Sarah Dixon Young's Blog: Love Much, page 12

“The Hiding Place: A Stage Adaptation” Film Review

Musician Rich Mullins wrote, “I think life, by nature, is a struggle. You know, whether or not you believe in the health, wealth, and prosperity doctrine, the ideas of that have polluted almost all of our thinking about Christianity- where we think that a really great Christian is someone who does not struggle.”

When you read the works of Corrie ten Boom, you know that Christians do struggle, and often, through their struggles, Jesus produces the perseverance necessary to cultivate Christian...

Lord of the Little Things

A friend gifted me a whole Bible’s worth of flannel figures so that I could use them to tell Bible stories.

I am an old-fashioned Sunday School lady, and I love my flannel board. It is a Gospel tool that no screen will ever replace.

As I was going through the billions of flannel figures, I noticed a whole file of “miscellaneous.” There, I found cut-outs of Aaron’s budding staff, the cherubim’s flaming sword, the woman’s alabaster jar, the ropes that hauled Jeremiah out of the cistern,...

The Substance of Hope

The hope of catching a fish keeps the fisherman casting, but it isn’t what he eats for his supper.

The substance of hope- the outcome of it- is the tangible result that fills his belly. 

This summer, my kids have done a lot of fishing. They have probably hoped more than they’ve caught, but the hope is enough to keep them at the pond most evenings. After many lost lures, multiple pairs of wet boots, and one trip to the emergency room to remove a hook in the head, they still ask, “Can w...

Running on Empty

I still had fourteen miles to go before I ran out of gas- plenty to make it to the gas station seven miles away.

I swung by and picked up a young teen in need of encouragement, and off we went. When my van gave a little shudder on the last turn, I wondered why I am always running on empty.

I am too busy to stop and get gas.I am irked that gas runs out, so I ignore the gauge. (Why can’t it be a never-ending supply?)Gas is expensive.

I filled the tank as my young friend stared ...

Equip the Saints

You know the kid I’m talking about.

He doesn’t sit still. He lives more in his imagination than reality. He talks even faster than he thinks, mostly at a higher decibel level than any other noise in the room.

Last week, he sped in the church at the head of the line, as usual, and held something out to me.

“I made a man praying out of legos,” he said proudly. He said I could keep it.

I almost wept as I studied each piece meticulously chosen and attached to another.

If, as the ...

Got You Covered

Now that it’s summertime, my kids are covered in bug spray, dirt from the garden, ashes from the campfire, and marshmallows from s’mores. 

Bathtime and bedtimes are more lenient since we are making the most of our long summer days, and I overlook some of the mess. 

They are thankful then to be covered by my mercy.

Coverings are important.

Sunscreen and cover-ups prevent sunburns. Sleeping bags and blankets provide warmth. Shade circumvents dehydration.

Perhaps there was no co...

Those Who Mourn

All summer at Bible Club, I have been teaching these famous words: “Blessed are those who mourn.”

This week, hugging children who have lost their mother, looking into the eyes of those who lost their brother, baking pink and purple cupcakes for the grandmother who lost her grandchild, I have had to think deeply about His words. 

Did He really mean what He said?

Can those who mourn be comforted?

They cannot be comforted with words, baked goods, hugs, or kind gestures. They cannot...

Floundering

I took my sons fishing this week. All we caught were northerns, but when I was growing up in south Florida, my favorite type of fishing was floundering.

We would go at night- with nary a chance of sunburn!- and my dad would load the boat with the spotlight, three-pronged gigs, life jackets, and water.

My dad, my brother, and I fit cozily into the small john boat, and dad would pilot us to the flats where the water was between two and five feet deep. Excitement mounted as we watched hi...

He Came Down

The distressed peeping from the pigpen was not a piglet. 

As I leaned in closer to look, I saw a speck of movement in the mud. 

It was a fuzzy yellow pheasant chick. My son jumped in the mud, reached down, and took hold of the struggling baby. He handed it to me. It was shivering, filthy, and alone.

We cleaned it off and hurried it to a heatlamp. It plopped down, exhausted, but now, it was clean, warm, and dry.

In the same week, I answered distressed questions from young women w...

Go to the Ant

While at family camp in Medora this week, I was waiting for my husband and son to return from hiking up a steep hillside.

I noticed an ant hill in the grass by the side of the trail.

The colorful pebbles and bits of sand they were using to make their hill higher caught my eye, but it was so small compared to the larger hillside that it was laughable. 

The lessons at camp that day had hit on our inability to earn salvation with our good works. I totally agree with this and have writ...