Self Growth

Saint Jerome, in his commentary on Galatians, talks about the time when Johnthe Beloved, Bishop of Ephesus, was no longer able to preach, teach, or evenstand. Parishioners would carry him to his seat in the church. Each Sunday hewould say to the assembled congregation, “Little children, love one another.”[1] Many years of leading, discipling, counseling, preaching, and teaching werereduced into a simple but important message of love.

“Merry Christmas!” we say in the United States. “Joyeux Noel!” exclaim the French. The Brits say, “Happy Christmas!” “Frohe Weihnachten!” echoes throughout Germany. And “Feliz Navidad!” can be heard in many countries. No matter how you say it, when it comes to Christmas the world over, we all share the same idea. Christmas is a time for joy. Feeling joyous in December is downright human. If you’re not happy at Christmas, you may as well be Mr. Scrooge himself.

Brokenness. For many of us, that word describes not just a season in our lives, but a place of identity. This year, the year that none of us anticipated or likely could have imagined, has become a year when many have admitted their brokenness for the first time.

Even though I never read most books in my stash, I have no regrets. Instead of holing up in the cabin, I sat outside around the campfire in the evenings. Among towering pines against a backdrop star-studded sky.

In that setting, I found peace and healing. A respite from personal concerns, from the outside world, from thoughts of COVID-19 and everything else that dominates the news. A former journalist, I’m a news junkie and lack of access to media reports proved a refreshing break.

We live in an instant-gratification culture. We send a text and get cross when we don’t receive a response within minutes. We order items online and two days later they show up on our doorstep. We turn on our televisions and watch a movie or a show on demand. We are spoiled.

No surprise, then, that our patience with God is occasionally tried. If our culture is so accommodating, why isn’t our Lord?

Isn’t it funny how the idea of sitting quietly changes as we grow up? When we’re young, the thought of having to spend time in silence is more of a punishment than a pleasure. We don’t want to sit there doing nothing. How boring! But as we get older, silence becomes golden.

Opening the mailbox, I felt my heart quicken at the sight of the beautiful purple flowers on the cover of the seed catalog. Every February it arrives, along with the hope that cold winter days and even longer nights will end. I chuckled to myself as I remembered what happened a year ago.

I couldn’t believe it. I was asked to speak to and work with other children’s pastors at a conference in Disney World. For someone like me, this felt like the epitome of a “perk” at work.

As a child, I always wanted to go to Disney World. I remember watching TV commercials, long-ing to see the fireworks in front of the castle. My parents could and never would fulfill my child-hood dream. Between finances, priorities, and mental illness, a trip to the Magic Kingdom wasn’t an option.

Listening seems to be a lost art in a very much me-centered society. I doubt many would argue that point. We’re all guilty of not listening like we should.

At the beginning of the year, I always pray for the Lord to lay a specific word on my heart for the new year. In the past, those included words like refuge, rest, and abide.

This year, the Lord gave me the word wisdom. I always thought wisdom came with age. When God firmly planted the word wisdom upon my heart, I sensed this came from the Lord in a very real way. The word never entered my mind on my own. Even so, I sat on the word for a while. As a young person, I certainly prayed for wisdom. But I didn’t share this word aloud like I normally did. You could say I “fleeced” it a bit, taking a page from Gideon’s story in the book of Judges.