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There is a childhood hymn we all know that says, “Jesus loves me, this I know.” From our earliest memories, we were told that Jesus loves us. Yet we cannot really take that truth inside of us any better than we could as small children.

Jesus loves us. God loves us . . . enough to send his own son into our cruel world as a helpless infant. It simply makes no sense to us. It’s beyond imaginable. I love to contemplate the words of Kayla McClurg.

Imagine it: there is a God of all creation who wants to love us, who wants us to love ourselves by caring for one another. It is a simple path, but many of us prefer complication. We seek validation by striving after rigorous standards of perfection, or by positioning ourselves to defend against and obliterate all perceived threats to our well-being. We have not yet let ourselves go down into the boundless depths of God’s love for us. To more fully fathom our belovedness would mean to trust the hands that hold us, to lean back and discover our roots in a source of wellness beyond our own. So much pleasure awaits—as we make generous responses to greed, speak loving words to hate, generate peace. How relaxed and confident we can be as the stress and strain of life wash away.

By: Kayla McClurg
Season and Scripture: Epiphany Year

Life would be so different if only I could truly experience God’s amazing love and all that it means. I want to share with you the words of a wonderfully inspiring hymn and then a YouTube video of a very gifted pianist.

And can it be that I should gain
An interest in the Savior’s blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

He left His Father’s throne above,
So free, so infinite His grace;
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam’s helpless race:
’Tis mercy all, immense and free;
For, O my God, it found out me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay
Fast bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness Divine,
Bold I approach the eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Please enjoy “And Can It Be” on YouTube:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PtmZcuPCXo4

I hate feeling afraid. At one time in my life not too many years ago, I found myself in a situation of great fear about the future, wondering if I was strong enough to get through the crisis I was in. A friend challenged me to remember that “the mighty oak was once a little nut that stood its ground.” I found comfort in that thought.

James Allen says “the oak sleeps in the acorn.”

These small snippets of acorn wisdom are so true, and especially meaningful when we’re feeling small. There is more to an acorn than we can see with our eyes. It’s hope. It’s miracle. It’s nature’s unimaginable ability to stay alive and to grow.

There have been so many times in life when I have felt kinship with the tiniest acorn, on its own in a vast forest, feeling small, weak, insignificant, afraid . . . thinking how very improbable it would be to eventually have the strength of a deeply rooted oak,

An interesting bit of trivia is that the roots of an oak tree can extend down into the ground up to two and one-half times their height. So all of this offers us two useful metaphors: the possibility and the hope that lies inside of an acorn, and the secure longevity of a deeply rooted oak tree.

Pictured in the blog today is a majestic 1,500 year old South Carolina oak tree . It reminds me of strength and resiliency. It reminds me that, even when our journey is rough, we can survive with the strength and resiliency that is within us.

Recently, someone shared with me that she felt she would be uprooted and blown away by the gale-force winds of change in her life. I felt deeply concerned for her, but at the same time, I felt the hope that comes from knowing that each of us has astounding strength and resiliency.

Yes, the mighty winds may blow all about us, but we stand — mightier still — and unafraid. The acorn takes root. The roots push deeply into the earth. Strength increases and we stand tall against the wind.

It often seems that there is not much joy in our world. In these dismal days, we are longing for a liberator, one who can bring peace in a warring world. Our search is failing. Our leaders, for the most part, are not liberators or makers of peace. People all over the world are immersed in conflict. The world’s children know violence and war. We are left languishing in a world where chaos seems to reign. Peace is elusive. And so we dream of better days.

We ask if peace is even possible, while we flounder in hopelessness. Yet, there is hope. There is always hope. Jürgen Moltmann reminds us that our dream does not die, that peace is possible.

The dream of a liberator, and the dream of peace, is not merely a dream. The liberator is already present and his power is already among us. We can follow him, even today making visible something of the peace, liberty and righteousness of the kingdom that he will complete. It is no longer impossible.

So let us all dream a dream of peace and trust in the power of our liberator. Let us rest in the words of the Psalmist and let us “break forth and sing for joy.”

O sing to the Lord a new song,
For He has done wonderful things,
His right hand and His holy arm have gained the victory for Him.
The Lord has made known His salvation;
He has revealed His righteousness in the sight of the nations.
He has remembered His lovingkindness and His faithfulness to the house of Israel;
All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.
Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth;
Break forth and sing for joy and sing praises.
Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre,
With the lyre and the sound of melody.
With trumpets and the sound of the horn
Shout joyfully before the King, the Lord.
Let the sea roar and all it contains,
The world and those who dwell in it.
Let the rivers clap their hands,
Let the mountains sing together for joy
Before the Lord, for He is coming to judge the earth;
He will judge the world with righteousness
And the peoples with equity.

– Psalm 98 NASB

I want to live my life with a sense of wonder. The greatest punishment in life is living a mundane existence, without the wonderment we are meant to experience. The truth is that wonderment is all around us, waiting for us to notice. W.B. Yeats expresses that thought like this:

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

So I ask myself, where are the magic things?

Perhaps there’s a little touch of magic in the birds feeding outside my kitchen window. Perhaps there’s magic in the sunset I missed seeing this morning. Or in the sunset sky that paints the horizon pink. Perhaps there’s magic in my daily interactions with my husband.

I mostly miss all the magic by immersing myself in the mundane. I miss the wonderment of hearing music, reading poetry, enjoying art.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe says, “worldly cares . . . tend to obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”

I’m searching for the wonderment. I’ll write it on my heart so I won’t forget to look for it. I’ll find it all around me. And I’ll find it resting quietly in my spirit waiting to be awakened.

I received a sparkling gift today, a star word, given to me by a ministry colleague and a stranger, Rev. Marci Auld Glass. I do not know how she chose that word. I do know that she has no idea how much that word means to me at this particular time in my life. The word she gave me is “longing.”

Here is how my star word came to be. The Reverend Marci Auld Glass shared this on her blog: “In worship on Epiphany, the day the church remembers the star that led the magi to Jesus, we passed out pieces of paper that had been cut into nice star shapes. On each star was printed a word. I invited the congregation members to take a star and consider how God might be speaking to them this year through the word printed on their star.”

Then she offered a star word to her colleagues in ministry, and I asked to be given a word.

So what do I contemplate as I peek inside the word “longing?” There is the longing to continue my call to ministry while being retired and ill. There is the longing to know when and if I will receive the kidney transplant I need. There is the longing to be nearer to my grandchildren after moving to Georgia from Arkansas, my home of thirty three years. There is the longing to redefine myself in light of so many life changes and challenges.

And there is the longing to transcend all of that and to draw closer to God. I’m not sure how to make that happen, but I have a notion that it has something to do with abiding near the still waters of prayer, creating holy moments near to God, gazing long and hard into the light of Epiphany’s star, holding tightly to the grace that leads through my sacred life journey.

That is my deepest longing.

Today is Epiphany, the 12th day after Christmas, which celebrates the visit of the three kings or wise men to the Christ Child, signifying the extension of salvation to the Gentiles.

Epiphany is also a noun meaning “a sudden revelation.” It can be a spiritual revelation or a more common revelation, a “Eureka!” moment that overtakes you when you discover something profound, something that shows you something you have never seen before

For me, an epiphany is a divine realization that breaks in on the most mundane place in life and leaves me renewed and open to brilliant, sparkling possibilities. I long for Epiphany experiences because they have the power to move in my heart, change my path, or take me to better times.

I hope for you, as I hope for myself, many soul-stirring Epiphanies.

I heard a familiar song recently on a Microsoft television commercial of all places. It stirred my heart, and at the same time, made me sad. I’m sure you know it:

Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.
With God our Creator
Family all are we.
Let us walk with each other
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.
With every step I take
Let this be my solemn vow.
To take each moment
And live each moment
With peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth,
And let it begin with me.

Of all things in life we might pray for and hope for, peace on earth seems the most elusive. When I contemplate a description of our world in these days of turmoil, I cannot help but recall the words of the hymn, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” This is the most poignant stanza:

Then, in despair, I bowed my head. “There is no peace on earth,” I said. “For hate is strong and mocks the song of ‘Peace on earth, good will toward men.'”

May we find a way to truly make peace in our world, and let us make this our prayer, “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”

Thomas Moore (1779-1852) wrote the words of the poignant hymn, Come, Ye Disconsolate,” giving us one of the most heartfelt hymns ever written. It is a great comfort to lean on the words, “Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.” There have been times of sorrow when I have leaned on those words, knowing that I could bring my wounded heart to the “mercy seat,” and tell of my anguish, with complete confidence that God was near me.

The hymn is filled with melancholy using the words “disconsolate,” “languish,” “wounded,” and “anguish.” But the final line offers hope: ‘earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.’”

2 Corinthians 1 provides a biblical foundation for the hymn:

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ. (Verses 3-5, KJV).

The words of this hymn bring great comfort in times of anguish and woundedness. For those of us who have languished while in the center of great sorrow, this hymn can be invited into our hearts where healing can begin.

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot cure.”

Here see the bread of life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heav’n can remove.

I invite you to hear this hymn on YouTube at this link:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mNqzhfB4y1I&autoplay=1

When my mother was very ill, I gave her a book entitled, “Grace Grows Best in Winter.” I was intrigued by the title and did a bit of research to find the original writing of those words. I discovered that in his letters, Samuel Rutherford expresses the thought, “I see that grace groweth best in winter.”

For some people, wintertime is symbolic of a time of slowing down, dormancy, a kind of human hibernation. Fields lie fallow, resting . . .waiting for the time of planting, growing, and harvest. Animals wait and look for signs of spring so that they can begin to build nests and new homes, and do all the things animals do in the spring. People stay indoors, trying to stay warm, and wait for warmer days.

Some people experience a kind of winter sadness which is very real, real enough to have been named Seasonal Affective Disorder. Other people describe periods of pain and suffering as the winter of life.

Grass and flowers and plants and trees do not grow much in winter. Many tender plants cannot grow at all in winter. There are flowers that would not even survive the cold of winter. And yet, according to Samuel Rutherford, grace grows best in winter.

Perhaps what he had in mind is the comforting thought that even in life’s wintertimes, one may find the gift of grace that can sustain until spring. It’s the kind of grace, I think, that God gives us when the days are long and dreary, when we think the sun might never shine again.

Every winter has birthed a spring, a season where we will see signs of life all around. The days will become longer and the sun will shine a bit warmer. The trees will come back to life and flowers will begin to bud and blossom. God’s spring promises will be evident in every corner of creation.

And yet, in my life or yours, it may feel as cold and gloomy as any winter could be. Certainly, there are life circumstances that make us feel that winter will never be over for us. In the corridors and waiting rooms and family rooms and patient rooms of our hospitals, there are signs everyday that winter won’t pass. Persons who have lost loved ones find themselves in a winter of life that may seem endless. Families experiencing violence often believe that the winter won’t pass. Children living in abusive homes begin to believe the words in The Chronicles of Narnia, “It’s always winter and never Christmas.

Victims of recent gun violence, racism and terrorism probably feel as if the harsh cold of winter will never pass. And certainly, we all feel the angst that is prevailing over us in these days. Every time a terrorist act is committed, every time an innocent child dies from gun violence, every time a mosque is burned, we know that we live in perilous times.

All around, there is pain and sorrow and disappointment and anxiety. But there are also tiny signs that grace really does grow best in winter . . . that God still comes to comfort and console us on the coldest winter days . . . that friends still give the grace-gifts of love and caring . . . that families still stick close together and offer the grace of being near when the days are cold and dark.

Grace probably does grow best in winter, because that’s when we need it the most.

There’s a tiny passage of scripture nestled in the pages of the Bible, almost hidden in the unusual writing of the Old Testament book called Song of Songs. It’s a wonderful promise that’s good to hang on to when winter seems endless.

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come.

If today seems to you like a wintertime of life, if it seems that spring might never come again, if you definitely don’t feel like singing . . . may this promise become real for you and may your season of singing come again.

What do you say or do while standing at the beginning of a brand new year? What eloquent words might describe the emotions of new beginnings, of starting over with all things new? Beyond making a list of common resolutions, how do you start the pathway toward a new year of life? How can you make 2016 the year of your transformation?

For me, beginning a new year feels like starting a new journey. You have no idea what lies ahead, but the excitement of a new journey is exhilarating and a bit frightening, all at once. I especially like the expression from the following quote.

No part of the journey is wasted. Once you recognize within yourself a hunger for something more than just continuing, once you taste even the possibility of touching the meaning enfolded in your life, you can never be completely content with just going through the motions . . . The wisdom touched in moments of real intimacy penetrates the soul with knowledge of who and what we are. It transforms us.

~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Life’s journey is about experiencing moments of intimacy that penetrate my soul with the knowledge of who I truly am. And that is my hope for 2016, that I will welcome my transformation each day in new ways, that I will get in touch with the meaning that’s hidden in my life. It will take some introspection and meditation, some tranquility and some serenity. But it will be a worthwhile goal for this sparkling new year.

God of past and present time, God of the year to come,

Hear our prayer as we come to the end of the past year and stand on the cusp of the new one.

Forgive the sins and omissions of the past, and grant us fresh hope for new beginnings.

Caress the hurts of the past, and grant us a future without harm.

Help us to make peace with the past, and grant us true peace in the year ahead.

Repair the brokenness of the year past, and grant us wholeness and fullness in the year to come.

Refresh the weariness that the year gone by has brought us, and renew our spirits in the new year.

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come.
Be thou our guard while life shall last and our eternal home.

Amen

(“O, God, Our Help in Ages Past” by Isaac Watts)

I find this expression by Ken Sehested to be so full of wisdom that I am compelled to share it with you in my Blog.

Take my life and let it be / consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
In all seasons, in every shape and condition of our lives,
transform our minds and hearts in ways that magnify the rule of Mercy:

In ways that conform to Your extravagant and redemptive purposes;
in our hopes and promises, in our joys and our sorrows,
whether rising or resting, at home or away,
at work and at play, with those near and dear but also with strangers,
in our longing and our learning to love enemies.

In an age ruled by terror—both by state and by sect—place on our lips
the subversive claim of the Resurrection.
As the vanguard of your coming Commonwealth,
give us the courage to live at odds with the rage of this age.

Inspire in us a thirst for beauty and for truth.
Instill in us the wisdom to track the signs of your Spirit moving
in odd ways and in unbeknown places.
Incite in us the compassion for those neglected parts
of your creation—soul and soil alike—
in our neighborhoods, in our nation, in the whole wide world.

Bless these resolutions, these promises,
made today in response to your beckoning,
and make us ever more faithful, day by passing day. Amen.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org.

I am the new year. I am an unspoiled page in your book of time.

I am your next chance at the art of living. I am your opportunity to practice what you have learned about life during the last twelve months.

All that you sought and didn’t find is hidden in me, waiting for you to search it but with more determination.

All the good that you tried for and didn’t achieve is mine to grant when you have fewer conflicting desires.

All that you dreamed but didn’t dare to do, all that you hoped but did not will, all the faith that you claimed but did not have—these slumber lightly, waiting to be awakened by the touch of a strong purpose.

I am your opportunity to renew your allegiance to Him who said, “Behold, I make all things new.”

– From Bible Illustrator

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.”

• Romans 12:12 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

Approaching a new year often brings to mind a boatload of resolutions. For me, they usually turn out to be broken promises to myself. And that’s not a good way to start a fresh new year. I could resolve to read more, or to exercise more, or to eat healthier. But reality tells me I won’t do all of that.

There is one resolution I would very much like to make, and I discovered It in the 12th chapter of Romans. I truly believe it’s the key to a brighter year.

So my New Year’s resolution for 2016 is this:

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.”

I believe it will sustain me well, whatever 2016 brings my way.

I recently read a quote that makes a lot of sense: “Pick your battles carefully. It’s sometimes better to have peace than to win.”

It would be a good lesson to learn, at least for me. I have often dug in my heels in a disagreement, determined to have the last word. I have, in the past, stubbornly faced off with other people, because I knew I was right. The truth is that I may well have been right, but perhaps the confrontation did not merit a full-on battle.

Giving in when you are in the middle of a disagreement is sometimes the best way to get to a place of peace. And yes, sometimes it really is better to have peace than to win. The older I get, the more important it is to have peace. So I plan to lose some of the small battles I face. I plan to face off on issues that truly matter. I plan to pick carefully the battles I am compelled to fight. It makes good sense.

Following the glories of Christmastime, we again come face to face with the reality of a world in turmoil. The following paraphrased quotation by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaks of a world we can only imagine, a world in which unarmed truth and unconditional love have the final word.

“I refuse to accept the view that humankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and community can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”

Why are we so far away from this kind of world? Why are we still bound to “the starless midnight of racism and war?” What can we do to bring about the daybreak of peace?

Somehow, we must do what we can to end the rhetoric of hate that we hear from our leaders and potential leaders. How long has it been since our candidates for political office promised a daybreak of peace, a brighter world, a united community where neighbor cared for neighbor?

Instead we hear of the ways we will bomb our enemies. We hear words that call for even more racism and war. We long for a positive candidate for office, a candidate that is intent upon reaching for truth, peace, hope and unconditional love.

To be sure, there are harsh realities that may well require us to be at war in various ways. But isn’t it possible to proclaim a message that inspires us to good instead of a message that employs a rhetoric of hate?

We need a candidate that inspires us to become our higher selves. If we can find that candidate, we will embrace her/his spirit of all that is good among us. If such a leader emerges, we will follow her/him in rebuilding our shattered world.

May God grant us such a leader, and soon. And may God ennoble us to follow the one that inspires us to reach with all our might toward a bright daybreak of peace.

Today, we are experiencing the eve of Christmas! Traditionally, it is for us a quiet day. And it is a silent night of waiting.

There is no day like this one in all the year. When night falls, Christmas Eve breaks the silence and sings to us of God’s love and grace. It sings to us of the Prince of Peace that comes to us anew each Christmas. It shines a glorious light that brightens the darkest corners of the world. The next morning, a holy celebration descends upon us, for the Holy Child has been born. The Dayspring from on high has visited us.

I pray that your celebration is a sacred one, remembering the silence of waiting, the brilliance of Bethlehem’s star, the singing of angels, the joy-filled expression of young Mary, the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes in a manger.

May Christmas bring you joy, hope, peace and love.