When my oldest son, Ben, was a toddler, he had a book of nursery rhymes and songs. The pictures were beautiful and he became so fascinated with them that he insisted on hearing a string of them before he went to sleep at night. I could not believe how many I had to avoid or alter the wording for because of their dark themes. Who thought reading this to a small child was a good idea?

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children, she didn't know what to do;

She gave them some broth without any bread;

Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

I recently came across an article from the Harvard Business Review on the art of asking questions. It identified the benefits of obtaining information for proper decision-making. After all, asking the right questions can help us solve problems and reach better conclusions.

But other reasons abound on the benefits of asking good questions. A good mentor or teacher knows how to ask questions in a way that will help their students discover for themselves some important reality. Over the past months I have explored many of Jesus’ questions. He was the Master of this art. He asked questions in a way that the listeners could reach their own conclusions about who He was, and why they needed Him.

I have become a salt snob. I am no longer satisfied with mere table salt. Several years ago I was introduced to different kinds of salt: Himalayan pink, Himalayan black, Fleur de Sel, Sea salt, Kosher, and Celtic to name a few. While all salt is made up of two elements, sodium and chlorine, by doing a little research, I have come to learn that impurities, including trace minerals can shape the color, taste, and texture of salt. But regardless of these differences, essentially all salt is still salt.

If you have ever talked with me over the phone, you have likely experienced some frustration. You may have heard dishes clanging in the background, my phone drop as I attempt to carry it and a laundry basket, or perhaps heavy breathing as I exercise and talk with you. I have been asked, “how can I be truly listening, if I am doing other things?” But I have become aware that I actually listen better when I am engaged in a physical activity at the same time. I have a very difficult time simply to sit and converse when on the phone. Just yesterday I had my phone on speaker mode, listening to a dear friend while also standing on the kitchen counter changing a light bulb. But I could tell you every last word she said.

I have been posting my blog weekly since last June. Last week was the first I have missed since then. I acknowledge that missing my commitment is not the best way to start the New Year. Excuse? I have tons: a broken furnace, frozen pipes in my kitchen and laundry room, a blown electrical fuse which cut off my internet, to name a few. Last week was a revolving door of service technicians! But this is a new week. So I decided before I finally take down the Christmas tree (don’t judge), I will dig into God’s Word.

A few weeks ago I was shopping at Walmart for a family my friends and I had “adopted” for Christmas. My cart was full and the cashier was about half-way through check-out when I told him that I would need a gift receipt. He looked up and said that I should have told him that before he started. Now he would have to void everything and start again. I looked behind me at the line that had formed. Oh no, I was that person!

I miss my father. He passed over a year ago, and I think of him often. He was not a perfect father (what father is?), but I know he loved me greatly, and I loved him. I miss his bear hugs. I miss how he called me “Cara-belly,” and my sister “Lolly Pop”—long after we were adults with our own children. Even though we didn’t always agree, I would so cherish the opportunity to have one more moment with him!

Isaiah declares that a Child is born—one who would become a great man, a prophet, a wise teacher. But wait— Isaiah also stated 600 years before the Child was born, that His Name shall be called, Mighty God.

God.

When we place the Baby in the nativity scene do we see God?

For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
    and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the increase of his government and of peace
    there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
    to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
    from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.  Isaiah 9:6-7

In the midst of darkness and impending judgment for the nation’s disobedience, Isaiah offered God’s promise of hope—a Messiah would be given to us who would establish His Kingdom.  But the descriptive phrases are more than the familiar lyrics from Handel’s Messiah or words we read on a Christmas card.

As I age, remembering has become an issue. Actually, remembering has always been an issue for me. Several times I have forgotten to turn off my car and take the keys with me, before exiting and locking myself out. Once the car ran for three hours at the mall before I returned to discover what I had done. More than a few times, I have wished I didn’t disconnect my landline, because it would have been handy to help me locate my cell phone.

As we are approaching Thanksgiving I started to reflect on those individuals in Scripture who expressed thanksgiving to God. They demonstrate many wonderful reasons to praise Him. Hannah prayed for a son, and exalted God when He honored her request (1 Samuel 2). David thanked God in the Psalms for his success in battles. Mary sang in thanksgiving that God had chosen her among women to give birth to the Messiah. Paul was thankful to God for the church in Philippi who supported his work in spreading the Gospel. But the individual that drew my attention the most was the single leper of ten, who, after he was healed, returned to Jesus to praise and thank Him.

Chapter 4 of James warns us against worldliness. James is not telling us not to love the people of this world (“For God so loved the world…”) Nor is he telling us that we should not enjoy the pleasures of this earth that God has graciously provided. Rather, James is warning us about choosing to put the things of this world over our devotion to Him. We can only have one Lord.  How do we do this without living in a bubble? I have found some help and valuable lessons from one of my favorite children’s books, The Velveteen Rabbit (written in 1922 by Margery Williams).

I encourage you to read James 3 this week. (I have posted it below.) As with all of James, his teaching is straightforward, warning us about the power of the tongue in a clear and sobering way. We have probably all experienced the truth of his warnings by being the victim of hurtful or gossiping words. I still remember overhearing gossip about me while I was a student at law school over 30 years ago! And if we are honest with ourselves, we have also experienced the pain and conviction of knowing our own words have caused great hurt to others. Regretfully, I have said so many things that moments later I have wished I could take back. I remember reading long ago that every one of us is carrying around a concealed weapon— our tongue. All we have to do is open our mouths and it is unconcealed, ready to unleash harm. 

What is the point of faith if it is dead? How can I be assured that I have a living and active faith?

The Epistle of James continues to challenge me. Here James warns fellow followers of Christ about showing partiality. Partiality rears its head when we make judgments about individuals and show preferences based on those judgments. While James gives the example of preferring those based on material wealth, the warning is equally applicable regarding race, gender or age. My immediate reaction was, “Whew! I’m off the hook this week—I don’t do that!” After all, I am appalled when I see anyone hurt by racism or discrimination. It deeply grieves me.

But, is showing partiality not just about what we feel about others, but what we fail to do?

Wherever she has lived, my daughter has always placed a mirror right next to her front door. She calls it her “last chance mirror.” It gives her one last chance to assess herself before she goes out into the world. Rather than take a moment to admire what she sees, Ricki looks to see what she might need to fix.  Is there lipstick on her teeth? Breakfast on her cheek? There is no point to look at the mirror, or even have the mirror if she then just walks out the door without following up with the appropriate adjustments.

Really?  Is it possible to “consider it pure joy” when we face trials? Admittedly, this may not be the first thing you tell someone who is in a hard place. As I wrote last week, before Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, He wept, demonstrating His compassion for those hurting. But nonetheless, this is a Truth for followers of Christ. By the power of God’s Spirit we can consider any trial we face as joy. But the key to understanding how this is possible is in understanding the word, “consider.”

My brain is a bit tired this week. I have had numerous opportunities to teach and share my testimony recently, and truthfully, I was at a loss for what to write on this week. A dear friend suggested that I should just write my favorite verse and say that even I run out of words sometimes! So here it is, but it does need some explanation. (Apparently I always have words.)

The Psalmist declared, “Open my eyes, that I may see wonderful things from Your law.” Psalm 118:19

Who doesn’t want to see wonderful things?

My mother-in-law Diane, a dear Christian mentor and friend, surprised me when she expressed her uncertainty about whether she had “done enough” in the last months of her husband’s life as he suffered from bone cancer. Managing his pain was often difficult, but I witnessed Diane not only pray for him, but research every medical possibility for pain management as well as for healing. Rarely did she leave his side, spending countless days and nights in hospitals. To me, she gave new meaning to “until death do us part.”  How could Diane wonder if she had done enough? Yet at times, haven’t we all pondered this same question?