Category Archives: christmas

Christmas Special 2012

 

For those of you who are interested in purchasing copies of my books, Peace for the Journey and Beyond Cancer’s Scars, I’m offering FREE SHIPPING on all U.S.A. orders now through December 2012.

In addition, if you order three copies of any combination of books, you’ll receive a fourth one FREE! When ordering with Paypal, order your choice of three books via the Paypal shopping cart. To receive a fourth book free, indicate your selection in the “instructions to merchant” box or send me a private message. DO NOT add your free book to the shopping cart; in doing so, you’ll be paying for the 4th book, and I won’t be able to refund your money. If you’d like to order using a check for payment, please send me a private message by clicking here.

Please keep in mind that all merchandise will be shipped at media-mail rates and may take up to two weeks to receive, although books usually arrive within a week. Therefore, plan accordingly if you’d like your books before Christmas!

Thank you so very much for supporting my work and for allowing me the opportunity to bring God’s peace and comfort into the hearts and homes of those who are searching for the light and witness of Jesus. These are good days to be walking alongside you, friends, as we, once again, make our Bethlehem pilgrimage. I pray for many manger moments to fill your days as you move forward to behold the Christ-child. These are his revelation days. Would you open up your heart so that you might receive his?

I’ll meet you on the road. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

This special is no longer available. To see our 2013 special, click here.

the quiet pause of Christmas…

My voice has been silenced in the last twenty-four hours. Literally. Sickness has claimed my vocal cords. This has never happened to me before, not completely in the way it has happened for me this time around.

My whispered shouts for the attention of others are met only by their silence. Not because they don’t care about me, but rather because they can’t hear me. Their listening isn’t prone to my whispering, so mostly… I’m ignored. Probably a relief to most of those in my household, but to a woman who’s used to being heard… a great frustration indeed.

And I’m thinking…

About my voice. About my words. About needing to be heard. About what I will say when I am, again, able to say.

And I’m thinking…

About quietness. About the value of forced silence. About going inward with my thoughts instead of outwardly displaying every single one of them.

And I’m thinking…

About God. About his voice. About his needing to be heard. About his willingness to keep company with silence… with his thoughts, instead of outwardly displaying every single one of them.

And I’m thinking…

About how very connected I feel to Him in all of this. About how my inability to speak amplifies the volume of God’s witness.

How many times has the Father whispered my name in the midst of my chaos, only to be ignored because of the noise surrounding my life? My hearing isn’t prone to his whispering. But in silence—in this period of fewer, personal words—I more clearly hear the phrases from heaven.

Beautiful, peace-filled, stilled expressions of understanding from God’s heart.

My ninth grade English teacher once wrote in my yearbook, “Elaine, if silence is golden you can forget it.” Apparently, I was destined for poverty. Thirty years ago, I hadn’t a clue what she’d meant, and I couldn’t have cared less.

Today, I have a clue. Today I care more, exceedingly more. Today, silence really is golden, because silence has given me access to the whispers of home. And whenever that happens, friends, I’m the richest person alive.

I’m so glad I know Jesus. I’m so glad he knows me. And I’m exceedingly glad for those moments when I am able to clearly hear his voice. What tender grace is mine as a daughter of the King! I pray that you know him, hear him, worship and celebrate him in the quiet, closing moments of 2011. I believe that God has something vital and important to whisper to each one of us. I’ll be anxious to hear from you in coming days. As always…

Peace for the journey,

walking to Bethlehem with Jesus…

I’m relieved that I don’t have to make something out of Christmas.

Christmas already is something … all on its own … completely and wonderfully set apart from me. There’s nothing I can do or not do that will a

 

lter the truth of its glorious revelation. Bethlehem was and is and will always be God’s moment birthed God’s way.

The best I can do, the best we can do, is to do our level best at reflecting upon God’s moment in a way that honors the birthday of the King. All of us approach the manger with personal perspective. The baggage you carry with you is uniquely yours. The memories, the life experiences, the traditions, the sacred shaping of your yesterdays, all collectively gather together as luggage within your mind and heart as you make pilgrimage to Bethlehem this year.

Not all of us will celebrate in the same way, but all of us will have the opportunity to do so. To come to the manger and to rejoice, again, over the arrival of Jesus Christ in our lives. Bethlehem belongs to us every bit as much as it belonged to the original participants some 2000 years ago. Are we really so unlike Mother Mary? Haven’t I, haven’t you been given the same news and responsibility that she was given?

“‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.’” (Luke 1:35)
 
“‘ … 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.’” (Matthew 1:20-21)

That which is conceived in us, birthed in us, is from the Holy Spirit. Like Mary, we have been given the gift of the Christ Child to carry within us. Bethlehem becomes deeply personal for each one of us in that moment when God’s truth is revealed in our hearts and we accept his invitation to behold and to take hold of the baby in the manger. He is the something of Christmas—the One thing that will remain as truth, certainty, and surety in the midst of all the other unwrappings thrust upon us in this season. So…

No matter the week in front of you, no matter the checklists that are burdening you, fear not! He who is conceived in you… remains. He travels these days with you and only asks that, every now and again, you take a few minutes to pause, to pray, and to ponder the glorious truth of his companionship. God is not threatened by your need for celebration—by your tree, your gift-giving, your programs, and your parties. God is with you. God is with me. This is the joy of Bethlehem.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Light a candle or two in Christ’s honor this week and move forward with peace… Peace. It’s all good, friends. With Jesus, it’s all good. He is well-pleased to make pilgrimage with us. I’ll meet you at the manger. As always…

Peace for the journey,

Prepare the Way of the Lord…

“A voice of one calling:
‘In the desert prepare the way for the LORD;
Make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be raised up,
Every mountain and hill made low;
The rough ground shall become level,
The rugged places a plain.
And…
The glory of the of the LORD will be revealed,
And…
All mankind together will see it.’
 
For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” (Isaiah 40:3-5)

I had a thought a couple of days ago when first reading these words from God’s heart via the pen of the Prophet Isaiah. Several thoughts really, but one overriding theme that keeps skipping around in my mind, trying desperately to shelve itself alongside other holy truths that have come home to roost in my heart. A thought that I could, perhaps, one day use in conversation with others when trying to explain to them the gift of Bethlehem—the incarnation of God.

Have you tried that lately? Tried to explain to anyone in this season of Advent the reason of Advent? Are you, like me, so tangled up in ribbons and bows and undone lists that you’ve neglected your responsibility to be a baptizer like John—a heralder to the coming Kingdom? When was the last time you doused a soul with the life-giving, Living Water that courses through your veins as truth? In the midst of purchases and planning for the perfect Christmas, what plans have you made for the giving of Jesus Christ? The purchase has already been made… gift-wrapped and hung on a tree nearly 2000 years ago. There is no excuse we can offer for missing it, for missing Him. Even more so for giving Him to others. None.

And here’s my thought…

In giving us Jesus Christ, God leveled the playing field for all mankind to enter into a loving, intimate, eternal, and knowing relationship with him.

Jesus came to our desert, to our wilderness, and with his royal witness… with every holy step of progression he took toward us…

the deepest valley,
the steepest mountain,
the roughest terrain,
the rugged places…

all were made level to make entrance for the King.

With Jesus comes stability. With Jesus comes clear and certain revelation. When Jesus points his compass in our direction and makes pilgrimage toward our hearts, there is no obstacle in our past or present that can prevent his arrival. None. The only obstacle that stands in the way of our receiving God’s truth is our stubborn pride—our ridiculous need to be in charge of our own hearts, our own determinations about our tomorrows which, in the end, will lead us straight to the threshold of hell rather than the gain of heaven.

God didn’t create the obstacles that block our path to freedom, readers.

In giving us Jesus Christ, God leveled the playing field for all mankind to enter into a loving, intimate, eternal, and knowing relationship with him.

There is level ground beneath the feet of Jesus. His way is straight, his steps determined, and there is nothing that will prevent him from making pilgrimage to the front door of our hearts.

Advent. The coming of Christ, the Child. The redemption of Christ, the Savior. The forever with Christ, the Lord! The glory of the Lord has been revealed. It’s time for all the world to see it.

Herald Him loudly. Proclaim Him boldly. Take your place alongside John the Baptizer and be the one voice on this desert earth who is willing to make straight the highway for our King. God has leveled the playing field. Time to find your place alongside Him this week. I’ll meet you on the road. As always…

Peace for the journey,

~elaine

Merry Christmas {from afar}

Merry Christmas {from afar}

Merry Christmas, friends! Below you will find our annual Christmas letter; a few of you may have received one in the mail, but I wanted the rest of you to have it as well. I hadn’t planned on writing one this year; life got busy and crazy all in one breath, and I was using this reality as my excuse for not having to write one. But then while out walking a couple of weeks ago, God impressed one phrase upon my heart, “from afar.” I had no idea where it would take me when I returned home to put pen to paper, but the following message was the melody of my heart that afternoon. I release it to you today, believing that someone out there might need the witness of these words. Now, off to spend time with extended family and to enjoy the blessings of day. Shalom! (PS: Thanks to Shirley for painting this beautiful landscape for my Christmas cards this year.)
 
                                                                                                               Christmas 2010
From afar.
How tenderly that moment must have unwrapped for the Father as he sat with his Son in contemplation of what was to come. The waters were covered in darkness, teeming with possibility and promise and waiting in anticipation of the spoken word from the Word that would bring forth everything from seemingly nothing. There they hovered together, imagined and created together and thought about all of the ways that events could unfold, would unfold. And in those moments, a single moment came into focus for them. Not the Bethlehem one; the Calvary one.
From afar.
Calvary seemed a long time in coming in those pre-dawn hours before creation; perhaps thousands even millions of years removed from the artistic pulse that stirred within them. Still and yet, as it arrived on the palette of creation’s landscape, it paused their thoughts. Perhaps even pained their hearts, because they understood just exactly how much that moment would cost them both. How much it would break a mother’s heart. A disciple’s heart. A people’s heart. Their hearts. Even still, they pressed forward.
From afar.
And years later when Bethlehem dawned, the angels rejoiced. A mother cradled her gift and cherished the responsibility entrusted to her to love him beyond limits and to raise him in the fear and admonition of Almighty God. Surely there has never been a more sacred birth in history. Love was full and sweet and beautifully captured in that moment… suspended in time for all the world to witness and to remember. And as the earth applauded and all of heaven chorused its approval, a Father watched.
From afar.
But perfect joy was filled with perfect truth. And perfect truth was filled with perfect knowledge. And perfect knowledge dug deeply into the perfect contemplations of the Father, and he held something in his perfect heart that separated him from the perfect joy of the moment—the perfect pain of what was soon to come. Suddenly, that creation moment from so long ago no longer seemed so long ago. And Calvary? Well, just around the corner for the Father and his Son, and I wonder, did they cry…
from afar?
Fathers and mothers get to cry over their children; tears of joy and tears of sadness are allotted to those  of us who carry our sons and daughters as extensions of our flesh. We celebrate the good news of a child’s impending arrival, chronicle it with all the joy and laughter of heaven, only to realize all too soon, that with life comes pain. Not just for us, but for our children as well. And we wonder how it will all turn out in the days yet unseen, the moments yet unlived.
From afar.
Forty-five years ago, a mother carried the promise of new life in her womb. And she, along with her husband, celebrated the gift and cherished the responsibility entrusted to them to love this baby beyond limits and to raise this baby in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Nine months later, Easter arrived, as did their daughter. And love was full and sweet and beautifully captured in that moment, suspended in time… at least for them. And a Father watched.
From afar.
But perfect joy was filled with perfect truth. And perfect truth was filled with perfect knowledge. And perfect knowledge cut through to the heart of the Father because he knew something that these parents didn’t know in those perfect first moments of her beginning. He knew what was to come… about her now, and still he let the moment press forward.
From afar.
How thankful I am that he did… that he let my life breathe into existence and allowed me my tenure upon this earth. How glad I am that he didn’t keep me from it… that he didn’t think it would be too painful for us all, too difficult a road for us to walk. That he graciously allowed me years’ worth of accumulated moments that have birthed into my now. That he didn’t stop the plan, even though he knew the plan would unfold painfully at times. That he deliberately entrusted my care to the life of my parents and then to my husband. That despite all the ways I’ve neglected his perfect truth over the years, he still made a way for me to hold onto truth.
From afar.
From a beginning moment in time when he and his Son didn’t stop the plan, even though the plan would unfold painfully for them in a season to come. For with the Father’s release of his Son to that plan… to a cross… he better enabled me to carry mine. Not nearly as heavy as his Son’s, but heavy enough to cause me to look for perfect comfort from his Son. And I have found it… full and sweet and beautifully enough to see me through this season, regardless of the terrain… regardless of how long or how short the road home to him stretches.
From afar, God watches over me, and from very close by, he walks in perfect stride with me. And Bethlehem is my portion. My advent. My moment by the manger, when I behold afresh Emmanuel… God with me. May it be so for each one of you this Christmas. As always…
Peace for the journey,
error: Content is protected !!