Galleries

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole. … When he was hung on the cross, he took upon himself the curse for our wrongdoing.  Galatians 3:13

Jesus wasn’t born to be just a teacher, or to just tell stories about the kingdom, or just to perform miracles, or even to be king of Israel.  He was born to reverse the curse pronounced in the Garden of Eden. 

The curse came upon Adam and Eve when they failed to believe God about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  When they fell for the serpent’s deception and sealed it with an act of disobedience, they ushered in immense consequences for them and every one of us who descend from them.  Is it any wonder that Jesus grew up to say, “Whoever believes in me, though He dies, yet shall He live.”  Unbelief brought the curse upon us.  Belief in Jesus would free us from it. 

The sin of unbelief was carried out in a garden.  Thirty-three years after little Jesus was born, He would enter another garden to deal with the weight of our curse.  He knew what it would mean to die in our place.

Everyone who embraces this Savior and believes in Him, with their life, is no longer cursed ~ but blessed.  The theme of our life is not ‘paradise lost’ but ‘paradise restored.’  Barren landscapes, once brown and decayed by sin, are now lush and green.  In kingdom places, we dare walk barefoot in tender grass without fear of cutting our feet.  We dare drink water from any pond or water source without fear of contamination.  Wherever God is ~ is paradise, and this little Savior, who slept in the hay, shook our world to lead us there.  Condemnation was instantly banished with His words, “It is finished.” 

I still believe You and choose to live by faith every day of my life. Amen

After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. Luke 2:46-47

Was it difficult for Joseph and Mary to give Jesus a normal upbringing? Was he a normal villager’s kid? In this one account from Luke, Jesus goes to the temple when He is twelve, asks a few questions, offers some insights in response, and the scholars are amazed.

How do you hide the Light of the world in a dark and oppressive Roman society? In Nazareth, there very well could have been stories among the villagers about Jesus. Though His first public miracle was at the wedding at Cana, did things happen earlier that could only have been explained by the word ‘miracle’? We’re not told but I find it interesting that Mary turned to Jesus at the wedding and casually asked if He would do something about the wine that had run out.

I wonder if the presence of God, resident in Christ, caused cataclysmic reactions at various points in His childhood. Surely something extraordinary happened in the temple when Jesus was twelve. His divinity was on display that day.

Thirty years of age is a long time for Jesus to wait to be released into public ministry. In God’s wisdom, there were thirty years of preparation for three years of ministry.

You and I may be aware of spiritual gifts that lie in waiting. We strain to exercise them and second-guess God’s wisdom of how long it will be until the door of our calling is opened. Could there be a lifetime of preparation for a few short years of ministry? Yes. John the Baptist was a flash of Light for a very short time, but never, according to Jesus, did anyone burn brighter.

I submit to Your wisdom and timetable. Amen

Wise men came from the east to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is He who was born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” Matthew 2:1-2

Scholars disagree on the length of the wise men’s journey to Bethlehem. The shortest calculation is forty days. The longest, and the one most everyone agrees upon, is approximately two years. Whether a 40-day journey or a 2-year voyage, it took considerable planning.  

Had they always been looking for the star that appeared in the night sky? How did they know its significance?  How could they be sure it wasn’t something of lesser significance? But they knew.  And as they traveled, they would have recalibrated continually to ensure they were still on track. Eyes fixed, they were led safely to their destination.  

Symbolically, each of us embarks on a similar journey. We see the glory of God revealed, not in the skies, but in the face of Christ. That event means more than what we can convey in a dinner conversation. It holds such significance that we are willing to stop everything, count the cost, and embark on a journey that takes a lifetime. Ultimately, we won’t arrive in Bethlehem to see a baby but in heaven to see a risen, glorified Jesus. Along the way, we need to keep our eyes fixed. We need to recalibrate. If our gaze remains on Jesus, the north star, we follow a direct path home. 

Jesus understands the sojourn. He made it Himself. Eyes fixed on His Father, He was led safely to glory. 

Jesus, I’m looking at the horizon and not at my feet. Amen

There is none like you, O LORD; you are great, and your name is great in might. Jeremiah 10:6

Long before Bethlehem’s star pierced the night, God made Himself known through names that echoed His sovereignty—The God Who Sees, The God Who Hears, the Lord our Banner. These names were powerful, yet still veiled. Then Jesus came, and there was a seismic shift in how humanity understood God.

Immediately after Jesus’ birth, the shepherds learned His identity: Savior and Emmanuel. And as He grew, His names became windows into the Father’s heart: Bread of Life, Good Shepherd, True Vine, Lamb of God, Precious Cornerstone, and Last Adam. Each name peeled back another layer of the mystery. Each one gave believers new glimpses into the complex and unfathomable depths of God.

There is nothing more important for me to learn than the names of God. The ones that are most precious to me are those I had to embrace out of great need. They became fluent in my soul only when I needed them to be. Some still remain theological to me, shimmering with beauty but not yet inhabited. Others are now as essential as breathing because they were forged in seasons where I had nothing else to stand on.

On my next quiet journaling day, I want to gather these names, both ancient titles and New Testament revelations, and write them out like stepping stones of grace. And after the ones that have carried me, I will jot down the memories associated with them: the moments of fear, surrender, healing, and hope that opened my heart to who God truly is.

Before life is over, I want to know You within the context of all Your names. Amen

“Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a servant and was born as a human being.” Philippians 2:7

Parents of missionaries who serve in dangerous places carry a unique ache. They live with the possibility of loss and the knowledge that obedience sometimes leads their children into the very heart of spiritual conflict. They wonder if they will see their sons and daughters again, and they wrestle with the fear that faithfulness may cost more than they feel prepared to give.

Does God understand their agony? Yes. He felt it first.

From eternity, the Trinity moved in perfect unity—a communion so deep that human language has a hard time capturing it. Scripture hints at the mystery of the Three-in-One, a love so integrated that Jesus could say, “I am in the Father and the Father is in Me.” Their fellowship was dynamic, like a slow, synchronised dance, each One freely and joyfully yielding to the other.

Then came the moment when the Son stepped forward into His mission.

Imagine the holy disruption. The rhythm of heaven shifted when Jesus crossed the threshold into time. The Father watched Him go with omniscient grief. He knew the malice of Satan, who would unleash every weapon in his arsenal. He foresaw the ambushes, the murderous crowds, the sleepless nights, and the sorrow that would carve itself into His beloved Son’s face.

And the Father planned every escape, every delay, every divine “not yet” that would preserve the Lamb until Calvary’s appointed hour. God tasted what human parents feel when their children step into danger for the sake of the Gospel.

He also saw the outcome of His sacrifice. He saw the disciples who would rise in courage. He saw the nations receiving light. He saw the Church that would be pressed down but never destroyed.

Father, You also gave everything. You saw the suffering, the danger, the heartbreak, and chose love anyway. Thank you. Amen

Then the elders and all those at the gate said, “We are witnesses. May the LORD make the woman who is coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you have standing in Ephrathah and be famous in Bethlehem. Ruth 4:11

If I truly grasped the weight of my words, I would handle them with far greater reverence. I would strip away careless speech, choosing instead to let every word sow something holy. A blessing is never lost; it doesn’t evaporate into the air or dissolve with time. It roots itself in the soil of a person’s life and bears fruit according to God’s own laws of sowing and reaping. The elders who blessed Boaz that day could not see beyond the moment, but they understood the power of covenant language. Their culture knew that blessings and curses shaped destinies. They spoke boldly, invoking the legacy of Rachel and Leah over Ruth. What they could not have imagined was that Ruth’s son would become the grandfather of King David, and that centuries later, another King—Jesus—would rise from that very lineage in Bethlehem. Their blessing reached farther than their understanding.

There’s a beautiful tradition practiced in many churches. At the end of the service, the congregation stands and grows quiet while the pastor lifts his hand to speak a blessing over the people. It isn’t a formality. It isn’t a polite way to dismiss the crowd. It reflects something far older and far deeper. In the Old Testament, words spoken in blessing carried real spiritual weight. A blessing was viewed as an act that set something in motion. Isaac’s blessing over Jacob shaped a nation. Moses’ blessing over the tribes carried God’s intentions forward. When a blessing was spoken, it was believed that God Himself would honor and act upon those words.

On a more personal note ~ I realize that I have the power today to bless another. What I speak may be the catalyst for profound change. And conversely, what I spew in anger has the potential to become their prison. May my language leave a taste of the divine.

So I offer this blessing now: “Father, I bless each person who reads these words. Draw them gently beyond their comfort zones and into deeper communion with You. Let them discover the riches of Your love and grace. Surround their homes with Your warring angels and make Your presence the glory in their midst. Keep them from evil and strengthen them to stand firm against the enemy. Prosper their children spiritually. Sit with them at their tables and surprise them with holy conversation. Amen.”