My heart soars when I watch a certain young man joyfully assist the worship minister rehearse with the choir before entering the sanctuary. His body bends over his crutches, yet he stands as if his posture was perfectly straight. His face reflects the joy and love of Christ with an unguarded smile. His eyes look to Heaven as he sings. Christ’s radiance on his face inspires me every time I see him. This man is famous to Jesus. Jesus is famous to this man.
At the moment of realization that I had left my wallet in a busy interstate highway gas station two hours earlier, my heart began racing while my brain began rehearsing the rapid steps of what to do next. Call the bank card company. Call the credit card company. Call the station where I left it. Tomorrow, go to the driver’s license office to reorder my license.
Have you ever listed the women who have most influenced your life? Luke’s list makes me wonder why Mary, Joanna, Susanna and the many others who served Jesus during his life were notable in first century AD. Surely these women suffered. I’m not sure if I could have endured an exorcism administered over Mary to cast out seven demons. Who would have the stamina to serve and live in the household of Herod?
The depth of the love story in Hosea certainly caught me by surprise when my girlfriends and I studied it in the fall. Prophecy has a way of sneaking up on you like that.
It is finally dawning on me that God’s love is beyond definition: “For I am God and not a man—the Holy One among you” (11:9).
Way back in Hosea 2:14-15 God hinted at His tenderness, at the renewal of Israel’s blessings and their hope, at the restoration of His intended relationship with them. “In that day” (2:16) He will be like the dew to Israel, refreshing its roots and its blossoms, its splendor and its fragrance. His covenant love will kick into gear; He can’t go back on His promises.
Unfortunately the lessons of the thornbushes can be many and exceedingly prickly if you wander your own way, as the nation of Israel persisted in doing. Sin became our downfall way back in the garden.
Well, Hosea did as God told him to and married Gomer. She conceived and bore him a son, a daughter, and another son (1:3). Then things went awry. Gomer became restless, in spite of the love of Hosea: “I will go after my lovers, who give me my food and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink” (2:5). She had totally forgotten who had rescued her, protected her, loved her, and supplied all her needs.
Ah, January—fun fact: “January was named for the Roman god Janus, known as the protector of gates and doorways which symbolize beginnings and endings. Janus is depicted with two faces, one looking into the past, the other with the ability to see into the future” (almanac.com). Time to put on our two faces of Janus this week and dig into the book of Hosea to build some godly wisdom for 2024.
A very wise man once referred to a young couple as “pillar people.” They had fostered five siblings for an extended time and had grieved deeply when the time ended. The wise man encouraged them to see themselves as a stable pillar God had placed within the lives of these children. The siblings would forever look back at that time of stability as a frame of reference.
The withered little plant appeared dead, but I smiled and accepted the gift in faith. A friend assured me that it only needed planting and watering. Even though my faith floundered, my friendship did not. So, I dutifully complied.
The tiny pond needed fish and could provide the perfect habitat for Koi, those large multi-colored goldfish. Feeding them would provide such fun for the grandkids. The adventure began with four Koi fingerlings.
Downsizing required sorting multiple boxes of yellowed childhood treasures. The task felt daunting. One item, though, made the experience worth the effort—a folded piece of manila paper with a title scribed by a child. “Prays and Verses.”
My youthful father transformed rugged acreage into a small working ranch. The five springs on the property helped him envision the land’s potential.
On my morning walk, I passed a neighbor walking the opposite direction. I greeted her and asked how she was doing. She paused and replied, “I’m making it.” I understood her response. Her life has become complicated because of her mother’s failing health.
My friend told me the story about her early Christmas present. Her mother bought a new car for her and her husband. At first I was struck by the generosity of this mother, but the rest of the story intrigued me more.
She finished reading the book and declared, “It was a journey I didn’t like being on.” Using that statement to describe a book is no big deal. But for many of us, that statement describes a complicated life situation that we can do nothing about. Many of us are on journeys we don’t like.
A few years ago, we had a most unusual Christmas day lunch. It was the “in-law Christmas,” and so, our girls and their families were coming the day after Christmas. I had been busy preparing food for the week and just didn’t have the energy to prepare another meal for Christmas day. Therefore, we went to eat at one of the few restaurants open.
I wonder what it was like to be a recently freed Israelite slave preparing to receive God’s law in the wilderness. Can you picture the scene? Camped at the base of Mount Sinai in the middle of the desert, waiting anxiously to meet your Deliverer?
When I was growing up, I was haunted by verses like John 14:21: He who has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. What is His command? To love the Lord Your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. (Matthew 22:37) These kinds of verses haunted me because deep down, I knew my obedience wasn’t fueled by love.
