“We are so busy!” That’s the general consensus amongst the people I spend time with the most. If you ask how they’re doing, you may get “Fine!” or “Boy, these allergies are killing me!” but a frequently repeated refrain is about how hectic their schedules are. Work, kids, and other obligations so often keep us hopping. Some, maybe even most, of what creates these busy lifestyles are legitimate responsibilities, but I can’t help but wonder if my inability to slow down is because I’ve created a monster, a Must Keep Moving Monster.   It’s like I’m the human equivalent of a concrete truck. If you’ve ever watched that drum mixer constantly rotating as the truck makes its way to a job site, then you know what I mean. Enroute to the destination, the spiral blades inside the drum churn the still-liquid mixture so that it stays the consistency of a chunky milkshake. Then when the truck arrives at the home or business in need of concrete, the blades are reversed so that the mixture gets sent down the chute. If the drum were to stop rotating too soon, the workers would have a difficult job cleaning out the hardened mess.   While that’s an ingenious way to pour a foundation, it’s not a healthy way for me to live. Just like I wouldn’t survive long inside that drum mixer, my body, mind, and soul need to seek out opportunities when I can just stop moving from time to time. This Monster which I’ve created has convinced me that if I dare to pause I’ll be confronted with a nightmarish mess.   There’s a word we see 74 times in the Bible, and 37 of those instances are found in writings from King David. To be honest, it’s a word I usually just skip over with no notice when I’m reading through the Psalms. It’s the word Selah . There’s some confusion about what this word means. Is it instruction for the singers, like forte or crescendo? Is it meant to divide sections of the text, to prepare the listeners for a transition in the emotions? When it comes at the end of a text, is it like our word Amen —a final “let it be so” we whisper at the close of a string of laments and petitions and praises? The answer to all these questions seems to be yes . This busy, little word does all of those things in our psalms, but Selah also encourages us to pause and listen. It reminds us to lift up the words of the psalms that we’re singing.   As we enter into this new season, a time of beauty and growth, let’s get out of our routines of constant motion and instead prioritize rest. I’m trying to be aware of how I spend my minutes, not because I need to be more efficient with my time, but because I need to slow down. I need to stop feeling the need to be entertained (I’m looking at you, cellphone!), and spend a few glorious moments each day basking in mindless boredom. Now that I think about it, that’s usually when the epiphanies come to me. My A-ha ’s usually coincide with my Ho-hum ’s.   If you want to try this, too, here’s a good starting spot to get your brain in the Selah mode. Psalm 143:5-6 says, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.  Selah. ”

I have this memory from when I was little of holding a heavy rectangular paperweight in my hand, staring through the thick slab of wavy glass to read these words beneath: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I don’t know why that memory keeps popping into my mind or where that paperweight is or, come to think of it, why paperweights are a thing in the first place. I mean, who’s doing paperwork in such windy places that they need a pound of glass to hold their piles of paper in place anyway?   But thinking of that paperweight and that verse makes me think of my mom. While her mind continues to weaken from the effects of Alzheimer’s disease, she shows me a strength I wasn’t expecting. Last week, we sat in her living room and performed her favorite activity—singing from the hymn book. Though she can’t remember who I am and she can no longer read, she can recall the words to at least the first verse and chorus of so many sacred songs.   Her wholehearted singing is enthusiastic when she spreads her hands palms-up and sings, “He is my everything/He is my all/He is my everything/Both great and small.” Her voice is plaintive and serious when she sings, “Abide with me: fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide. When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”   Though we hate that her mind is slowly subtracting her from us, we try to look on the bright side. We’re grateful that for the most part, the disease hasn’t made her angry or scared. She’s pleasant and happy to see anyone who stops by for a visit (this includes birds at the backyard bird feeder). She’s sees beauty everywhere, often colors and shapes swirling around just beyond her reach that we can’t see but bring her such joy.   When I’m at her house, she compliments me nonstop—my appearance, my singing, and any other thing I say or do. (To be honest, I did do a really good job setting her glass of orange juice on the TV tray, so her effusive praise of that act makes perfect sense.) She doesn’t remember about war or crime or taxes, so she doesn’t seem to have a worry in the world. She has little appetite, so she’s not thinking about her next meal. She’s unconcerned about her appearance, positively delighted to wear one of my dad’s polo shirts as if it were her Sunday best. The one thing she asks for is usually to go to bed once it gets dark.   In some ways, it’s as if all of her thoughts have been boiled down into one concentrated thing—loving on the person in front of her right now. It’s like that paperweight and the distortion caused by the glass when I looked through it. So many things were in the way of really reading that truth, but for her, at least in this one way at this specific time, the glass has been shattered.   When the Apostle Paul wrote those words about finding strength through his faith in Philippians 4, he wasn’t talking about something from the Marvel Universe. This wasn’t Captain America or the Hulk saying, “I have super powers! I can do ALL things!” The key to this verse is in the previous verses where Paul said he knew the secret of being content, whether in times of need or in times of plenty. That secret is relying on Christ. In tough times, I can also cling to this same time-worn promise: “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

A friend of mine told me about an interesting thought experiment at dinner recently. She said to imagine I was holding a fresh lemon in my hand. She encouraged me to think about the texture and the weight of the fruit. Then she instructed me to imagine the process of cutting the lemon into fourths, smelling its sharp sourness and feeling the juice splash up onto my fingers. Next, I was told to pick up an imaginary piece of the lemon and taste it. When the experiment is done correctly, the subject often begins to salivate and finds that she can actually taste the lemon juice, even though it’s not there.   From a psychological aspect, this experiment demonstrates the power of our minds, specifically how internal imagery can affect our physical reality. This idea of internal and external imagery is a popular notion, especially amongst athletes who struggle with perfecting a particular skill in their sports. Famed golfer Jack Nicklaus has used this method to improve his game. He said,  “I never hit a shot, not even in practice, without having a very sharp, in-focus picture of it in my head. First I see the ball where I want it to finish, nice and white and sitting up high on the bright green grass. Then the scene quickly changes, and I see the ball going there; its path, trajectory, and shape, even its behavior on landing. Then there is a sort of fade-out, and the next scene shows me making the kind of swing that will turn the previous images into reality.”   His process is particularly remarkable considering that Nicklaus contracted polio when he was 13. Doctors initially thought he had the flu, but his rapid weight loss and achy joints led them to the conclusion that he, along with his younger sister, had the disease which parents across the world at that time feared most. His sister lost the ability to walk for about a year, but he mostly recovered after a few weeks, though he has said, “ My whole career, my joints have gotten awfully sore at times.” Eighteen professional major championships and 73 PGA Tour victories later, his methods and dedication to hard work have paid off. You could argue that his early setbacks coupled with his strong ability to imagine his success has led to his actual triumphs.   Believe it or not, the Apostle Paul had similar advice when he wrote to the Christians in Philippi. He said, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Thousands of years before Jack Nicklaus picked up a golf club, Paul was underlining the power of our thoughts to affect our actions.   Of course, Paul wasn’t advising them on their backswing. He was telling them how to achieve what he had instructed a few verses earlier in Philippians 4. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”   Paul was telling them to do something much more difficult than taste an imaginary lemon. He was saying that despite our difficulties, we should rejoice. He was telling them to be gentle and not riddled with anxiousness. (A tall order for anyone but especially for a marginalized, persecuted community like this church in the Roman colony of Philippi.) That’s why we have to “think about such things,” not to ignore the injustices of the world, but to spend considerable brain energy on the people we can only be with God’s help through His Spirit. Then, as we read at the end of verse 9, we can “put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Back in 2019, there was a battle you won’t read about in any American history textbooks. It was the battle of the best chicken sandwich. The fast food restaurant, Popeyes, introduced a chicken sandwich to rival Chick-Fil-A and other similar fast food establishments. (Side note: I just found out that there’s no apostrophe in the name Popeyes . According to my research, restaurant founder Alvin Copeland said he was too poor to afford that little punctuation mark to make the name possessive. I think he was kidding. I also found out that the name originally didn’t have anything to do with the cartoon muscle-man Popeye the Sailor Man. I guess that tracks since I don’t remember canned spinach on their menu, and we all know that was Popeye’s secret weapon.)   With a well-placed tweet campaign, the chicken sandwich went viral, leading Popeyes to boast an increase of 103% in traffic in the days after the sandwich was first advertised. Many locations would sell out before all of the customers in the long lines could receive their orders. There was even a report about a man in Maryland who was stabbed to death in an altercation about line-cutting in those crazy late summer, chicken sandwich days of 2019.   Driving down Memorial Boulevard back then, I witnessed those long lines for the Popeyes drive-thru, but I was too cynical to believe a sandwich was worth that kind of wait, so I drove on. I’m not saying that makes me smarter than the customers who waited for the chicken, but I am less fun in that respect. I’m assuming they were probably just hopping onto a mostly harmless viral trend. I doubt any of them were really expecting that sandwich to change their lives. Years later, we’ve all moved on to other fads and celebrity influencers, and there will be more to come in the future, but I start to wonder if I’m willing to pursue anything with that type of dogged enthusiasm. Where am I going to plant my feet and stick my flag in the ground, saying This is of utmost importance to me ?   The word seek is used 143 times in the NIV Bible, such as in Psalm 34:14, “Turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” That sounds like my call to action, but how do I know which way to go? With Isaiah 5:20-21 rolling around in my head, I know I can’t just go running in any old direction following any fool with the loudest voice and best soundbites. The Lord told Isaiah, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight.” And to balance out all that running around, we see that wait is mentioned 129 times, like Psalm 27:14, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”   So how can I be sure what I’m pursuing and waiting for is really worth it? Wealth, attention, comforts, my physical body—all of this will fade away. Although the temporary pleasures of this world can be a blessing, my #1 pursuit should last longer than a chicken sandwich. Isaiah 40 tells us: “All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field…The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” This is it! Something that lasts forever and comes from a Father who puts the apostrophe- s before my name.

Like most people, I love a good story. The drama, the conflict, the resolution, the self-questioning of “what would I do in that situation?” And there’s no better place to look for good stories than in the Bible. It’s got everything—romance and betrayal, good guys and bad guys, peaceful leaders and blood-stained battlefields and mind-blowing miracles. Another thing the Bible has a lot of is people. There are more than 3,000 unique names in the Bible, with just somewhere around 200 of those names belonging to women.   That’s one of the reasons why the names mentioned in Exodus 1 are so very interesting. Allow me to set the scene: The Israelite people have been in Egypt for 430 years, originally as Pharaoh’s invited guests, but eventually as cruelly treated slaves. Those in power saw that the Israelite population was growing so they made their lives even harder, forcing them to join massive labor forces to construct building projects which benefitted only Egyptian society’s most elite as they honored gods and pharaohs. Verse 12 says, “But the more the Israelites were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread; so the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites and worked them ruthlessly.”    So Pharaoh sent for the Hebrew midwives, two women named Shiphrah and Puah, and gave them a specific directive. He told them, “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.”    Undoubtedly, Shiphrah and Puah were afraid when they went before the king of Egypt, the highest representative of the land. They could’ve obeyed this evil command and killed the babies they were charged to protect and nurture, but then their names would’ve been lost to us forever. There would have been no reason to record their story. Instead, they feared God more than anything Pharaoh could do to them.   When Pharaoh called the women back and asked them why they had let the baby boys live, Shiphrah and Puah did something that is normally frowned upon in Scripture. They lied. They said, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” These midwives applied what they knew of God, their compassionate Creator who values life, and used that lens to interpret how to proceed, even if that meant going against what Pharoah had demanded them to do. Their decision to disobey Pharaoh came from a desire to obey God. And we know that God agreed with their choice because verses 20-21 say, “So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own.”   There’s been extra focus lately on how strictly believers should follow the commands set out by our earthly leaders, how much we’re allowed to question our government. Regardless of which side we might choose to vote in an election, if we claim to daily take up our cross and follow Jesus, we have to choose compassion. The world is watching.   So let’s remember Shiphrah and Puah as we meditate on the psalmist’s words: “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?”

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cain_and_Abel,_15th_century.jpg Reading through the Bible every year for several years in a row, you’d think I’d retain more of what’s written in this all-important book, but this practice never fails to reveal something new. For instance, a few weeks ago we read the story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4. In the story, Cain kills his brother Abel out of jealousy after Abel brings the better offering to God. God sees what happened and calls to Cain, asking him a question which He already knows the answer to, “Cain, where is your brother?”   Cain replies in a defensive, guilty way, “I don’t know. What am I, my brother’s keeper?” (Really smooth, Cain, not suspicious at all, buddy.) Then the Lord explains Cain’s punishment. He says, “ Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.”   Considering that this is the first murder in the Bible, I feel like having to do yard work is a very lenient and merciful price to pay, but what really stood out to me on this pass through Scripture was Cain’s response. He’s not so much worried about the hard labor, but the hard labor away from the Lord’s presence. He says to God, “My punishment is more than I can bear. Today you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth, and whoever finds me will kill me.” Cain knew for a fact that his everything—his abundance, his safety, his peace—came from the Lord, and now he doesn’t know how to survive away from God. He just assumes that outside of God’s presence, he would face life-threatening danger.   But the Lord had a contingency plan for Cain’s would-be attackers. He told Cain that anyone who tries to kills him would suffer greatly, seven times greater than what they had meted out on him. Then God did something that has baffled generations. Verse 15 says, “Then the Lord put a mark on Cain so that no one who found him would kill him.” We don’t know what this mark was or how it communicated so effectively that Cain’s life was out of bounds, but since God did it, we know it worked.   Reading on, we see that Cain “went out from the Lord’s presence and lived in the land of Nod, east of Eden.” He left the vicinity of relative safety (I mean, it wasn’t perfect. Abel was murdered there), and he went on to build a life in a place which means wandering .   Another interesting way to think about Cain’s punishment and this mysterious mark is to compare it with the preceding chapter and Cain’s parents’ sin. When God questioned them after they had eaten of the forbidden tree, God knew what had happened but He allowed the First Couple to spin their own version of events. As with Cain, God also punished them by kicking them out of the place where they felt most safe, this time the Garden of Eden. But He didn’t send them away without protection. Genesis 3:21 says, “The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them.”   I was recently watching a documentary about the Revolutionary War. In it, they described the practice of branding a person’s right thumb to show they had been convicted of a crime when this had been their first offense. So if someone was caught stealing, and their thumb had a “T” seared into the skin, it could be assumed that this was a repeat crime. Whether they never stole again, they had been branded with a mark that would forever define them.   Ephesians 1 spells out a different kind of mark. Not one of shame or condemnation, but a mark of ownership. “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession.” Or as The Message states it, “You found yourselves home free—signed, sealed, and delivered by the Holy Spirit. This down payment from God is the first installment on what’s coming, a reminder that we’ll get everything God has planned for us, a praising and glorious life.” Oh, I’m so grateful that God called dibs on my life and marked me as His own!

A  few weeks ago, my husband got us tickets to see a live Christmas show at the historic Ryman Theater. I’m a huge fan of Christmas music, making this a great gift. If you’re in Middle Tennessee, you can’t throw a steel guitar without hitting a super talented musician or two, so, as you might assume, this was a stage full of Music City pros.   Pretty quickly into the show, even with all that was happening on the crowded stage, my attention was nearly consumed by the half-a-dozen backup singers, harmonizing and swaying and snapping their fingers in unison behind the main act.   I’m not much of a bucket list kind of person, but I have to admit that were I to have such a list, “perform as a backup singer” would be near the top. I’m fascinated by them. I get sweaty just thinking about standing alone in the center of a spotlight, but I could easily visualize myself in that background role standing with other singers. Though I’m famously uncoordinated, I think I could—with some practice, mind you—get the snap , step , snap , step sequence down without completely embarrassing myself. They also often wear something black and slimming, so just another point in favor of the backup singer gig.   I’m not saying that the lead singer has an ego problem—everyone is gifted for something different—but as I was watching those background performers ooo and ahh to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” I started moralizing in my head about the backup singer mentality as an interesting philosophical question. (Needless to say, I’m a real fun concert date.)   Living with the mindset that you are ready and willing to encourage and be happy for others in their spotlight moments—those shining periods where they have something beautiful to celebrate—helps us follow part of Romans 12. “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another.” The compulsion to compete and compare instead of celebrate others’ good fortune will rob us of happily watching those we love fulfill their heart’s desires. It steals the joy we could be receiving if only we could set aside our own wishes and self-interest to live in harmony, that warm reverberation of sounds that happens when all the notes are swelling together in perfect agreement.   In his book Mere Christianity , C.S. Lewis gives this helpful advice: “As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”   Studying our national mood, I see a lot of disagreement and conflict. I see too many glaring spotlights and restricted stages for voices who only want to sow discord and deepen divisions. My prayer for this New Year is that we’ll see a rising trend toward promoting bridge-builders and peace-makers. I pray that “harmony” will be the word of the year, and people with real influence will endorse living selflessly, instead of giving tips for succeeding at the detriment of others.   Another quote from Mere Christianity haunts me with its clarity: “It is Pride which has been the chief cause of misery in every nation and every family since the world began.” Let’s choose to set aside our own pride and instead care about each other more. That would hit all the right notes to build a better community. I could ooo and aah to that tune every day!

Now that we’re in the middle of December, most of us are running around with long lists and busy plans and random dots of glitter speckling our cheeks which came from the many sparkly cards and ornaments lying around the house. It’s my favorite time of year, but with all the glittery rigamarole of the season, I have to remind myself of why I’m actually counting down the days until Christmas.   When I was growing up, my mother would hang up our Christmas stockings on December 1st. Ahead of time, she would fill each one with twenty-four items taped to twenty-four ribbons. Each ribbon was numbered 1-24, representing the days of December leading up to Christmas Day. We didn’t use the language of Advent, but that was kind of what we were doing. On December 1st, we would pull out the string with the number “one” on it. At the other end of the string, we would find a stick of gum, a tiny candy cane, a holiday pencil, a sticker, or a tube of chapstick. Even though the things we would pull out were fairly commonplace, we understood the effort and love behind the preparation. I knew exactly where she kept the sugar-free gum—in the basket by the microwave—and I could have chewed a piece whenever I wanted but knowing that my mom stayed up late November 30th to tape and cut and stuff made the whole experience special.   Now that I’m older, I understand more about this tradition of Advent, and how it goes deeper than just anticipating presents on Christmas morning. It’s about living a life of hopeful expectation. The word advent comes from Latin word meaning “coming” or “arrival.” We see a version of the word pop up in the New Testament and not just about the birth of Jesus, as glorious as that was. The Apostle Stephen talked about this predicted coming before he was stoned for his testimony. Jesus spoke about his own return and how he would arrive “as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west.” And Paul directed the believers to this promise of Christ’s arrival to encourage them in the dark days of their persecution.   Traditionally, the Advent season is divided into four weeks where we emphasize the themes of hope, peace, joy, and love—four gifts we can never give or get too much of. Living in a time between Christ’s comings—what some call the “Already and Not Yet”—it’s a time of waiting for something good, but it’s not supposed to be only a passive time. Though we have to live in a broken version of the creation God made for us, we aren’t meant to wallow in sorrow and despair. We’re given opportunities to joyfully help others, to show them love, to act as peacemakers, and to tell them our reason for hope, a hope which the prophet Isaiah described in this way: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”

I’m just not very creative. This is the phrase I often hear from friends. They see some amazing drawing or watch a skit at church and they make comparisons to their own lacking skills. Since they’re not particularly gifted musically or artistically, they feel like they don’t have much to offer in the creativity area. But God, the authority when it comes to creativity (crediting Him as the Creator of the Northern Lights and the Giant Sequoias and the duck-billed platypus), made each of us with something to offer. He made us in His image so that we could be creative, too. So our job is to find those possibly dormant abilities, give them a little room to breathe, and see what can be done for His glory. Consider the natural phenomenon of frost flowers. My friend Annie works at a nature center and she explained them this way: “Crystallofolia is a more scientific name. They occur when woody stemmed forbs, like milkweed, have thin layers of water in the stem that freeze and break through. The patterns are just due to the natural crystalline structure water produces in its mineral stage (or ice).” This commonplace undergrowth is perfectly positioned in wooded areas where no one—except for maybe a few bees and butterflies—pays much attention to it. Then the temperature drops. The specialized milkshake inside freezes and bursts out, creating magnificent, cascading beauty for those fortunate enough to find it. These frost flowers are what I picture when I think of those who say they aren’t creative. They don’t appreciate the value and substance of what lies within. For instance, I have a friend who admires my daughter’s ability to do fancy lettering and calligraphy. She wishes to be creative, but she already is. My friend can take loads of confusing information and lay it out on a spreadsheet where it will flow and make sense. She can organize a group of people so that they all understand what’s expected of them and give them support. She creates unity and organization. I have another friend who looks at my crochet projects and bemoans her lack of creativity. But, in reality, she creates something—though intangible—infinitely more important than a crocheted scarf or hat. This friend is an architect of connections. She checks on you when you mention you have a head cold. She asks about sick and struggling relatives. She remembers. Her creations come directly from her heart. Galatians 6:4-5 ( The Message ) – Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life. Photo Credit: Annie Holt #creativity #talents

There are a lot of great things about the holidays (aka, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years). It’s a season designed for time-honored traditions, contemplative reflection and showing generosity, and it all begins with an emphasis on thankfulness.   If you do a Google search for “thankful people in the Bible,” you get a few well-known names, such as the Apostle Paul and King David, men who professed their gratitude even in the midst of tragic circumstances. Another name in that list is the “Thankful Leper” in Luke 17.   In the story, Jesus was heading to Jerusalem when he encountered ten men who had leprosy. Before we get much further, let’s talk about leprosy in the Bible. You may still be finishing off those Thanksgiving leftovers, so I don’t want to get graphic, but what we think of as leprosy in the modern sense (now called Hansen’s Disease) may not be what they were experiencing at this time.   The term leprosy may refer to a lot of things and not all of them were physically contagious. In Leviticus—the book that describes the rules the Israelites needed to follow to be set apart as God’s people—the term leprosy is more of a “scaly skin disease.” It could refer to psoriasis, for instance, which isn’t contagious. Leviticus 13 and 14 talk about the rules and restrictions for someone with one of these defiling skin conditions. Those chapters go into a lot of detail, but to sum it up—you find a spot, you go to the priest, you’re pronounced unclean, then you take the steps to get clean before going back to the priest. The main urgency was to protect the people from ritual impurity, to keep their state of holiness intact so they would be worthy to worship.   Okay, back to the story…The ten men with leprosy stood at an appropriate distance from Jesus and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” When Jesus saw them, he was moved with compassion and said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And while they were going, they were cleansed. One of the men noticed his new state of cleanness and came back, “praising God in a loud voice.” The man fell down at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And here’s where we get a new detail…the thankful man was a Samaritan.   Jesus wondered aloud where the other nine men were, then he told the man, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” So for those of you keeping score at home, of the ten, the one man who came back to say “thank you” was actually a double outcast. He had a skin disease that made it socially unacceptable for him to be near people who didn’t share this same affliction. And he was also a Samaritan—the group of near-relatives and enemies of the Jews who were considered pagans. These ten lepers may have been a ragtag group made up of Jews and Samaritans. Hitting rock bottom can sometimes remove social barriers.   Jesus loves to make people rethink social norms. Just like when Jesus highlights the faith of other non-Jews during his ministry, He commends this healed and thankful man by saying, “Your faith has made you well.”   There are so many times when Jesus reaches out to the outcasts who are hurting, and when He offers them healing and salvation, their responses are often so joyful and so genuine. Going from the isolation that comes from sin and walking into the freedom of salvation is like stepping into sunshine from a dark and gloomy jail cell. How could you be anything but thankful?

A friend recently told me about taking a group of Texas teens to Nashville for a mission trip. As they sat outside at an evening devotional, the group became fascinated when one by one fireflies emerged from the grass and shrubbery to soar around the darkening sky. The majority of the mission team had never seen fireflies before. My friend showed them how to catch the insects without harming them and how to capture them in empty water bottles (from which they eventually released them). She told me that one of the girls in the group began to cry. The beauty of these tiny insects overwhelmed the Texas teen who’d never witnessed their brilliant dancing in her hot, dry hometown. As someone who has spent each and every summer in places where fireflies are common, I was amazed at their reaction. For me, it is a case of the extraordinary becoming ordinary through repetition and the assumption that it will always be there. Later that day, after I had told my family about my Texas friend’s story, my daughter was standing outside with a group of friends. Prompted by my friend’s experience, my daughter asked a guy who had just come to Middle Tennessee from another country if he had ever seen fireflies before. They were outside, so she pointed to the flying dots of light. “No,” he said. “I’ve never seen them before.” “Aren’t they awesome?” she asked. He shrugged, unimpressed. His reaction surprised me. Is he so accustomed to seeing strange insects that this particular species failed to astonish him? Is he so well-read about the cold light of bioluminescence that seeing this energy produced right in front of him left him unmoved? Whatever may be the reason for his indifference, it’s a cautionary tale for me. I don’t want to be a person who loses the wonder. I don’t want awesome to turn into boredom . And if you’re thinking that it can’t happen to you, beware. The Israelites had seen amazing things in the land of Egypt: the Nile turned to blood, three days of total darkness, a river that was split for them to march through just in the nick of time. And yet, they complained that the manna—their food which fell from the sky—just wasn’t tasty enough. “We don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but this bread that we’ve been gathering every day just isn’t cutting it anymore. We know that all we have to do is pick it up from the ground and eat it, and don’t get us wrong—it was great…at first—but we could really go for a hamburger. Actually, a cheeseburger would be even better.” How could they have lost the wonder so quickly? Who has the nerve to complain to a God who had produced these miracles? I wish I could say that I’m always in the “Awe Zone,” but it isn’t true. I forget to be grateful, forget to see how far He’s carried me, forget how I didn’t get here on my own, just forget. So when I look at those fireflies, at least for this summer, I’ll remember the wonder.

When your first baby is actually a set of twins, you figure out pretty quickly that it’s going to be difficult to create one-on-one time with them. At least that was the case for us. We had our twin daughters first, followed by our older son three years later. Then our youngest son came to us nearly 11 years after big brother was born. I was able to have those moments with my boys—grocery shopping trips, bike rides, ordinary weekdays—while their older siblings were in school, but it was different with my daughters. Early on, my husband carved out little outings with them so that they could have solo time with dad. Sometimes he would take them to get ice cream or to look at puppies at the pet store, just an hour basking in his undivided attention. Now that they are all older, and our schedules are color-coded and overlapping and busy, it’s a lot harder. And since our daughters are fully into their senior year of high school, time feels extra precious. That’s part of what made this last weekend so great. My husband and I took one of our daughters on a college visit out of state. It was only a 48-hour trip with about 12 of those hours spent on the road, but it was just the three of us so that made it special. (For those of you who are keeping score and wanting to call us out on preferential treatment of one twin over another, we made a similar trip with our other daughter last year, only it wasn’t as far away so we didn’t have to make overnight accommodations. Sometimes it’s impossible to be fair in all things, but we try. When my kids ask me which of them is my favorite, I always say it’s the one who is emptying the dishwasher.) We took a tour of the campus and filled out paperwork. Even though we didn’t attend this particular university, my husband and I were prompted by familiar sights and sounds to impart some wisdom from the other side of the college experience. We advised our daughter on things like dorm life, class loads, post-high school dating and cafeteria meals. We told her stories from our college days so many years ago and yet still mostly relevant. It took a lot of coordinating with our other kids and help from a friend to get away from all of the commitments back at home, but it was what we needed to do for this daughter at this time, and it filled up this mom’s tank with some good memories to shore me up for next year when she’ll be six hours away. Whether you have kids or not, there is no replacement for good quality time with those precious souls who are most important to you. If you’ve been wavering on going away on a trip with your people—be it best girlfriends or out-of-town cousins or your spouse—let this be your wake-up call. Jump in the car and go, then generously spend your most valuable currency: your time.