery, one more loss, so I begged God for a miracle. But He
didn’t provide one in the way I intended. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">I wanted Him to save her foot and leg.
Instead, He filled her so full of His spirit and strength, I could hear it and feel
it, even from 200 miles away, when we talked on the phone. Despite some moments
of fear and grief, my friend had such a positive outlook. There was no hint of
bitterness or self-pity. Instead, she simply exuded the peace of God, the peace
that passes all understanding. Walking through this ordeal with my sweet friend,
I’ve been reminded that not only do I need the Lord every day, but I need Him
every hour of every day. And when challenges threaten to overwhelm me, like
Matt Maher, I can say that “when I cannot stand, I’ll fall on You, Jesus You’re
my hope and stay.”</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-52486506316748650182018-12-23T20:52:00.000-08:002018-12-23T20:54:09.467-08:00A Season of Joy<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
“Joy to the World, the Lord is come!</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Let earth receive her King!</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Let every heart prepare Him room</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
And heaven and nature sing,</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
And heaven and nature sing.”</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">--“Joy to the World,” Isaac Watts</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I remember the year Santa brought me a Scottish Cabbage
Patch Kid doll. And the year I got my very own roller skates. And the year Mom
and Dad gave me a French racing bike they had spent months refurbishing. Of
course, I no longer own any of those items, but I remember how happy I was the
Christmas mornings I found them by the tree. But like all material possessions,
even my favorite things could only bring me temporary contentment and pleasure.
Mom taught me and my sister that lesson many years ago when she made the distinction
between happiness and joy. She told us happiness is temporary and based on our
feelings, but joy is eternal and springs from God’s spirit and His promises.</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Every Christmas I feel that deep joy when I read Luke’s
account of the angel messengers who jubilantly declared the news of Jesus’ birth
2,000 years ago.<br />
<br />
“Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in
the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of
the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and
they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid, for
behold, I bring you good tidings of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">great
joy</b> which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the
city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.’ ” (Luke 2: 8-11, emphasis mine).<br />
<br />
For thousands of years Israel had waited for God to send a deliverer to their
nation. But instead, due to His expansive and inclusive vision, God sent a
Savior for not only Israel, but the entire world. There can be no greater “good
tidings” at Christmas <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>than the message
that God loves each of us so much He became Emmanuel, “God with us,” and entered
our world so that ultimately through His sacrifice, we can enter His. </div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-45489963085270447012018-12-16T20:28:00.000-08:002018-12-16T20:28:24.354-08:00A Season of Wonder<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">A year ago we had an unexpected snow shower. All
day I had waited, watching the sky and the weather reports, hoping we’d get an
early Christmas gift. And that night when the big fat flakes kept falling and
falling, I ran around outside like a child. I grinned and giggled for hours.
But my delight in nature doesn’t stop with remarkable winter weather events. In
fact, sunsets and rainbows still captivate me. Butterflies, birds, and flowers
all charm me. I’m also a real sucker for Christmas lights, and the more, the
better. To a casual observer, it may seem as though I’ve never grown up. Maybe
I haven’t. For to me, an integral part of faith is responding to God’s creation,
His majesty, and ultimately His sacrificial love, with the awe and wonder of a
child. </span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">The 18<sup>th</sup> chapter of Matthew’s
gospel records an incident that reveals how Jesus feels about adults having
childlike qualities. “At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who,
then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child to
him, and placed the child among them. And he said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless
you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of
heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the
greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my
name welcomes me.’” (verses 1-5) Jesus said those who wish to live with Him
must retain the purity of heart, openness of mind, and simplicity of faith
epitomized by children. Perhaps that’s why so many Christmas songs—“Away in a
Manger,” “What Child Is This?”, “Silent Night”—all focus on the baby Jesus who,
though in all ways God, chose to come to us and show us how to live and how to
love. With childlike faith.</span></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="color: #20124d;"></span><span style="color: #073763;"></span><span style="color: #0b5394;"></span><span style="color: cyan;"></span><span style="color: #134f5c;"></span>Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-970280246199993800.post-67140996550698552252018-12-09T20:11:00.001-08:002018-12-09T20:12:00.249-08:00A Season of Light<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">“We
are waiting on the promise</span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">For
the One who lights the darkness</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Bending
low to be among us</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Bring
Your glory in the highest, Jesus”</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">-“Hope
for Everyone” Matt Maher</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">At
the time, traveling over 1,100 feet straight down under a mountain seemed like
a good idea. Then I realized the only way out was the one ancient elevator that
had just deposited me into a dark maze. As I glanced around the dim, stifling
cavern, I felt a little panic bubble up into my chest. Since I’d already paid
for this torture, though, I continued to follow my friend, our tour group, and
the guide who had the only flashlight among us. As we wound through the
caverns, our end goal was Ruby Falls, a beautiful 145-foot underground
waterfall. To heighten the drama though before we actually rounded a corner to
view the magnificent falls, the guides turned out all the lights. I’m not sure
I have ever felt such oppressive darkness. It seemed as if I could feel the
weight of every ounce of the tons of earth above me pressing down on my body.
And the few seconds before they turned on the multicolored spotlights felt like
an eternity. I might have oohed and aahed at the big reveal. I can’t remember.
What I can remember is wanting to kiss the ground when I finally made it to the
surface and back out into the sunlight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Scripture
talks about people who walk in darkness that is far more oppressive than what
you can find in an underground cavern. It is a spiritual darkness that
separates people from God and one another. But the prophet Isaiah proclaimed
there would be a cure, that “[t]he people walking in darkness have seen a great
light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” (9:2)
This Light dawned 2,000 years ago when Jesus was born in a stable in Bethlehem,
an event marked by angel choirs and a mysterious star. In his gospel Matthew
tells us, “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King
Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who
has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to
worship him.” (2:1-2) Some scholars believe the star that led the magi to Jesus
was actually the Shekinah Glory, a manifestation of God’s presence like the one
He used to guide Israel in the wilderness. Regardless of the true nature of the
Christmas star, God used the unique celestial sign to underscore the fact that
Jesus is indeed the “Light of the world.”<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>(John 8:12)</span></div>
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Christie Lovvornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17058591171581883308noreply@blogger.com0