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We have to expand our understanding of who God is to appreciate the tremendous gift of the Incarnation. It’s such a common thought, something we may have known our whole life: Mary was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, conceived a baby, and her Child is God in human flesh
God has ‘being’ in infinite fullness. He, alone, has being. I am drawing my existence from God. I am ontologically plugged into him for my being.
How could God become a baby?
Mary stood at the fork in her life’s road. Her response to Gabriel would set the course of the rest of her years. Her offering: “May it be to me as you have said.”
During Advent, I love to dive into the mystery of God’s coming to us. I just keep pondering, what does this mean? I love how one songwriter phrased the mystery: “veiled in flesh the Godhead see.”
If you got to choose, how would you like to live your life? Are there routines you’d like to have? Do you have guiding principles to help you keep first things first? Brother Lawrence created his Rule in the 1500s. Several years ago, I began mine.
Do you ever read a book and find information that is really insightful, and then a week or two later, you can’t remember what you read? I do this all of the time. Our journals can help!
I knew Kevin was called to be a pastor. And I fully embraced my role as the pastor’s wife. But I didn’t think I had received a call. I didn’t think volunteering was a “calling” because it was not a paid, full-time job. I guess I equated calling with a vocation—a job. I had a more general call: all people are called to love the Lord, love others, and do their part to share the gospel, disciple people, and seek to advance God’s mission in the world. But I didn’t have a special, specific call.
But what if discerning our calling is a spiritual formation conversation God invites us to have with him during the various seasons of our lives?
This morning a familiar Scripture surprised me as it spoke to my heart: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things..." (Luke 10:38) It seemed Jesus was saying to me: Luann, I know the worries and troubles you carry.
I didn't feel like I was carrying much. Yet he knew Martha's heart so I know he knows mine.
God has created us to find joy in the beauty and goodness we find all around us.
The flesh that God has worn is ragged and torn. This is the reality of Good Friday, one we contemplate during the sacrament of Communion.
At the heart of the gospel, we find that we have broken our network of relationships.
It was utterly shocking, shocking to the whole created realm. From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land (Matthew 27:45). The sun’s light was withheld for three hours in the middle of that Middle Eastern afternoon.
We all detest death. “…Death is the triumph of Satan, the punishment of the Fall, and the last enemy.”[1] Our Creator, who gives life to all, detested it more than we do.
The justice of God belongs equally to each person of the Trinity. It’s not that the Father is just and Jesus is loving and the Spirit is our comfort. The three persons of the Trinity share one divine essence.
Christ did not choose for Himself the glory of being High Priest. He suffered and became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey Him.
We need God’s mercy. I need it. You need it. As we look at the gut-wrenching heartache of the Ukrainian people, we cry for mercy.
I am seen and known, naked and exposed. I know it is true.
God keeps us as the apple of his eye, right in the center of his vision. Imagine the scene after Jesus had been taken into custody: Peter follows at a distance, sits down with people around a fire in the courtyard. His face glows in the light of the fire. A servant girl recognizes him. She leans closer, looking at him. Peter feels her stare. She makes her accusation: “This man was with him.”
“If you want to see the pear trees, we’d better drive by them today.” My husband is right. The trees are glorious in full bloom against a sunny, winter sky but their glory fades quickly. We’d better go now.
It’s so convenient to push things off until tomorrow. But some things require our attention, today.
The writer of Hebrews gets pretty pointed: Today is the day. If you hear his voice, don’t harden your heart. Open yourself. Tomorrow may be too late.
Feeling weary but unsure how to come to Jesus? Sometimes our lives hit a bump and we become lost in the swirl of uncertainty or the fog of grief. Sometimes we run ourselves ragged to the point of having absolutely nothing left to give. Feeling weary, exhausted, or like your spiritual life isn’t working the way it used to? Perhaps like me, you feel unsure about how to come to Jesus when the normal ways just don’t engage you as they have. Know that the Lord of heaven and earth is with you.
We are made to worship. If we don’t respond to the revelation of God by turning toward God to give him glory and our gratitude, we harden our hearts and end up worshiping something of our own creation. We are designed to worship and worship we will do. The only real question is, whom or what will we worship?
©Copyright 2024 Luann Budd / Journal Keeping
Photography by Luann Budd
When we gaze at the manger, we are witnesses of the all-wise Creator entering his creation to rescue, to gather, to love.