“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

Mahatma Gandhi

So, how has the first month of the New Year named 2012 gone for you thus far?

Did you make any resolutions which are still intact? Did you make any which are hanging on by the slimmest of threads? Did you make any resolutions which have since fallen along the side of the roadway of best intentions?

What personal habits or behaviors in your life—which you needed to change—have you changed?

What needs in your family and community—which needed to be addressed—have you addressed?

What problems, turmoil, heartaches or injustices in the world—which need to be fixed—have you fixed or attempted to fix?

You know, I’m not sure any of those questions are fair to pose upon any of us. I mean, we all know that life itself is tough enough—morning until night—finishing each day by sliding into bed exhausted. I mean, just the daily living of life is always full-to-the-brim and fast-paced enough as it is by itself. And then to attempt to add anything else onto that journey in the way of time-consuming personal adjustments, or additional family responsibilities, or concerns within the community, nation or world—well it’s just too much to even think about, let alone do anything about.

At the end of it all while we are here, it will be what it is. Our lives will have left an imprint, in some form or fashion, on the world and on the lives around us. In some cases, it will be none at all—while those lives which could have been better or been lifted by us to the sunshine of a brighter day—well it will be as if we never lived. In some cases our imprint will be negligible at best and may be remembered as perhaps having made the slightest of differences if one looks closely enough. And, in some cases, the imprint we leave will have God smiling brightly upon all we have done and the lives who are better because we have lived. I wonder what it will be.

As we move into the next month of this New Year—and who knows how many more—it might do us all well to think about the sentiments expressed by the lyrics of the song “To Believe” by Matthew Evancho—

Before I lay me down to rest I ask the Lord one small request

I know I have all I could need,

But this prayer is not for me

Too many people on this day don’t have a peaceful place to stay

Let all fighting cease that your children many see peace

Wipe their tears of sorrow away.

To believe—in a day

When all hunger and war will pass away

To have hope amidst despair, that every sparrow’s counted

That you hear each cry and listen to each prayer

Let me try always to believe,

That we can hear the hearts that grieve

Please help us not ignore the anguished cries of the poor

Or their pain will never cease

To believe—in a day

When all hunger and war will pass away

To have hope amidst despair, that every sparrow’s counted

Help us do Your will oh Father, in the name of all that’s true

And we’ll see in one another the loving image of You.

And why not believe it can happen now? Why not let it begin now? Why not let the change we want to see in the world around us, begin with you, and begin with me, now?

Looking from this point forward, if you could change anything in your personal life (or within your personal sphere of influence)—what would it be?

Have you changed it yet? Have I?

Looking from this point forward, if you could change anything in the world (an injustice, poverty, famine, war, spreading the Gospel, child abuse and exploitation)—what would it be?

Have you changed it yet? Have I?

I pray that our answers will always be “yes.”

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2012. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

P.S. The link to the song “To Believe” written by Matthew Evancho, and sung by his niece, Jackie Evancho, is pasted below. You will be both blessed and inspired as you listen:

http://videos2view.net/2believe-JE.htmm

“The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever—do not abandon the works of your hands.” Psalm 138:8 (NIV)

One month into the New Year with King David, and you and me.

Hold that thought for a moment, because first, I want you to do something for me, and for yourself.

Right where you are now, take a look at your fingertips—not just the chapped skin or chipped nails from the cold weather—but look closely at the whorls and lines on the inner surface of the last joint of your finger. We learned the truth in grade-school that our fingerprints are unique to each of us—no one else has the same pattern of whorls or lines. Now work your way down to the palms of your hands, looking closely at the configuration of lines and markings you see there. Stop for a moment and think about this truth—what you just saw is unique—no one else in the world, now or ever, has or had what you just saw.

Okay. Keep going. Look at your wrist, forearms and arms. Thin wrist, or thick, or somewhere in between. Shoulders. Chest. Stomach. Hips. Legs. Ankles. All the way down to your feet and toes. Same truth for you to embrace: that no one else—now or ever—has or had what you just saw. Now there is something about that truth which screams—“Special”—“The Very Best There Is”—“A Gloriously Perfect Child of God.”

Yet if you have had some of the same experiences which I have—even perhaps during this past week—it seems clear that the world doesn’t see you, or me, that way. Because if they did, the world would cherish each of us the way the God Who created us does. But instead we too often get put down by others, or we—think about this for a moment now, especially as it may apply to our spouses or children—put others down ourselves. And God’s voice from above which is whispering: “Special, or Best, Perfect, A Child of God”, is drowned out in the chorus of boos, criticism and put-downs from the world around us.

It may all be unintended. Comments, facial expressions, a tone of voice, ignoring you over others. I’ve been guilty of all of those, and I have been the recipient of all of those. You have, too.

Perhaps it’s our circumstances that we allow to put us down. Others seem to be dressed better than we are, or seem more in control than we, are more polished, have better jobs or more money, a nicer home or cars. And people around them seem to be attracted to them, while we stand against the wall wishing this moment in public would end, or that someone who loves us—anyone—would come to rescue and affirm us.

Perhaps it’s our past track record which we allow to put us down. As our feet hit the floor each morning, all we can remember are the problems and mistakes of yesterday, and the criticisms of others. All we seem to remember is our last failure at school, or at work, or in an interaction with our children. You wonder—as you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth—if you will ever get it right. The failures and mistakes—you just can’t seem to shake them from the present back into the past where they belong.

Now before you brush your teeth, look at yourself again in that mirror in front of you. Look deeper, past the mussed hair, wrinkles sleep-filled eyes. Past the uniqueness of the way you look on the outside we just rediscovered. Look deeper this time, into the feelings, passions, abilities, talents, desires, gifts that are within you—or which you believe are within you. See them? Keep looking, you will. See them, now?

Good. Then here’s another truth: No one has the same potential, the same gifts, abilities, passions, desires, talents, platforms, or intended purposes which you have—no one. You were wired, created, formed and sent forth by God like no one else—to do what no one else can or is supposed to do.

Now back to King David. A few thousand years ago, David—a shepherd boy anointed by God as King—committed adultery and murder. The Psalms he wrote thereafter—like the one set out above—reflected those past deeds, and the guilt, anguish and undeserving feelings he had for the position he continued to occupy. But they also reflected God’s grace, God’s enduring love and forgiveness for David—and for you and for me. Corrected, redirected and loved by his God and ours, David moved on to lead the people of Israel.

Just like you and me.

We are unique—on both the outside and inside. Uniquely created by the God who knew what the world would be like when we lived and knew what the world would need when we lived. Not perfect and as a result there will be times when we fall short—and where the grace of the God who created us will pick us back up and send us back out. The same God who is always busy creating and placing within each of us unique gifts, passions, abilities, talents, potential, desires, platforms and purposes of our lives, so that we might become all He intended for us to be.

Now here’s a final truth to embrace: With the God of all creation behind us, and with all that He put within us, who or what do you think can put us down or keep us from becoming all He intended for us to be?

You’re right—no one can and nothing will!

Now go and be all He created you to be!

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2013. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.”

Philippians 3: 13-14 (The Message)

A new cold front whipped through the area this weekend bringing with it temperatures in the twenties and the need to drip water from our outside water faucets. Our youngest Granddaughter was with us yesterday and requested that a fire be built in the fireplace and that we make s’mores together. Perfect for a wintry day.

Watching her snuggle around the warmth of the crackling fire, with our tiny rescue dog, and eating her graham cracker, marshmallow & chocolate treat reminded me very clearly, once again, what life is about, and what it’s not about.

It’s not about doing.

It’s about trying.

It’s not about winning.

It’s about how you play.

It’s not about how much money you make.

It’s about how you made it, and what you do with it afterwards.

It’s not about how many ladders you’ve climbed.

It’s about which ladders you climbed, and how you climbed them.

It’s not about your image to others in the world.

It’s about your influence, and how you treat others in the world.

It’s not about reaching a goal.

It’s about reaching the right goal.

It’s not about an end result.

It’s about the journey and relationships along the way.

It’s not about you.

It’s about what you do with “you.”

Once more, it’s not about you.

It’s about Him. All about Him.

The contrast is clear between the messages we receive from the world around us—a world which is always focused on doing—and those messages from above that resonate within us in our quieter moments when we are about the things that feel right—moments like sitting in front of the fireplace with our Granddaughters.

In this world we crown national champions, celebrate Super Bowl, Academy Award and Golden Globe winners, worry over stock markets, applaud achievement not really knowing how it was achieved, and bow at the altars of wealth, and fame and things. We pay homage to messages like “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”, “bigger is better”, “more is preferable to less”, “don’t just try, do”, or the infamous “Just do it!”

It’s no wonder our children may be confused at times as to what to do with their lives, and why many of us older and wiser ones seem to find ourselves bouncing in and out of moments of excitement and despondency.

The message of the world is that it is all about us and what we do. And what we do next and next and next to be successful. It’s about things external. About doing and achieving. But it’s hard to find any short or long-term warmth, lasting comfort, stability, assurance or more importantly—direction—in those worldly messages.

The message that is missed in all of that is this—God is at work in our lives in the trying. God is at work in our lives all along in the journey. He is always within us. Always at work internally—if we allow Him to be—in the journey of our lives. He is always at work helping us along the way to become all whom He intended for us to be. Helping us to decide which “ladders to climb” and which goals to reach for, encouraging us and applauding us in our trying and strivings, and smiling down on us when we play the “games” to honor and glorify Him.

The scripture passage above points out that Paul realized it was about reaching out for Christ. All the other stuff was rubbish. He realized it was about keeping his eye on the goalGod was calling him to—Christ. It was a calling for him to become more like Christ in every way and during every day.

That’s the message and that’s the journey that will provide the warmth, the comfort, and the eternal assurance and clear direction for here and hereafter. It’s a message that calls us to make time for s’mores with our Granddaughters in front of a crackling fire on a cold wintry day. It’s a message where we find the direction to know what life is about and what it’s not about.

Start with Him, reach out for Christ, today and every day for the rest of your life.

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2012. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“Everything in the world is about to be wrapped up, so take nothing for granted…Most of all, love each other as if your life depended on it.” 1 Peter 4: 7, 8 (The Message)

Lynda’s visit to the doctor ten days ago revealed the onset of pneumonia. Then she had some minor surgery. She’s doing better, and the hope is that with a bit more rest now that the busy and wonderful holiday season is behind us, she will continue to improve.

My latest visit to the doctor of a few weeks before that gave no indication of any problem or concern. The usual blood tests were on the good side of the normal range. My doctor—a great guy—couldn’t put his professionally trained finger on any particular problem, but as I sat there talking with him that day it hit me once again that I was dying.

It was a bit unnerving to say the least. And I need your prayers.

I may have six months to live, or less. I may have a year, or more. But whatever time is left, I now know that it’s not forever. My Bride, Lynda, and I don’t talk about it, but I know we have both thought about it at times, especially in the forty-fourth year of our marriage. I suspect some of you—if you’re really honest with yourselves—have been in the same place with your own thoughts and lives.

So here’s how I would like for you to pray for me today.

In the words of a song by country and western singer, Tim McGraw, pray that in the time I have left on this earth, I would—“Live like I am dying.” They are words he wrote and sang to his dad. Words he hoped his dad would have wanted to have said to him. His dad was major league baseball pitcher Tug McGraw, and Tim never really got to know him when, until very late in life when they discovered that his dad had less than a year to live.

Listen to those song words with me, which Tim wrote as if sung by a dad who finally realized all that he missed in life and in moments missed with his son and others:

“I was in my early forties, with a lot of life before me,

And a moment came that stopped me on a dime”—

And I asked him—‘When did it sink in that this might really be the real end,

Man what did you do?’

He said—‘I finally became the husband that most of the time I wasn’t, and—

I became a friend—a friend would like to have,

I finally read the Good Book—and took a good, long, hard look

At what I’d do if I could do it all again, and then—

I went sky diving, I went Rocky Mountain climbing,

I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu,

And I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter,

And I gave the forgiveness I’d been denying.

And then he said—‘Someday I hope you get the chance,

To live like you are dying.’”

It was a sobering moment for me at during that visit to the doctor a few weeks ago. To realize that I’m dying. But the truth is that I am dying. I always have been. We all are. And we have no assurances as to when we will take that last breath here on earth. Today, tomorrow, sometime later. As for me, there is nothing pointing to anything that is specifically wrong. I may have six months to live, or less; perhaps a year, perhaps more.

I just don’t know.

And you don’t know either.

But what we do know is that we’re not getting any younger. We know we don’t have forever in this life, and the moments which we have and we too often let pass us by, won’t usually circle back around for a second chance. Despite our good intentions, our best efforts, and varied accomplishments to this point, there are still things we’ve always wanted to do, and many more we should have done long ago—still waiting to be done.

There are people I should have forgiven long ago, who remain un-forgiven. There are people from whom I should seek forgiveness, still waiting to be asked. Lives I should love and touch which are still unloved and untouched. There are adventures to begin, mountains to climb, bulls to ride, books to read, careers to strike out on, family and friends to cherish—still not done and still looming before me in the days I have left before I step into eternity.

I suspect there are some of you reading this who would say you wouldn’t do anything differently if you knew a time certain when your life on earth would end.

I wonder.

Because I suspect, even you would notice in those last days—that your food tasted sweeter, the breezes seemed softer, the woman you love seems more beautiful and precious, your husband is much better and more patient than you ever gave him credit for, the children you raised and those you’ve adopted as in-laws, don’t disappoint or mess up decisions near as much as you used to think they did. And of course, as you already knew, your grandchildren really do have halos around their precious heads; and real friends remain friends, often in spite of us.

So today, please pray for me that I will—“Live the rest of my life—like I am dying.”

And I’ll pray for you as you sky dive, get ready to ride that bull named “Fu Manchu” or begin, finally, to do all those other things you need to do, and to cherish all those people you need to cherish—as if your life depended on it.

Have a great time—living the rest of your life.

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2012. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29: 11 (NIV)

So often time it happens, we all live our life in chains, and we never even know we have the key.

The Eagles, “Already Gone”

“There it is Wendy. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

The words are those of Peter Pan to Wendy pointing the way to Neverland. And as I sit here this morning, I can’t help but believe it’s one of the great lines in all of literature.

And today again as we begin another new year together—perhaps it should be a theme for all that can be in this year which will unfold before us. Maybe it’s just what promises to be another beautiful morning that causes me to hear again all the hope to which that line calls us. Maybe it’s our two Granddaughters running around the house and yard showing me things I haven’t seen in years.

Maybe it’s because we celebrate Lynda’s birthday today, and during the more than forty-four years we have been together she has been pointing me toward Neverland, always encouraging, inspiring, supporting and reminding me that I had the key to reach beyond where I have been and where I am, to where I should be and to all I can be. Maybe it’s that there are dreams—needing dusting off—that today are still smoldering in my heart.

I wonder what J.M. Barrie had in mind—I suspect it was a little bit of all of that—when he penned those words in his classic book “Peter Pan.”

Here we are, standing together on the threshold of a brand new day, a brand new year—and I wonder what’s in our hearts waiting to come out? What’s inside you longing to come out? What Neverland have you longed to fly to one day? What is it you can’t seem to overcome in your life that is holding you back and chaining you down from reaching for Neverland, and keeping you from becoming all you can be? What mold or stereotype has the culture fit you into, or dragged you down to, which is keeping you from become all who God created you to be? What music within you has yet to be sung? What flower planted deep inside you—by the One who created you—has yet to bloom? What dream smoldering within your heart, has yet to begin to burst into flames?

Where ever it is, you have the key to get there. It’s part of God’s plan of hope and a future for your life. And He—going with you—has all the strength and power you will even need to get there—and to all He intends for you to be. Oh sure, you and I may fall a few times along the way, but the way remains clear: “Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

We might take some encouragement from some others throughout history have who refused to accept their present circumstances as the picture of their future and instead have reached beyond the chains that could have held them back, and on toward the dreams burning within their hearts—

Bury him in the snows of Valley Forge

and you have a George Washington,

Raise him in abject poverty, and you have an Abraham Lincoln,

Subject him to a life of bitter hatred and racial prejudice

and you have a Martin Luther King, Jr.,

Subject her to a life of being blind, deaf and mute

and you have a Helen Keller,

Let his teachers tag him as “hopeless” at the age of 7

and you have a Thomas Alva Edison,

Give up on him as a child saying “he’ll never amount to anything”

and you have an Albert Einstein,

Sit her on the back of the bus one time too many—

after a life full of years of racial segregation—and you have a Rosa Parks stepping forward for the dreams of people everywhere.

What’s inside you longing to come out? What dreams smoldering within your heart are waiting to burst into flames?

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares that Lord.

And He stands ready to help you get to where He created and intended for you to be. He placed the key within your hands.

“There it is Wendy. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

Why not this year? Why not today? Why not now?

Happy New Year—See you in Neverland!

In His Name—Scott

P.S. Happy Birthday sweetie! Thanks for always pointing the way!

Copyright 2012. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Luke 2: 10-14 (KJV)

It is as definite for me as Christmas itself. Every year—without fail. And always sometime before all the promise of Christmas morning breaks afresh and anew in our hearts. Making certain to watch the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

This year I watched it one evening two days before Christmas with some dear friends—his bride had seen it before, but he had never seen the movie from beginning to end. And then I watched it again on Christmas Eve.

Timeless. Priceless. Hopeful.

By the time the closing scene rolls around, and despite having seen the classic at least a hundred times before, tears have already welled up in my eyes and in the eyes of those around me. The enduring message of the sacredness and value of our individual lives is made clear through the troubles and triumphs of the life of George Bailey and the old Bailey Building and Loan he begrudgingly assumed stewardship over at his father’s passing.

In assuming that role, George gave up the college monies he saved so that his younger brother Harry could go, giving up his dreams of traveling as an engineer building bridges and other structures around the world. George instead never left his home in Bedford Falls, so he could watch over the old Bailey Building and Loan, never reaching his hoped-for potential—or so he thought. Never achieving the riches of fame and fortune of which he had dreamed since boyhood—or so he thought. Yet as the movie unfolds, the viewer sees that through his seemingly simple life, George had changed many lives for good around him, and that George had indeed reached his full potential and beyond.

In that closing scene, George’s younger brother Harry—a war hero whose life was saved as a boy by George—had just learned of the recent money troubles of the Building and Loan and flew home through a snowstorm to be with George and his family. When he arrived, he was not really surprised to see people from all around town now gathering to share their monies and lives to help out their friend George Bailey, the one who had through the years helped each one of them.

Harry lifts a glass to toast his big brother and offers the words:

“To my big brother, George, the richest man in town!”

There it is—a simple humble man, not at all wealthy in terms of money, yet characterized as the richest man in town. It took the events laid out in the movie leading to that moment for George to see it—but he finally did. Standing there in his home, surrounded by family and the other people and things of his life that truly mattered, he finally felt that indeed he was the richest man in town.

What about you and me? Aren’t we in the same position as George Bailey every day? Couldn’t it also be said about us—that no matter what we’re going through, no matter our “status” in the meaningless pecking orders of society—that we are the richest people in town? Here we are, surrounded in life by the people and things that really matter, and in some cases the memories of those whom we still hold dear—all reminders that we, too, are the richest people in town? Then why do things get us down? Why does the economy cause us to see gloom, rather than sunshine, in our tomorrows? Why do we allow temporary setbacks to paint the landscape of our future? Why do we still believe that the “stuff” and things of the world are still worth our reach?

We have just come through another Christmas celebration and have been reminded yet again of a magnificent moment which occurred for you and for me as spoken by the Angel and as recorded in the Gospel of Luke:

“Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

Stop right there for a minute. For you! Do you see that? Read it again—go ahead…“For unto you….a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

For you! And for me!

And not only do we have a Savior—whose birth we just celebrated again—but we also have people and things in our lives which matter. People who love and care for us. People who need us and look up to us. People—in whatever number and relationship—who look to us, who listen to us and whose lives are better because we are here and because our lives have been woven with theirs, all as a part of God’s eternal plan.

I don’t know what the world will throw before us in the days, weeks and months ahead in an attempt to bring us low, to cause us to drop our heads in despair, to put a cloud over our vision of the future God has in mind for us.

But I do know that we have a Savior. I do know that we have people who love and care for us, people who need us, people whose lives have been made better and those whose lives will be made better because of us.

And for all of that, we should always know that each of us is indeed “the richest person in town.”

Claim that for today, tomorrow and every day before you.

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2011. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2: 6-7 (NIV)

We made room for them that day. We always will.

Lynda announced that our two precious Granddaughters were coming to spend the day with us last week while their Mom and Dad went Christmas shopping. Now they could finish hanging ornaments on the Christmas tree which they had helped me pick out for our home last week, and they could help us decorate the house. In particular, they could place a few more manger scenes wherever they felt they should be. The timing of their visit was perfect—as time with them always is—but, as I was about to discover, for much more than the obvious.

After they had been there awhile, I noticed that Hannah and Ellie Kate had placed one of the manger scenes directly under the Christmas tree—where we usually put all the presents. And so when I had them both together, I drew upon my best Granddaddy wisdom, and asked why they had put that manger set under the tree adding the point that since we usually put presents under the tree “…there would be less room now under the tree for the presents!”

As my words flew out before me and landed with a thud on their hearts, I saw their faces melt into sadness. At that moment I wish I could have taken them back so the resounding echo of what I had just said would quiet in my brain. But they were both up to the moment with their wonderful Granddaughter wisdom.

“But Gran,” they cried out in one voice, “we first need to make room for the Baby Jesus!”

If we could listen across the centuries we would hear the tramp of millions of feet, all traveling to various parts of the world known at that time, all in obedience to that command of Caesar Augustus. It was a busy road and time and the streets of Bethlehem were crowded, literally overrun with people milling about, talking and trading, waiting to be enrolled, waiting to be taxed. All of the rooms were taken and so we see Joseph forced to find some shelter for Mary, which he did—in a stable. Having passed by the palace of Herod, the dwelling places of the rich, the hovels of the poor, this young couples’ welcome to Bethlehem was in a stable out behind the inn, because as Luke points out in verse seven—“there was no room for them in the inn.”

Welcome to Bethlehem, Holy Family, welcome—to a filthy, damp, cold manger.

It’s symbolic of what would happen to Jesus throughout His life and throughout His ministry. No room for Jesus in the inn. In fact, throughout His life, the welcome was the same, there never seemed to be room. There was no room in the temples or the courts, because His message and his ministry, and who He was—was not understood. There was no room for Him in the lives of so many people. But that has been the case all throughout history—there has been no room for Jesus in the lives of people. Others things seem to crowd Him out.

Why? Why was the Lord of life, the Light that overcame the darkness of the world, crowded out? In a way, I’m not sure the innkeeper has gotten a fair shake over the years since that night. He was preoccupied with running a business, first come-first served, pay your money, and get your room. He was justified in saying no—there was simply no room for the Holy Family in the inn.

But you see, it’s by such seemingly justifiable circumstances as those that the Lord of life is shut out of our lives. Preoccupation, other priorities, things that get there first and which we allow to stay. Things we need room for—like Christmas presents. We don’t mean to be irreverent, it’s simply that our hearts get filled with other guests, other priorities, other things, we have our social obligations, schools to attend, games to win, and after all, we have to make a living. We don’t mean to shove Christ out of our lives. It’s simply that we’re pre-occupied with the business of living, the place is full, there is no vacancy. How can anything else possibly fit into our busy lives?

Another reason He is crowded out might be because of what John suggests in his Gospel—that a darkness existed in the world. A darkness of man against man and nation against nation. It’s a darkness that has come and gone throughout history, and it’s a darkness that at times invades our own lives, where we, too, experience feelings of: uncertainty, bitterness, jealousy, despair, guilt, shame, disappointment or failure. Where we find ourselves in a place where our lives have been overcome by all the problems around us, within us, and on top of us. Yet it’s a darkness that the light of God’s magnificent invasion of our world overcame over two centuries ago and can overcome once again in your life and in mine.

Maybe the innkeeper or other people throughout history—like we tend to do—didn’t leave room for Him because they didn’t recognize the importance of the moment. I mean, if the innkeeper had realized who Joseph was making arrangements for; I wonder if he would have found them a room in the inn? If only he had known that this was the Son of God, if only someone had told him that years later we would date our letters from that night in his stable, and the birth that occurred there. If only he had known, surely he would have made room—wouldn’t he? But, of course that wasn’t the way God planned it.

We, like that innkeeper though, often miss the mighty, the powerful, the tremendous evidences of God, because He chooses to hide Himself in the meek and lowly, in the quiet gentle ways of a Babe in a manger, or in the afternoon ascent of a bright full moon on a clear cold day, or in the brightest star against the darkest night, in a baby’s laugh, or the time-honored wrinkles of a Grandmother’s face. So often it seems that God does things in such strange and quiet ways, that we just don’t see the moments when God is in our midst.

Christmas has come. And we are heading again toward that celebration to be reminded afresh and anew of the birth of the Baby Jesus. Will we make room for Him this year—under our trees, in our hearts, in our lives? Will we allow Him to stay, to guide us, direct us and love us—all the way through eternity?

Christ has come. And we dare not miss Him—He will make all the difference in our lives. Make room.

Merry Christmas to each of you! Merry Christmas!

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2011. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“…Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins’…

When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded…”

Matthew 1:18-24 (NIV)

It had to be a life-changing experience for Joseph.

Surely it had to be strange.

From the little we know of Joseph, he seemed to be a good man, a righteous, law abiding, hardworking and compassionate man. He was pledged to Mary and under Jewish customs no intimate relations could take place between them until they were married. And then he finds out Mary is pregnant. He saw that he had two options to save his integrity—to publicly divorce her, or, to spare Mary that embarrassment, he could divorce her privately. But to have stayed with her now would have been an admission of guilt that he had caused her to become pregnant. And so he decided he would divorce her privately and quietly.

But a strange thing happened to him as he debated his options. He had a dream. And an angel spoke to him and told him of a third option, God’s option:

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins.”

The Angel might well have said to him something like, “Joseph, you think my appearing to you is strange, you just wait! You want to see strange Joseph—just wait!” And the event the Angel described now looming before Joseph and Mary would indeed be strange—as only God can do strange.

We’re in the home stretch toward Christmas. Presents are being bought and wrapped. The dinner menu for Christmas day is being settled. Travel plans have been made. The stockings are all hung “by the chimney with care, in hopes that”—well, you know the rest. Yet I wonder if any of us feel stressed out like those two folks who I observed the other day screaming at each other over a parking space at the local mall.

We’re in the home stretch. And tell me again, where are we headed? And why are we headed there? And how will we behave along the way? And what will we do when we get there?

Joseph was in the home stretch heading toward Bethlehem because of a census requirement, with dust building in his lungs from miles of dry road beds, aching joints from years on the job standing, squatting and swinging a carpenter’s hammer. Traveling with a woman he was scheduled to marry who was—only the Lord knows how—already pregnant, he journeyed along on the home stretch. And so on he traveled, leaving his place of comfort, believing in a dream, believing in an Angel, believing in—it seemed a strange thing God was up to this time.

I wonder what we would have done.

The journey sounds a bit like ours. Difficult, busy, cluttered days on uncertain stretches of our lives, traveling out of our comfort zones, with growing aches, pains and health problems from years of doing whatever seemed to be necessary to make ends meet. And then the stress and heartache of family troubles, illnesses, losses, relationship struggles and daily disappointments, unfulfilled expectations and too-many rejections, no “parking spaces”, and always having to make do with what we have and where we are—wondering if the grass is greener somewhere else.

And Joseph’s response to all of what God was doing and what the Angel said was before him? Are you nuts, Lord? Okay, parting the Red Sea and shutting the mouths of lions, those were amazing, but a virgin birth? Maybe that’s what we think he should have said. Maybe that’s what we would say. Maybe that’s what we say today when we’re faced with mountains and valleys and as we search high and low around bend after bend, for that perfect path through all the uncertainty of our lives.

But look closer at Joseph. He’s the one always standing quietly in the background of manger scenes everywhere. Do you see him? And even though he didn’t understand, even though he no doubt wondered why him, and why this way and why here, Joseph’s response was one of humble obedience. Something made him believe, as in so many moments throughout God’s history, that what was happening was not about him, but it was about something much greater than him.

It was about God’s strange plan to save the world.

And it was a life-changing experience for him, and for all the world. As strange as it may seem, and as far removed as two-thousand years ago is from us today, it was and can be a life-changing experience for us afresh and anew today.

And it will happen if we believe, and when we believe in the Babe of Bethlehem. That’s where we’re headed and that’s why we’re headed there, and He’s what we’re headed for today and all the way to Christmas day, and to everyday thereafter for the rest of our lives.

It will be a life-changing experience for us.

We’re in the home stretch, dear friends. Get ready—God is up to something strange. For you and me, and all the world.

Amen and Amen.

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2011. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

]]> http://impactforliving.org/blog/2011/12/joseph%e2%80%94the-home-stretch/feed/ 0 http://impactforliving.org/blog/2011/12/santa-claus-and-other-wonders/ http://impactforliving.org/blog/2011/12/santa-claus-and-other-wonders/#comments Mon, 05 Dec 2011 16:34:27 +0000 Scott Whitaker http://impactforliving.org/blog/?p=443 Just some early morning thoughts from me to you…

“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the City of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.’”

Luke 2: 10, 11 (NIV)

So when did you stop believing?

That reality check hit me again the other day as I was putting our youngest granddaughter Ellie Kate to bed. She loves to stay with us. As she was drifting off to sleep looking at the lighted Christmas tree and manger scene at the base of the tree in the room in our home which is set aside for her and her sister, Ellie Kate’s eyes fell again on the plastic lighted Santa that still shines for her and her sister, Hannah, as it did for her Daddy over forty years ago.

As that precious seven-year-old girl lay there, taking in the scene before her, she caught me by surprise when she asked:

“Gran, is there really a Santa Claus?”

I’ve had some time through the years since her Daddy, our Son, Nathan, was born to reflect on that. And so I paused for a moment, and then honestly answered her that I will always believe that there is.

When did Santa Claus become simply a figment of your childhood imagination, finally unmasked as a hoax perpetrated on you by your parents, grandparents and the rest of our civilized world? For most of us it was some insensitive know-it-all elementary school classmate whose own bubble had been burst and they were bound and determined to share their new-found disappointment with as many as possible before another Christmas day arrived.

There is no Santa Claus! At some tender age the innocence of the possible became the cold hard reality of the impossible.

I figure this is as good a season as any for true confessions, so here it is. In a time long ago, and in the spirit of continuing to develop his character and establish a relationship of trust and truth-telling in his little heart, I told our Son what I had been told as a child. I wanted him to be able to say that I had always told him the truth, about everything. I couldn’t “lie” to him about this “make-believe wonder” anymore.

You guessed it. And so I told my son at his tender young age that there was no Santa Claus. I didn’t want to wait for some irreverent little urchin to break his heart which was full of wonder. I broke it instead. Oh, we still pretended, and still set out cookies and milk on Christmas Eve and wrote Santa a note. But after that he sadly accepted that the sounds he heard on Christmas Eve were probably just tree limbs blowing in the wind, instead of Santa’s sleigh and eight tiny reindeer sliding to a screeching halt on roof-tops all around the neighborhood. For the record, I should tell you that his Mother didn’t agree with my approach to this child-rearing moment.

That moment—the “truth” about Santa Claus—was just another example of a long litany of reality checks which the self-proclaimed learned, wise and the mature among us impose on the idealistic spirit God created within each of us that urges us, drives us, to believe in the “possibility of the impossible.” I suppose it begins to happen also when we lose the game we should have won, or when someone we trusted hurts us, or a teacher labels us as a low achiever, or a parent calls us a name we hadn’t heard before, maybe someone’s tone of voice tells us we weren’t as important as we thought. And sadly, so sadly, we allow those to begin to define our future.

The problem, as I learned much later when I was watching the two movies, Santa Clause and Santa Clause II with and through the eyes of my elder granddaughter Hannah, is this—I really don’t know whether there is a Santa Claus or not. I really don’t know the answer to Ellie Kate’s question—“Gran is there really a Santa Claus?” How do I know there is no Santa Claus? Just because I haven’t seen him? How do I know there is no North Pole? Just because I haven’t been there? How do I know there are no elves? Just because I haven’t tasted their hot chocolate?

And while I’m on that, how do we know that elephants can’t fly or animals can’t talk? Just because we haven’t seen it or heard it happen? How do we know we’ll fail again, if we don’t pick ourselves up and try? How do we know a relationship won’t work, if we don’t take the first step to see if it will? How do we know a friend won’t be healed or feel better about themselves, if we don’t reach out to touch them in their moment of need? And how do we know we can’t achieve what we dream, to reach for and perhaps even touch the stars, if we don’t try, if we don’t reach beyond where we are?

Yet we’ll sit on an airplane trusting it will go up and then come down safely. We’ll wait each morning fully expecting the sun to rise. We know it will rain some days, and some days it won’t, no matter what the local meteorologist says. And we all remember those inexplicable moments of joy in our lives, those moments of “coincidence” we couldn’t explain, when our fondest wishes came true. Those times when what we thought was impossible, became possible, right before our eyes.

That moment of so long ago with my son, Nathan, and other similar moments since then, have borne much fruit, for he is now a trustworthy man of honor and integrity. Yet I’ll bet that somewhere within that strong and gentle heart of his, there remains a place which every year begins to bubble, like his daughters’, with an excited expectation that this may be the year he sees him, with all the splendor of his sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

What about you? Believing in the wonder, majesty and possibility of the impossible.

It’s the very least we can do for ourselves, for our futures, and for the One Who created it all, and whose birth we will celebrate again in just a few short weeks. It’s that birth—documented and proven beyond a shadow of a doubt—and the Hope that He brought into the world that day which inspires and encourages us to believe in the wonder, the majesty and the possibility—of the impossible. To see beyond where our eyes can see and where our ears can hear, and on and on as far as our hearts will carry us.

Now that’s the truth, and a belief with endless and eternal possibilities.

In His Name—Scott

Copyright 2011. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.

“‘He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.

Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1: 10-14 (NIV)

It really began the night before. It was a bit later than we had intended—and later than her Mommy and Daddy would’ve hoped for—but there we were, both Lynda and me, Mimi and Gran, laying in the darkened bedroom on the floor next to our younger Granddaughter Ellie Kate the other night not too long before she finally drifted off to sleep.

At Ellie Kate’s request, her Mimi had created a pallet for her on the floor at the base of the Christmas tree in the bedroom which she and her sister Hannah know is theirs, and right next to the Precious Moments manger scene Ellie had arranged at the base of that tree. While we lay there with her, she alternated between switching the tree lights on and off with the remote, and moving the beloved figures within the manger scene—every now and then picking up the Baby Jesus ever so reverently, holding Him in both hands and looking believingly into His face.

The next morning, while helping to decorate various parts of the house for Christmas with her Mimi, Ellie began, as she always does each year, by unwrapping and setting up all the manger scenes around the house. And then it happened.

While I was busy opening boxes of Christmas decorations in the attic, a wounded cry pierced the distance from the other room breaking my busyness with the pained announcement…

“Gran, Gran there is no Baby Jesus, or Mary and Joseph in the box.”

She arrived right behind her words to get me to come and see, and when we arrived back at the scene, she pointed to an opened box with a set of figurines her Mimi had bought containing a camel, a sheep, a shepherd, an angel, and even a Santa Claus and a North Pole. But there was no Baby Jesus. Relieved at what I saw, I smiled and explained to her that this set was simply some figures Mimi bought which she liked, and was not really a manger scene—all true. And so on she went, satisfied, and continued here mission to set up the remaining manger scenes around the house.

And all of that started because Ellie Kate believes that the Baby Jesus belongs in the manger scene—and of course she’s right. In the manger scene under the Christmas tree in her bedroom, as He was the night before as the three of us lay on the floor together waiting for one of us to go to sleep. In the manger scenes she sets up throughout the house. And in the manger scene which occurred over two thousand years ago on a dark night, in a dark world, in a damp manger, and a dirty stable behind a warm inn in the little town of Bethlehem.

In the Gospel which bears his name, John used the term “believe,” or comparable words, ninety-eight times. A Gospel with just twenty-one chapters, yet containing the word “believe” almost one-hundred times. You would think that John’s desire was to get the reader to believe in the unbelievable—of a Virgin birth, of a baby boy, to a young girl. The birth of God’s Son. It was.

How do you explain it? How can you possibly believe it? Maybe that’s why John emphasized “believing” as much as he did. There was simply no way to explain what had occurred so that our finite minds would be able to understand and believe. And there was no way to be able to explain what the coming of Christ, into a dark night, into a dark world would mean to those who were present in those days, and to those throughout the centuries to follow.

Here we are heading out of Thanksgiving and into the Christmas season, and I wonder what we’re expecting to find? I wonder what we’re looking for as the days pass by. I wonder what we believe is waiting up ahead as we fast approach the day of celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ? What do we believe as we move past “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday” and into sale after sale designed so we can declare a “successful” holiday season?

What do we believe in a world that determines the success of Christmas, not in terms of changed and transformed lives, but in terms of the amount of business done by our merchants locally and elsewhere around the country?

What do we believe in a world that so reorders our priorities that many of us, and many of our families and friends, go through life thinking that each day they will finally find the real meaning to life in their work, or in social settings, or in the accumulation of things, or perhaps worse, in a bottle, or in pills or drugs? And often they find themselves coming to the end of their lives unsatisfied, unfulfilled, sadly beginning to understand after too many wasted years that is was never about that stuff.

But it was always about believing. It was always about believing in a Virgin birth, in a manger, in Bethlehem—and God’s Son, the Baby Jesus.

And this year it can be different.

And it will depend on what you and I believe.

John made it clear way back then—it’s about believing in the birth of God’s Son, on a dark night, in a dark world, in a damp manger, and a dirty stable, in the little town of Bethlehem.

What will you believe in? What will your family and friends believe in?

The answer will make all the difference in your life, their lives and mine—throughout all eternity.

In His Name—Scott

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Copyright 2011. Scott L. Whitaker. All rights reserved.