Blessed

"And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and she exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!" Luke 1:41-42


During my most recent reading of the events leading up to the birth of the Christ, this passage lingered in my thoughts. I could not help but wonder wonder, did Mary always feel blessed? Did these words of Elizabeth's echo in her memory on the day when she had to reveal her pregnancy to her betrothed, who without a doubt believed that his Mary had been unfaithful, since he considered putting her aside? It was certainly a blessing that he did not divorce her, sparing her the shame and hardship of raising the baby alone at a time when there was no daycare and no part-time job for single mothers. But during the journey to Bethlehem, far into the least comfortable part of pregnancy, did she once again turn the word, "blessed" over and over in her mind as she trudged the weary miles? I even wonder what her thoughts were as she gave birth in a dank and musty stable, very likely without the help of a midwife or even any experienced woman. Did the words of Gabriel, "Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!" come to haunt her in those moments? I often think that, of all people on the earth, Mary must have some of the greatest reasons to wonder what it truly means to be blessed or favored of the Lord.

As I think of Mary's story in this light, I cannot help but recall the words of God as spoken through Isaiah: " 'For my thoughts are not your thoughts; neither are your ways my ways,' " It is easy for us to think of "blessings" in terms of wealth, health, ease, and material gain. However, this simply is not always the case. Mary was blessed among women, highly favored, and yet her life was marked with difficulty and hardship. There is no indication that she was a wealthy woman, nor was her Son's ministry one that lead to financial gain or elevation of status. Indeed, He even was quoted as saying He had no place to lay His head! However, she was in fact very blessed, as there is probably none on earth who had a bond to the King of Kings quite like hers. I have no doubts that all the trials and troubles of her life, all the sorrows that chased her as she watched her Son ridiculed and hated, and later beaten and brutally murdered, drew her ever closer to God. She began as a young woman saying, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord. May it be to me according to your word." It is worthy of note that she began her journey in humility and surrender.

While we celebrate Christmas this year, let us remember that the blessings of God are not always designed for our comfort and delight. They are often designed to hone our faith, to sharpen our desire for Him, to remove self-righteousness and other useless baggage, and to bring about a state of complete and total reliance on the Almighty. Blessings are not meant for here and now, but to bring about the refining of our character in preparation for Eternity with the Lord.

Another of Mary's sons, James, tells us many years later, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness." It is likely that he had grown up hearing stories of faith tested by anxiety and affliction that produced a steadfastness beyond what many of us can imagine! So let us resolve to celebrate not only the ups, but the downs. Let us celebrate the trials that show our mighty God's power blazing through our frailty. Let us be willing to embrace whatever blessings God sends our way, even if they do not look like blessings at the time, and rejoice that He can turn our sorrow into joy. May we each have a truly blessed Christmas!

"I have said these things to you that in Me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Relationships in the Void

There have been several thoughts dogging my heels lately, and I cannot shake them. I know I am severely delinquent in my writing; perhaps this is the goad to get me back on track. And so, forgive my rustiness as I struggle to organize my thoughts....


It struck me several days ago during a casual conversation that it is quite impossible to live on this earth without having an impact on anyone else. In order to avoid having any effect on any other person, even a slight effect such as causing them to wonder briefly if you are in a bad mood, one would have to live in a relational void with absolutely no contact with another human being. To put it very bluntly, this simply means that it is impossible to hurt oneself without hurting others. There are no crimes perpetrated against self only; they all have repercussions to others.

For example, a drunk or a drug addict does not merely poison his body--he poisons his relationships. If he is married, he puts the bottle between himself and his wife. If a father, he adds an element of embarrassment and confusion to his children's view of him at best, if he is a placid drunk. If he is a more typical angry drunk, he brings in fear, suffering, and often condemns them to live and grow within the abuse cycle, either becoming abusers themselves or accepting abuse as normal. If he drives under the influence, he risks--and sometimes robs--the lives of others. No matter how self-contained he may seem, if he does not get help and kick the habit, he destroys himself and brings heartache to those who love him. He does not merely harm himself, he is an indiscriminate inflictor of harm.

Another common view I have heard is that any sexual act that happens between consenting adults is completely harmless. This is also bunk, unless the consenting adults in question happen to be permanently committed to one another. Otherwise, they inflict any emotional baggage from said act on any future partners without regard for that partner's feelings in the matter. If, by some flight of complete idiocy, one or both of the consenting adults is already married, they by their self-serving act bring an emotional wrecking ball into the marital relationship and, if children are present, ruthlessly batter them in the process. Sex, then, is also not merely a personal, private act unless it is, in fact, kept between two people. Otherwise, it is somewhat clownishly public.

I will confess that I have been either party to or vicitm of both of these points of view, and therefore I have no qualms in railing against them, for in doing so I rail against my own past and my own foolishness. I am the clown; I am the idiot of this story. There were many other ways in which I sought to destroy myself and ended up damaging others, but I shall not go into those at this time. However, I am delighted to say that this interconnectedness works in more pleasant ways, as well. Love, too, can trickle out from others and heal the destruction left behind. There may be scars, but the healing beneath can be complete.

I found this love in no other but the one the Jews called the Messiah, for I was far too damaged at the time I met Him to even see it in others. It was the stunning realization of His love and humility that caused me to see past my own pain to the harm I caused others by continuing to nurse it. Once enough healing had taken place that I could limp along a bit on my own, He began to show me the messy, imperfect, and glorious love found in the community of true believers. Now I find it is my duty to love others rather than to loathe myself. It is at this time my fervent prayer that love will be my whole motive, that selflessness will replace selfishness, and that those who were wounded by shrapnel in my battle with myself will find the same healing, the same peace... and the same shock of cold water waking them fully to the Absolute Truth.

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

MP2 Moments

I will have to admit it: I was not looking forward to Mission: Possible 2 this year. For 2 weeks before, I was fighting a crushing fatigue and my attitude was poor at best. I found myself actually dreading the week that I had looked forward to since the previous year. I did not feel capable of loving children or even tolerating them. Over the weekend I began to plead with my heavenly Father to change my heart and to renew my physical strength, not for myself but for the sake of GP and for the sake of the kiddos who would be stuck with me for a week. As always, He rewards those who earnestly seek Him, and I found myself waking at 5:00 a.m. on Monday morning with a brand-new outlook. And so began the second annual Mission: Possible.

As in any group of children, it seems there is one who is the designated good kid and one who is the class clown, lacking in self-control and stirring up other kids to follow their less-than-desirable example. This group was no different. There was one child who tried my patience, required constant reminders to "keep your hands to yourself," needed prompting and prodding to do any actual work, and generally made it difficult to find anything--anything at all--to be encouraging about. That background being painted, here follows a list of my favorite moments:

• Finding not one, but three moments to encourage the laziest kid on Thursday.
• Taking prayer requests from some of the kids in my group during a food canvassing walk through a neighborhood, then praying for them right then and there, out loud for the kids to hear.
• Interspersed with the prayers, discussing with the kids how awesome it is that we can come to God anywhere, anytime, with any requests or concerns thanks to the work Christ did on the cross for us.
• Talking with one boy about the nature of God, who is called both a consuming fire and the Living Water, and how Jesus is known as the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God. Praying that these seeds planted will grow into a fascination with and hunger to really know the Lord.
• Getting a hug on Friday night from the one kid who tested my patience the most during the week.
• Expressing delight and welcoming one young lady who would like to come back and be a youth volunteer when she is too old to attend MP and encouraging her in her hard work and positive attitude.
• Seeing the whine level decrease dramatically as the week went on.
• Watching the faces of the patients at the nursing home as the kids sang and played ball with them.
• Hearing the excitement in my own kids' voices as they related their missions each day and looked forward to the next.
• Linking arms and twirling with the kids during the dance break.
• Listening to one kid sing this year's theme song with gusto on Friday night and hearing another's excitement that they would get an MP3 of it to keep.

There were more, but those are the ones that stand out. It was a great week, and I found that, once again, God comes through when I am at the end of myself. He gave me the strength, the compassion, the energy and the creativity I needed to honor Him during it all.

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Submission, Circles, and Judo

Today, I took a rather fitful nap and had a waking dream in which certain things became compellingly clear. I don’t know how this will sound on paper, but in my slight fever dream, here is what came to me:

I have been grappling with the concept of absolute submission to authority, specifically God’s authority, for some time. While I know what it means, there is still a maniacal part of me who simply must have a tangible, experiential, relational way to feel and communicate it. Knowing this, my Father chose to honor me with many opportunities to explore the idea of submission on varying levels, in varying amounts, and in a number of ways. My initial reaction to this amazing honor was that I complained.

Loudly.

Frequently.

Nearly incessantly.

I was not pleased and did not like it. I do not want to submit, so I rebel in my heart and stick my stubborn chin out like the sulky child I am. Truly there is no greater picture of my relationship to God than the wise, patient, loving Father firmly guiding the infinitely mulish and ignorant toddler out of harm’s way. That, however, is a tangent to this circle that I will not explore at the moment. . .

The second reaction to this Fatherly trust was that I began to mull over the whole of submission; meditating on it, examining its surface, dissecting it to see what was inside, and trying to piece it back together again. During this process, a misconception that I did not even realize I carried became clear to me. As it turns out, I have always thought that bringing myself into submission to God’s authority in my life was, in essence, making His will my will.

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

Submission to His will means that I have a will of my own apart from what His is and yet I do not act on it. I act on His will, leaving my will very much alive and pulsing. The difference is that I ignore mine. I do His will anyway, quite despite my own. I let my will remain but I do not touch it. I fully embrace His even when the core of my being screams in protest at what it does not want to do. I submit, not because it blesses me to submit, but because the love of Christ compels me beyond myself. I do not submit because it ultimately brings me pleasure. I am not in the pleasure-seeking business although I frankly admit that would love to be. I submit because I must.

This brings me to judo.

What is commonly called a “submission” in judo is a bit of a different thing, but not entirely. The art of judo lies in the dual concepts of “mutual welfare and benefit” and “maximum efficient use of force.” I have heard the term ‘submission’ frequently applied to such techniques as chokes and armbars. Both of these techniques are applied during a grappling phase of the contest in which neither opponent was able to achieve a decisively winning throw and now must attempt to overcome the other competitor with a 25-second pin or one of the previously mentioned submissions. In either a choke or armbar, the person to whom the technique is applied is left with two choices: tap out and end the match or take a gamble and try to escape, thus risking losing either consciousness or a functional joint (depending on the technique applied). To the bystander, the wise choice seems obvious. Not so to the judoka who may feel that there is some wiggle room or some chance of still winning the match.

This brings me to circles.

I find it interesting to see that, just as a nicely-applied armbar or choke may seem, to the spectator, to leave the compromised judoka no wise choice other than to submit, it similarly seems to me that, given a broader perspective, my own decisions not to submit to the will of God would be equally obvious and I would look quite the fool for choosing to continue to fight.

You see, for whatever reason it surfaces—be it a drive to succeed, machismo, or desire not to let his sensei or his club down--it is often the judoka’s pride whispering, “I can do this! He can’t beat me,” that may cause him to leave the mat in a rather less comfortable state then when he bowed on, very often with a stunning realization that perhaps he should have submitted to superior skill and tapped out.

The spectator, however, sees the match from a less emotionally garbled perspective and so the decision is broken down into more easily manageable terms: pain or submit. In the former choice, the contestant loses the match with some discomfort; in the latter he loses a match and perhaps loses a bit of face, but he gains the comfort of a correctly-fitted elbow and possibly a valuable learning experience. After all, the sole purpose of a submission technique is to end the match and, in the spirit of judo, grants one player the opportunity to end the match with elbow or consciousness intact to the mutual welfare and benefit of both players. Sure, one person loses the match, but no one is damaged and life can continue as usual, practice and all.

This is applicable when I think of times my will is opposed to God’s will. To the angelic host, who are possible spectators to my silly little match with my own flesh, the choice to submit is probably equally obvious. Submitting to God’s will effectively ends the match. I may not like what He has told me to do, but when I honestly submit, the match is over. When I struggle against Him, however, it is as senseless as willingly taking a dislocation. I gain nothing, the match still ends, and I find I am less capable of doing the task that I still must do. When I continue to struggle when I clearly should submit, it is a near-equivalent of losing and continuing to fight with a dislocated elbow. It is much less efficient and far less pleasant than if I simply submit. In submission, I retain consciousness and joint function and am able to perform the task I’m given, figuratively speaking. When I submit, there is no longer a battle between the new man and the old man. The match is over and God has won. I lose my will (or submit it), but I am able to get up and go on.

And so, in my odd little dreamstate, I saw match after match where I was, for reasons unknown, expected to fight with every ounce of strength, skill, and energy that I have. I found myself first up against C. My throw is missed, we grapple, and I find that I am in a place where I must choose to submit. Next on the mat is J. Unsurprisingly, I am put into another submission and struggle a bit but eventually tap out. Panting and ready for a break, I find that M. takes his place and I find myself again going all out on what seems a losing battle. It is, and a lesson is learned but now D., lower rank but with youth and fierce strength, is facing me and bowing. Again, after fighting with all I have, I am brought to submission and another lesson learned. Exhausted, I am ready to leave the mat… but now it is Sensei. I find myself embarrassingly quickly in another uncomfortable position and perhaps submitting is a little easier this time. Perhaps not. Hopefully, I am learning how quickly it behooves me to submit. For now, I cannot quite make out the face but an enormous shape looms… it couldn’t be that they expect me to fight D. M.?!?

Or is it my Goliath?

These are not real matches, of course, but they symbolize the increasingly large and difficult areas in which I am asked to submit in life. Each time, I am expected to submit more fully. Each time the task before me seems more monumental and difficult, and yet I am, again and again, compelled by Christ to submit to His will and give it my all. Each time, I feel a little more weary and a little less able. And yet, I am still compelled. Somehow, in some way, I must learn that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

“… apart from Me, you can do nothing,” comes His whispered reminder.

And so I stand and fight again. . .

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Fatigue

It is late again, and once again I find myself awake. I am soooo sleepy, weary, desolate during the day, but once I lay down... an ache starts in my extreme lower back and soon this nagging pain drives me to find some other, more comfortable way to lay, to sit, to stand. . . anything. . .

And I am awake.

It is never in vain to be awake, however, if our God has something to say. Trouble is, I do not seem to understand it. I know my trust has been lacking lately. I have been so tired. Tired of the same old battles that never seem to be won, only fought endlessly and repetitively. Tired of pain. Tired of waking up. Tired. Funny, many of my earliest memories are of being tired. I remember being sleepy in school, groggy when we were dropped off, exhausted when we were picked up. In fact, I cannot remember a moment in life when I was not tired in some measure or another. Just the other day, my husband took a look at me during breakfast and sent me back to bed. I told him I didn't feel I could sleep, that I wasn't very tired. Then I woke at noon. From that point on, I realized that I was just regular tired for the rest of the day, not the bone-crushing, strength-sapping weariness that typically presses on me. I was merely sleepy, not borderline psychotic.

So why all this muttering about being tired? Well, the truth is that I do understand what God is saying to me. I have been discontent, but He calls me to focus on Him and be satisfied. I have been restless, but He calls me to rest. I have been angry, but He calls me to love instead. I have felt slighted, but He reminds me that apart from the slights Christ bore, I would receive wrath as well. I have felt despondent, but He whispers that my reward is not here on earth, my life is not for my own pleasure, and my mind must not linger anywhere but on the Author and Perfecter of my faith. Of course, He is right.

I have dwelt on my own sorrow and discomfort rather than on the One who laid aside glory to cloak Himself in clumsy flesh. Doing so, He gave up comfort for pain so that I may some day be free entirely, trade this perishable body for an imperishable one, and truly live. In coming to live and die as a man, He was willingly bereft of Something--some bond, some part of Himself--in a way that I can never completely grasp, just to pay the penalty for my crimes so that I can live with Him in eternity. He loved me, not when I was careful, sincere, and generous, but when I was reckless, false, and stingy. Not when I was striving to achieve the glorious purity of holiness, but when I was spiritually akin to a grime-layered, homeless junkie who cared only for the next fix. He called me to trust Him when I did not even trust myself, and I did.

Now He reminds me: "You came to Me, dear, and You believed. Belief must not waver now that your rags are patched and your belly full. Yes, little one, you are tired, but you must not give up. I have given you a task to do, and you must do it even if you do not think you can. Trust Me to use your little strength for My glory. Do as you are told, even if it doesn't seem to come out right just now. Leave the results to Me. For I have searched you and known you. I know when you sit down and when you rise up. I discern your thoughts from afar. I search out your path and your lying down, and am acquainted with all your ways. Even before a word is on your tongue, I know it altogether. I hem you in, behind and before, and lay my hand upon you. You are weary, but I shall give you rest. Just come to Me, know that My hand is indeed upon You, and rest in Me. I, your Lord, have the rest that no sleep can provide, the peace that no circumstance can offer. In Me you will find the life-giving Water so that you may never thirst again. I am your Rock, your Shelter, your Comforter and Guide. I am your Savior and your Creator. I AM. Come to me, lay your burdens down, and go about your work with a good cheer. I will be with you always... "

And I believe Him.

"I have said these things to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Insomnia

It is nearly midnight--a time I have only recently seen when a thunderstorm or nightmare wakes one of the children--and I am wide awake. Many thoughts have been careening through my head in the last few hours, and I am only just beginning to sort through them. Where do I begin? I suppose it would be best to begin with love. It was love that began me, after all.

When I speak so of love, I am not speaking of the rather clunky attempts humanity makes of the thing, nor do I mean to make a crude joke of the eros that was, nonetheless, certainly a fact of my beginning. I am speaking of Love as a Person. It is written that God is Love, and that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. So you see, Love began me long before my earthly parents met or were even born. My Father had already set in motion a staggering number of events that would eventually lead to the birth of the child that was me. Astonishingly and almost unthinkably, this is no less true for anyone, whether or not they believe.

In this same multitude of events, my Father had also arranged for the death of that child, just as He arranged for the death of His Son. Jesus died selflessly, bearing my sins. I died shamefully only when I began to understand the weight of what He had given for silly, selfish, petty me.

Today (or to be particular, yesterday as of two minutes ago), as I celebrated His resurrection with my blood family and my church family, I thought of Paul as he wrote, "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." True, my flesh is not dead, but a person is more than their meat. The part that is me is crucified--hanged by the sheer perfection of Love and my own unworthiness of it--and it is dying the slow death of crucifixion as each year reveals yet another layer of separation from God and yet another facet of the merciful Savior who stands ready to receive me into life--real Life--once this death is complete. This Savior without Whom I would have no chance whatsoever of seeing my way free of the absolute human bondage of sin; without Whom I would not even see the chains.

Oh, and all this is just a mote--just a speck that I am struggling to put into words! This is the second time I have been flooded with a love that was far too exquisite to be human, far too immense to be my own. Along with that pulsing, cascading, aching sharpness is the certainty that it is also but the merest breath of True Love. So much love, so much life, so much mystery rushes through my mind. . .

How I love each of my brothers and sisters in Christ... not only as brothers and sisters, but as members of the same Body. . .

How I love the gifts and strengths of each and long to see them finally unbound by that which is crucified . . .

How I am torn by the weaknesses of each--my own included--and weep at the frailty of flesh removed from glory by sin. . .

How I am at once exhilarated and frightened by the depth of this Love that is both an unquenchable fire and a rushing torrent of water. . .

How I am captivated by the wonder of it all, wanting at once to be consumed by it and yet still clinging to the old self out of simple fear of the unknown. . .

How even now as I sit typing, groping for words, I know that this Story is too expansive to be contained by mere words. I can only communicate in terms of my experience with taste, touch, smell, sight, emotion. . . I am captive of my senses, and yet I have the distinct impression that even sensuality is only "dirty" by the corruptive twisting of sin.

In contemplation of self or in love of others, it is often impossible to separate the sinner from the sin. My God, blessed be His name! does not share that problem, and in Him all things are plain, pure, undefiled, and Real. A child understands such simple and complete love without the complications or nuances added by a decaying mind. For we are born into decay, and the corruption grows as our bodies grow, infecting us more and more completely. It is only by opening ourselves to Love, by allowing the crucifixion of that which is perishable, that we can be raised one day imperishable. It is another seeming paradox. But what is paradox if not to show the fragility of human understanding? One breath of truth and it all comes tumbling gloriously down.

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Bland or Blind?

"...it might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life. The thing I mean can be seen, for instance, in children, when they find some game or joke that they especially enjoy. A child kicks his legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.

But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony... It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we." --G. K. Chesterton

I ran across the above quote in an excerpt from G. K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy. What an excellent description of the pure, sweet energy of love and life when it is not beaten down by decay, sin, and sorrow! There is an obvious connection to such Scriptures as Matthew 18:3 ("...unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven"), but I wonder if this ability to take delight in endless repetition goes beyond merely youthful? Perhaps the adult longing for newness is more a symptom of our fallen nature than we realize. Just maybe our penchant for diversity is not a healthy appreciation of variety, but a sign of instability and restlessness of spirit. I believe that our distress at sameness stems not from the repetitiveness of the event but from a failure of concentration.

Consider James 1:2-4; "Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." Is it my imagination, or does the word, "endurance" have some connotation of drudgery? Do we not merely endure the ordinary far more than the extraordinary?

When initially reading these verses, I thought of these trials as being major events--change or testing on a grand scale. But what is more trying to the human spirit than monotony? Personally, it is not in the moments of great adversity that I find my faith most sorely tested, but in the day-to-day tedium of routine and repetition. The same old dishes, the same old faces, the same old scenery... Often, I fear, it is not our routine that has become tiresome but our attitudes. We trudge through glorious moment after glorious moment of our lives with dulled senses; soaking up the granduer and yet emanating the stale odor of death. However, my children positively revel in each reiteration of yesterday! They are alive in the moment, delighting still in the color of the dish or the depth of the scene. All of life is fresh and new to them. They have not yet been so damaged by sin as to grow bored with the sheer wonder of breathing in and breathing out.

What if we could recapture that quality? It is my prayer that each person who reads this will be granted the grace to see the beauty in sameness. Indulge in monotony today! Be alive and present in each task you undertake, each moment of your routine. After all, it is not the variety of color that makes the maple tree stunning in autumn, but the blaze of matching yellow-gold leaves. Our magnificent God, Himself, is steady and unchanging (see Malachi 3:6, James 1:17). So we see there is resplendence in monotony; it is up to us to take the time to relish it.

Scripture quotations are from the ESV^® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version^®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.