One of my favorite passages from a book I recently read was about how good people get lured into following another man’s senseless, worthless rules. (I’m not sure I absorbed the exact story the author was trying to tell, but that’s okay, especially in keeping with that thought, isn’t it?). I found so many parallels to life in, and specifically, these wild and perilous times.
In the book they had a seven hundred page book of rules and regulations, to which they expected rigid adherence, or else. I bet we’re not that far off, here in the land of the free, the home of the heavily- regulated, and still constantly yelling at each other to do a better job. How did we get here? It’s been a long process, I’m sure, and like most things, paved with some good intention. New rules and laws and regulations are always being written, and not every rule makes or has common sense. Amidst a highly litigated and legislated society, what are we to do? How do we guide our kids through it too?
Because the irony is, you can’t dictate kindness, but you can teach what it looks like. You can’t legislate a moral compass, but you can encourage others to find theirs, even while you do the same.
If you truly care and are guided by a sense of what is truth and what is right, you don’t need a seven hundred page book to tell you what to do. If, however, we spend more time teaching rules and regulations, yet not enough about the truth behind it, or the truths they should be connected to, it will never be enough. Rules alone are never enough.
The best, truest “good citizens” aren’t necessarily trying to follow all the rules. They’re connected to a deep sense of right and wrong, deeper than any growing list of rules. It’s best when it’s connected to something bigger that themselves. It’s a sense of purpose that comes from knowing right and wrong exists and that it’s beyond “doing the right thing”, and more about choosing to “be the right thing” ourselves. Bringing our lives to the table in service of a greater purpose, beyond right and wrong, but connected to a living and breathing spirit of truth.
We should stop worrying about raising or creating rule followers, and spend more time teaching kids how to figure out right from wrong, how to judge things rightly, for themselves. That matters more than learning to follow all of the rules, anyway.
Because at the end of the day, they aren’t going to always have us there to tell them what is right or wrong. They aren’t going to know which way to go sometimes. And they’re going to need to navigate, especially when the rules aren’t clear or it’s a new situation they haven’t experienced yet. No matter what our age, we all need to know how to find truth and to decipher things for ourselves. On purpose, and not just reaction or emotion. Not based on feelings, but on truth.
People really like to lead with our emotions. Indignation. Anger. Hatred even. Based on what we read or heard or how we believe about something, we react strongly and convincingly. Even when were dead wrong. And we bring others to come and join us. Emotions are very easily swayed and manipulated. They are a superpower of humans, but easily become a weakness when they’re disconnected from any truth.
The best place to find truth? God Himself. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. He holds the answers. Truth is a person. Get to know Him.
We need a world full of people guided by real truth and less by emotion or head-knowledge. We need a world guided by Truth, and Love, which is Jesus. When He was preparing to leave the earth, He told us He would send us a helper. The Holy Spirit, who would guide us in all things.
That’s beyond a moral compass. It’s about a living breathing God who cares enough to show us which way to go when we ask Him. Who doesn’t force us but will guide, as gently as possible toward the right path. Who can and does speak through my intellect and my heart, but isn’t limited by them. Unless I let them have the reigns. Who is not limited by anything but my own willingness to be guided.
Let’s go to the source of all wisdom and knowledge. Normalize asking for direction when you’re not sure which way to go or what to think about something new. Ask God. Ask Him for direction, ask Him for wisdom. He says in his word that He will give it liberally.
One of my favorite favorite scriptures is “You will hear a voice behind you saying “this is the way, walk in it.” He also said, “My sheep hear my voice, the voice of another they will not follow.” What about the voice telling you to do or say something or go a way that isn’t the one God intends for you? “That’s temptation!,” one of the kids reminded me the other day. That’s right! And what did Jesus teach us to do about it? He taught us to pray: “Lead us not into temptation. But deliver us from evil.”
So let’s normalize asking the Holy Spirit for direction. Let’s seek Him first. Let’s normalize it in our daily lives, and in front of our kids, too. Let’s ask Him for His help and guidance at every turn. Let’s teach our kids to do the same.
Because In a world full of rules and “experts” and emotions, isn’t He the greatest expert? In a heart full of emotions, isn’t He the experts on that too? With our minds full of questions, doesn’t He hold all the answers?
“Lord let us hear your voice. Let us not be be guided not by any man’s rules or input, but first and foremost by your Spirit. Your Spirit of Truth. Let our moral compass be guided by your Holy Spirit, not our indignation or emotion or any other passion but the ones that You have. Share with us your thoughts and Your ways. Show us the way to go. Let us not go astray. Let us hear Your Voice, and the voice of another we will not follow.” Let’s pray this often. Humbly, moving forward by your guiding.
I come in whispers. I come in words. I come in feelings and secrets. I come when there’s pain. I come where you’ve been hiding, I come when you’ve run. I come in the nightmare, I come where there’s shame. I replace all these things, replace them with My Name.
Wonderful. Counselor. Prince of peace. You too can Know My Names. I came to heal so you can be free. I came to Love so you can live in Me
So Cling to me, now, more than your need. Listen to me more than you see. I come and replace the old things you loved. I come to fill in the cracks with things from above You see what’s broken. I see what can be
Don’t shrink from eternal, Come, now with Me. Open your eyes. I’m not far away. Open your eyes in the cool of the day. Come when you’re broken or when you feel whole. Come whenever you like. I’ll make your soul truly whole. Come with you grief and come with your pain. Come with your plans left out in the rain. Come when you’re hungry come when you feel full. My heart is still what you’re seeking. Come to Me and see you can be, And in Me, you’re already free ❤️
🎄🎄🎄🎄I was talking with a friend the other day, a quick, brief exchange as we crossed paths. She said “I almost look forward to to January. I mean I love Christmas. But it’s a lot, you know!?“
I do know, I thought.
The night before we had been decorating our tree, and when you turn around, it looked like a bomb had gone off. There were toys, snacks, and decorations everywhere. It’s not that my eager children weren’t helpful. They were, and delightful, decorating and unboxing with as much joy and exuberance as a child well.. preparing for Christmas. Their help was appreciated and their enthusiasm, a treasure, if not altogether tidy.
My mind flashed back to that scene, then quick as a wink, I was back standing face to face with my friend. “I sure do,” I nodded.
Then, again, I looked at her and knew she really knew. This years she has two new twin babies in addition to her other two, who are less than 4. I thought how my busy probably couldn’t even touch hers. Not that it’s a competition. But still. We both knew, in our own way. As do you. I nodded again.
I know a couple of years ago I maybe would have said something about “enjoy it, it goes too fast!” Or something else ridiculously true like that. True but unhelpful. (It would be akin to yelling to someone white water rafting, barreling down the rapids, holding on for dear life to “just enjoy the view!”)
Because while it does go too fast, and we should “try to enjoy it” I think we focus so much on that sometimes that we can kinda miss the whole point. We’re chasing moments or memories and what we end up with a mess in real life and a slight side of regret to go with it.
No matter how hard you try, especially at Christmas, there will always be more stuff to do than time to do it, more mess than there is time to clean up, and still yet, more joy than you can hold. You just have to know where to look for it.
So this year I won’t tell her-or you or me -to “slow down” or “enjoy it”. Lord knows you’re trying to. And if you could slow down time you already would have, or you stopped it altogether. No, don’t tell momma those things.
Tell her this instead. Messy does not mean youve missed the mark. Messy does not mean it’s not heaven- breathed. Messy does not mean.. well? Much of anything. Messy is just a part of living. Except one thing. Messy sets the stage. And It’s often where God shows up.
My daughter brought home a new book, about the same story, from the library the other day. It was the Christmas story. “At the perfect place, in the perfect time, Jesus was born.” I almost spit out my coffee or whatever else I was drinking when she read it out loud to me. I had to look over her shoulder to confirm the things. Yup. It was just as I heard.
While I, and probably you, understand (or at least defer in truthfully surrender) that it was the perfect time from God’s ultimate perspective, it was probably less than perfect in every way according to others. Do you think Mary and Joseph thought it was the perfect… anything?! They were traveling, uncomfortable, without a bed, about to give birth. It probably seemed anything but ideal.
Much like anything in life, it probably felt a lot messier than any Christmas card.
Jesus comes when you least expect it. He came that way then and comes now- in unexpected circumstances, when things don’t quite add up, or don’t go according to our schedules or don’t really seem to make much sense at all. He comes when it’s messy.
But aren’t most things worth doing messy? Like baking cookies in the kitchen, jumping in puddles, planning and preparing for a big event, getting married, giving birth. We like to erase the messy parts when we look back and overly romanticize things. With photo shop and a smooth brush, we brush over, gloss over the messy bits. We end up romanticize things so much that we hardly recognize when they’re real and right in front of us. (That must be why sometimes grandparents have the best view, the greatest sparkle in their eyes. As they watch, they can see right through the messy and see what’s really beautiful even in the mess that they know is just a part of life, will always be there.)
Look for him now-in unexpectedness, in change of plans, in disappointments. Because that’s how He came as a baby, and that’s how He still comes now. In the manger of your own messy circumstances and the stable of our own messy lives. So no don’t slow down, don’t speed up either. Don’t do anything except look around your heart and look for Jesus to come right where you are.
Your heart might be the manger He comes to rest in this year. Answer the door, open up, and let Him in. Right there, unexpected. He comes bearing gifts, the gift of His Love. Your biggest mess? He doesn’t mind. Your busy family, chaotic goings on? It’s got nothing on Him. Scooch over and make Him some room. He just wants to come. That baby, born a King. Emmanuel, God. With. Us. Wonderful, counselor, prince of peace, almighty God.
Let that be enough. (It already is.) His presence changes things, starting first of all, most of all… with your heart.
I remember that time, when we went to a live outdoor nativity around the corner from our parents’ houses. I remember walking around in the crisp cool night’s air. I remember taking turns holding our daughter and then watching my husband hold her, as we walked along with our little family, and my in-laws. We all marveled at the scenes, the twinkling lights, the real people and mostly pretend animals.
As we progressed along the path, anticipation grew, until we eventually got to the last scene. (Which, really was just the beginning.)
The part where Mary and Joseph were there, by the manger with baby Jesus.
Mary had just delivered a promise, the angels were around her, singing.
That night, in that space, had a different journey. My body started delivering a different promise, not into life, but instead, into the hands of God.
Somehow, reflexively, maybe, or timing, maybe providence, while watching this advent, my body began the long awaited process of miscarriage.
(I know this seems a funny story to share. And in fact I hesitate in some ways. But I share because I know someone might be there right now -in a story like this. or worse than this- somehow, someway, too.)
Some might wonder at the irony, the timing, the discomfort and loss at the nativity scene. But isn’t that the whole point?
Sometimes advent- His coming- can look like something coming to an end. Maybe it feels like your own dreams. Or even His. There are a lot of ways that a dream can die.
But hold on.
I want you to know that you’re not alone. That Christ is there too.
At the very same little corner church, that very same night, while my journey started towards one loss, my heart had a different one, too.
See, after we finished outside and headed inside I ran into a friend from high school.
This outstanding man, with the same quiet strength that he’d always possessed, had recently buried his wife -at Christmas time, no less, a few years earlier. I’d been to the funeral, the church decked out in its festive holiday finery and I and many cried their eyes out. The loss earthside felt thick, even while the gain of heaven caused for much celebration. The weight of a life well- lived, for God’s glory, hung heavy and great in the room. The baby girl she died delivering brought both a sense of great hope and great loss. all tangled up together
Here now he was, a couple of years later while I was holding one child and loosing another. He stood before me with his two kids and not his wife, and I wondered how he was doing, how he was standing.
I am tempted to say it was a painful reminder of loss. And it was. But it was also a palpable reminder of Hope.
It’s almost as if the loss I was carrying responded to the loss that he had carried too.
But with Hope.
While my heart ached for his, I could even almost see what any of us could lose, were maybe were even loosing. I felt the pangs of mine own, yet they lessened and eased for a moment. They’d ebb and flow later. But a wave came in that night air, that had nothing to do with the cold. I saw what he still held, and what held him. Christ. And the Hope in me leapt, even as part of me died.
I remembered in my bones, that Christ came, and none of us ever have to be alone, again.
It tempered the feelings of agony, there just a stones throw away from the manger. I could palpably feel tender Hope-eternal. My friend and I, I could see, were both still surrounded by His overshadowing grace. As I began a walk through a valley of a shadow of my own, I knew I could get to the other side.
I hugged my husband a little tighter, leaned in to the family that surrounded me. Even as my body suffered a loss, my heart gained by remembering what it still had. The children there with us, the family right beside us. There would be new lives and loves later, for both families. New additions, quite impossible without the losses.
But right there in that Christmas scene there was hope.
Every Christmas story has its own share of discomfort or questions, “could this possibly be it?” Not everything is the way that we planned it or hoped for or even expected. But everything happens for this reason. To birth something new in you.
I just want you to know, whether you’re in season of Hope or birth, loss or gain, mourning or dancing, you’re not alone. Because that baby who came in humility and humanity, He is there- for you.
Advent comes, CHRIST comes, surrounded by some unpleasant circumstances or unforeseen obstacles.
He comes to grieving hearts and aching minds. He comes when you can’t see up from down, right from wrong. He comes in the middle of the night. when you’re all alone or smudged in a messy middle, wondering what happened, where your dreams went and disappeared to. He still comes. That Christ child. He still comes. For you.
And as annoying or crazy as it sounds, I can’t shake the feeling of this.. remember to look around, and see the love that surrounds you now. The friends, family, angels and miracles that surround you there right now. Still, just a stones throw away from grief and mangers, hope above hope He still comes.
It is a time, Christmas, where in the natural, we are wrapping up presents, untangling lights and trim. Hanging up cheer, spreading joyful expectation like garland. It’s chaotic and lovely, lively and a bit maddening, all at once. There is even more emotion than decoration- and that’s saying a lot. Even as we bustle and hustle, tying up loose ends with hands and plans. in our hearts and spirits, there is a different invitation.
To unwrap.
See, we use ropes and ribbon, purse strings, heart strings, all year round. We tie and bind, cut and loose, based on emotions and feedback. We trim and let go based on performance or lack thereof. We use earthly bindings and chords and associations to tie us to what we like or what we think or what we think we want. Those have limitations all their own, though. Too harsh, too loose, too narrow sighted. Not strong enough, too entirely suffocating.
FREE THE GIFTS
In a season of wrapping and ribbons, remember what the real gifts are. Time, no matter how it’s spent. Love, no matter what it looks like. Service, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel. People, real live gifts, that aren’t meant to be tied like packages, tamed according to our opinions, tangled up in what we think. We aren’t meant to be either.
When you give a gift this season, anytime really, let it be one of less pressure. Less pressure for the recipient to perform or provide back for you a certain way or with a certain response. Untangle people from needing to give you what it is you want.
Cut the chord, and see your dissatisfaction fall to the wayside. Like a ribbon that’s been cut, freeing the actual gift. You thought your hopes and dreams came tied up with the ribbons and wrappings of expectation. You realize now that those ribbons were only holding it down. Your expectation of what made something beautiful was only holding it back, holding back the gift.
When we take the pressure off the wrappings, we better enjoy the presents. We are meant to have a more heavenly attachment, anyway. One which supplies, satisfies and supersedes any earthly one.
This is a season of untangling and uniting. Untangling old ties, breaking broken records, tossing out old tethers, forgetting opinions, even if they were yours. Where we’ve allowed what other people think to be more important than what God thinks. Where we allowed what we think to be more important than what God thinks. When we got caught up in all of the ribbons and bows.
There is a better way.
I used to be a great wrapper. I even did it professionally for a season. Long after that foray, I would buy the best paper the day after Christmas at a local boutique. I would dress the next years presents in all of the best colors, matching these, pretty tags and bows.
Now I’m grateful if I get it all wrapped in time, labeled with a pen and maybe slapped with a bow, just hoping to keep Santa’s paper straight. I could feel guilt for the lack of lovely. But I firmly and decidedly do not. I will not be guilted by last decades priorities. I will not spend extra time wrapping up presents, not when I’m so busy really enjoying them.
I’m in a season not only of not just wrapping up gifts, but untangling them. The pressure is not on presenting or wrapping up the gifts to look a certain way. The focus is instead, on taking the pressure off. And enjoying it more.
It is also most importantly. a time and season- and forever may it remain- for attaching myself more to Him, and less to other things. Less to earthly expectations or any man’s opinion, including my own. To enjoy the earthly gifts He’s given, to unwrap them and free them, while still placing in Him only my Hope and expectation. To search for the Heavenly gifts, uncover them, and be less concerned with earthly ones.
When you care less for ribbons and bows, what people say and think, and attach yourself more to Him, you free your whole self from earthly pressures and entanglements. You become more tied nto heavily ties. The kind that free you to fly, more loose than you imagined, more safely held than any man made structure.
Take the pressure off your earth relationships. Lean on your Heavenly one.
Be entangled to Him. HE will work out what needs to be. He will untangle out hearts from unmet unseen unknown unrealized expectations. Untethered, HE will binds us together in PERFECT unity. When Christ means more, Christ means everything.
Be free to be bound, only to the most perfect gift. Him. Then you can enjoy all that He has to give.
I’ve been thinking a lot this advent about how Christ slipped into the world mostly unnoticed. How He came to be, cloaked in darkness, in a womb of a woman who couldn’t see or understand. There were no ultrasounds that confirmed it, not pictures that showed His baby frame. She carried a promise that no one understood. When He was born most people didn’t even hear the news or know of His advent. His birth. His coming. I mentioned that to my kids on a night walk recently, looking at Christmas lights and enjoying the season. “When Jesus came and was born that night, practically no one knew it.” Everything had changed, but Most people didn’t know yet.
His family welcomed him of course. The angels rejoices. We know the shepherds had heard the good news. The wise men had noticed something, wondered and wandered, to find him later, too. (Their journey actually took a while.)
“I wonder if the animals really knew when they looked at Him. Do you think they sensed it?” I wondered aloud a different time, at the kitchen sink this time.
Who else? The inn keeper? Not likely. It’s possible though.
Herod heard. He heard and he hated the thought of him. He waged a war and raged against this baby. A baby that might usurp him.
Did anyone else sense this change, this advent, this coming? There may have been some stray characters that knew or saw or sensed.
Did anyone hear the angels sing, only to dismiss it because it “couldn’t be”. “Everyone must have seen the giant star of Bethlehem! It was huge,” the kids exclaimed another time. They’re probably right. Many probably saw it. But did those that did know what it meant when they saw it? Later, perhaps?
When He was born there was no crown on His head. When He died there appeared to be a crown of shame there instead. From His birth to His death, there were people who saw Him, some who recognized Him, those who misunderstood Him, and some people missed Him altogether.
The thought is so…. amazing.
Because it begs the question. What do I? Do I hear the sings of advent that are around me? Do I hear what heaven says, what a song of redemption it sings? Of Love come? Do I see the light that is shining so brightly in the darkness? Or is it all lost in the dull quiet of day or the monotony of just another endless night sky? Do I notice?
Do I hear His coming, do I honor His birth? Do I see this mystery, while a sleeping world looks the other way? Am I awake enough to know? That THIS is the life that changed everything. That Christ indeed was born. And that here, in the stable of my heart, in the manger of my mind, my whole life comes to stand before him. And then what? What does one do in response to that kind of love?
That’s entirely up to you. Wise men still search Shepherds still bow. Angels still sing. There are gifts to bring. The best gift is you.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love. 