Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 8
February 18, 2024
On the Road to …
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
A friend of mine shared plans to participate in a spiritual retreat called Walk to Emmaus. As we visited about the weekend event, I prayed it would be one of personal revelation.
Personal revelation is exactly what happened in the gospel account of two men walking from Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus after the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. It’s an engaging story that you can find in Luke 24:13-35.
This journey has inspired not only event planners and Bible teachers, but also artists over the centuries. Possibly the most recognizable painting is “The Road to Emmaus” by Swiss landscape painter Robert Zund (1827-1909).
A similar work hangs in my home, depicting two men walking casually through an idyllic setting of colorful trees, flowers, and a flowing brook. The painting emits peace and perfection.
However, if you read Luke’s telling of the event, these men were anything but peaceful. Their trek took them down a path of necessity rather than leisure. I imagine the reality of their road was quite different, with rocks, and scrub brush, and dirt that worked into their sandals.
A road similar to life paths we all travel.
However, Jesus—alive and well—joined them. He walked with them. Met them where they were, so to speak.
We all walk a road—
to loneliness
to grief
to refuge
to hope
to commitment
to service
Jesus will meet us today on our road. We have the same opportunity as the two men on their way to Emmaus if we choose to listen, consider, and recognize His presence.
A line in a new *worship song has imbedded itself in my thoughts lately, and it plays over and over in my mind throughout the day:
“The God of our salvation is among us.”
And He is. He’s right here with us, on our own road.
Jesus answered and said to him,
“If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word;
and My Father will love him,
and We will come to him and
make Our home with him.
John 14:23
~
On the road to ...
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*Sing His Name – Listen here.
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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February 11, 2024
Wait
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
“No waiting on checkout aisle number three.”
I squeezed the red plastic handle of my shopping cart and held my ground. The frenzy around me resembled the Indy 500 at the drop of a green flag as shoppers rushed to be first in the new line so they didn’t have to … wait.
What is it about waiting that makes us so antsy?
Several years ago, I worked as a secretary for an agricultural chemical company in Northern Colorado. One morning a sales representative came into the office with his golden retriever. The man picked through the donut selection next to the coffee pot and laid one of the smooth, glazed pastries on the floor in front of his dog.
The retriever just sat there staring at the donut. He didn’t even sniff it.
“Why won’t he eat it?” I asked as saliva dripped from the dog’s clinched jaws.
“Because I haven’t told him to,” the salesman said.
To emphasize his point, he walked through the office and visited while the dog stared and drooled. At last he came back and quietly said, “Okay.”
The retriever inhaled the donut.
The salesman had trained his dog to eat only at his command. That way, he said, the dog could never be poisoned.
I wondered, does God do that with us?
Most often when He tells me to wait for something I want, I start drooling like the dog.
If He tells me to wait for His timing in a specific situation, I start revving my engine.
Does God want me to just stand there in the checkout line while the bag boy runs to get the can of green beans forgotten by the customer in front of me? Is there a character-building lesson going on?
Is there a reason for sitting with my foot on the brake at an eternally long traffic light? Other than safety?
Does God’s “wait” have a hidden motive behind it like the dog owner’s?
Perhaps waiting suppresses a me-first mentality, the I-want-it-now attitude. Maybe it jump-starts patience.
The word wait is verb, an action word. An intransitive* verb, but a verb nonetheless. It is not a do-nothing word and can serve as a command.
Psalm 37:7 directs us to “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him.” This kind of wait encourages me to actively trust that God has a better grasp of the situation than I. It reminds me of the well-trained retriever.
I’m still progressing through the stages of Christian maturity and drooling over what I want. But I know the Lord has much greater things for me than a glazed donut. His timing is so much better than mine, and His command to wait has protected me from making so many poor—and dangerous—choices.
Thank God, I’m learning.
Wait is a verb.
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*In grammar, an intransitive verb is a verb whose context does not include a direct object (a who or what).
At the top of her hill, Eli killed his lights and engine. From the glove compartment he retrieved a mag light and his .45, then pulled the keys from the ignition.
Instinctively he crouched and ran to the end of the house, then slid along the wall to the northwest corner. He stopped. Listened. Waited. A board squeaked. He crossed his wrists, gun in his right hand, light in his left. Raising them together, he clicked the light as he stepped around the end and shouted,
“Stop!”
The light caught the prowler’s legs as he dove off the porch, rolled to his feet, and ran for the road.
Eli followed him to the head of the drive, where he pointed his gun into the ground beyond the pasture corner post and fired. The report echoed through the hills and silenced the crickets.
He waited a second time. Listened for footfalls on gravel road. Stumbling, running through brush.
Tight-fisted, the darkness held its peace, giving up only a solitary heartbeat. His own.
He stuck his gun in the back of his jeans and returned to the front porch.
“Laura. It’s me.”
Two beats. Three. “Eli?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
Good girl. “Laura Bell, you ding—” ~The Miracle Tree E-book and audio.
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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February 4, 2024
Hearts to You
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Do you have a Valentine? I believe we all do, whether we realize it or not. I’m not talking about someone to whom we’ve given our hearts in the romantic sense, but someone who epitomizes Christian love in our life.
Tradition says Valentine’s Day originated as a Christian Feast Day honoring a martyr named Valentine. You can read about it here. Over time, the day became a commercial celebration of romantic love, with the exchange of Valentine cards, candy, or flowers. Retailers love it.
Though we enjoy receiving such remembrances from our sweetheart, what about looking beyond our spouse, fiancé, or boyfriend/girlfriend to someone in our lives who has blessed us? What about writing a letter to them expressing appreciation for their acts of sharing God’s love through an encouraging word, a prayer, a smile, or a listening ear?
Okay, I can hear your arguments:
“But I’m not good at expressing my thoughts.”
“I’m not an emotionally-literate person.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I have terrible handwriting.”
Here are some suggestions for what you could say:
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for helping.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“Thank you for your prayers.”
“Thank you for your encouragement.”
As a public-school teacher, I always included letter-writing lessons, regardless of the grade level. You might be amazed to learn how many children (and adults) have no idea how to write a letter. Texting, PM-ing, emojis, and even email have robbed us of individual thought and effort. Greeting cards cheat us into simply signing our name at the bottom of a pithy or heart-tugging sentiment.
So here we go …
Use blank note paper or stationery. (If you must get a greeting card, find one that is blank on the inside.)
Use a pen or pencil.
Near the upper left-hand corner write: Dear (their name), or simply their name followed by a comma.
Below that, write out what you want to say, beginning on the left side of the paper.
Below that, about halfway across the page from left to right, sign your name.
You can use a closing in front of your name if you want, something like: Fondly, Warmly, Love, with appreciation …
Put the note in an envelope, address it (by hand), write your name and address in the upper left-hand corner, and affix a stamp in the upper right. (Don’t take offense here. Like I said, you’d be surprised by how many people don’t know how to write or send a personal letter.)
Our handwriting is as individual as our fingerprints, and I believe that is by God’s design. I can tell when someone has written to me or simply used a cursive font on the computer. It makes a difference in how I receive what has been sent.
If your hand trembles when you write, I encourage you to write anyway. If the recipient is someone who loves you, they will recognize your sincerity in your handwriting.
The act of writing with a pen or pencil, addressing an envelope, affixing a stamp, and mailing a thought to someone might mean more to them than you’d imagine.
You don’t have to say “Happy Valentine’s Day” unless you want to. It’s not about Valentine’s. It’s about you and someone who touched you in the Lord’s name.
Hearts to you.
And if you give even a cup of cold water
to one of the least of my followers,
you will surely be rewarded.
Matthew 10:42
~
E-book & AudioTurning left onto the county road, Laura pushed into the long straightaway, but changed her mind and slowed past the ranch entrance. A long wooden sign with an oak-tree silhouette and deep-cut letters hung above the gate: “Hawthorne Ranch.” A rider circled in the round pen near the barn, but only the top of his hat showed over the high railing. Had to be Eli.
She returned her attention to the road, threaded the S-curve, and stopped at the mailboxes to find hers empty. Disappointment elbowed out her earlier good mood. Nearly all her communication she handled online. Efficient and impersonal. But for some odd reason she longed for a letter, handwritten words on real stationery, folded and sealed in a hand-addressed envelope. Something that said she was worth the extra time and effort.
She’d seen her mother’s old love letters from Daddy. They seemed so much more personal than email and texts and instant messages.
But people didn’t write letters any more.
And besides, who would write to her? ~The Miracle Tree
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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January 28, 2024
Can I Hide From God?
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
When my youngest granddaughter plays hide-and-seek with her daddy, she sees things only from her perspective. She has no idea she’s giving away her whereabouts.
Perhaps in her innocence she reasons like the cartoon ostrich: “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.”
How many of us as adults have tried the same thing, asking, “Where can I hide from God?”
Can we get so far away from Him that He won’t find us?
No.
Adam tried that and it didn’t work.
Elijah thought he’d sneak in undetected. That didn’t work either.
Balaam attempted a short cut and even his donkey had a thing or two to say.
David, the great shepherd-king and giant-killer wrote:
I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there.
If I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night–
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.
Psalm 139:7-12
Just because I can’t see God doesn’t mean He can’t see me.
I know hunters who have become disoriented in the dark of a moonless night and feared they might not survive.
In the black bowels of Colorado’s Cave of the Winds with the lights off, I couldn’t see my own hand. But God could.
Honestly, I’m glad.
I’m glad there’s nowhere I can go that He can’t find me.
I’m glad He sees me where I am and how I am, because He’s the only one who can pick me up, clean me off, and set me on my feet again.
Happy the day we stop hiding from Him and hide in Him instead.
~
Hide me in the shadow of Your wings. Psalm 17:8
Can I hide?
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Caleb hung the pitchfork on the wall and hauled in water from the hand pump. His new basin and pitcher rested on an upturned crate, and he washed his hands and face. He changed into his clean pants and shirt, thankful that he’d stopped by the barber’s the day before for a haircut.
If he wasn’t careful, gratitude might become a habit.
He reached for his Bible and found the passage he’d read last night by lamplight. Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
An honest question that Caleb hadn’t been willing to answer.
But he couldn’t hide from God forever. Not even in Cañon City at the edge of nowhere. It’d be a long winter if he kept running from the church folk in town, especially since he wanted to get a lot closer to one in particular. ~Loving the Horseman
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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January 21, 2024
Not One of Them Is Forgotten
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Sometimes we feel forgotten.
Unappreciated.
Overlooked.
Abandoned.
Unloved.
Alone.
But we’re not.
“Are not five sparrows sold
for two copper coins?
And not one of them is forgotten before God.
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
Do not fear, therefore;
you are of more value
than many sparrows.”
Luke 12:6-7
His eye is on the sparrow. It’s on us, too.
Don’t be afraid.
You're not forgotten.
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Cale looped the coil of rope over his shoulder again and pushed his hat off his brow. He smelled like horses, and Ella’s yearning grew. She’d been a fool to come West, into the heart of a country dependent upon the magnificent animals she’d once treasured and the men who rode them. Even more of a fool to accept Helen’s invitation to stay.
“Like I said before, you’ve got a way with horses. You’re at ease with both Doc and Barlow.” His voiced dropped. “But not with yourself.”
Ella jerked her head around. “How dare you presume. You know nothing about me.”
He studied the scarred mountain beyond her shoulder, a similar mark forming between his brows, then slowly met her glare. “You were white as new canvas that morning in town. My guess is, you once rode but you’re afraid to now. Is it because you think you can’t?”
Her breath stuck in her throat when he hit the mark, and his words reverberated through her like a clanging triangle. The man had no façade whatsoever. He was as open and uncomplicated as the country in which he lived.
Unwilling to expose her soul, her pain, her longing, she crossed her arms with a shudder. What would it be like to live as openly and bare-faced as he?
Again the clanging, only this time it was real, and he shoved his hat down and held out his hand. “Dinner’s on. We best be getting back.” ~A Change of Scenery
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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January 14, 2024
Circle of Service
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I prefer to shop for groceries early in the morning. That doesn’t mean I always make it. I just prefer it. There are fewer people and more available shopping carts. Shelves are recently stocked, and the nerves of checkers and staff are not yet worn down to the nubbins.
One morning as I stood in line for the “fast” lane, I took more than just a cursory notice of the woman at the bank of self-checkout machines.
She hovered there to help do-it-yourselfers like me who often don’t do it the way the machine thinks we should. I learned that she has worked 22 years for that store—ever since she first landed the job as an 18-year-old high school graduate.
I saw her in a different light that day. She, and others like her, faithfully served the community. Her job mattered to me. It mattered to a lot of people.
And then I realized that my job does too. It’s my job to give people something to relax with when they come home in the evening from a hard day on their feet.
It’s my job to write an entertaining but encouraging story into which they can escape for a while and then return to their world uplifted.
It’s my job to write a good book they will enjoy.
Observing readers in their real world helped me realize I could be a blessing to them doing my job as they are a blessing to me doing theirs.
It is a circle of service, one to another.
We all fit somewhere in that circle. Your job matters, whether you are working in the grocery store, teaching school, or caring for the aged and ill.
Even retirement is a job. Where are you helping and what are you doing that you didn’t have time for before? Who are you listening to or praying with?
Some of us may have unexpected callings we don’t see as important. Like elbows. Have you ever considered how people would eat without them?*
If you’re not sure where you fit in the circle of service, ask God to show you. He will.
There are different kinds of service,
but we serve the same Lord.
God works in different ways,
but it is the same God
who does the work in all of us.
1 Corinthians 12:5-6
~
*For further study, see 1 Corinthians 12:12-27
Where do you fit?
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“Ranger Graham says his father may have known one of your relations.” Helen set a plate of gingersnaps in the center of the table and took her place at the end.
“Pop was a ranger too,” Graham offered. “Worked with Haskell Jacobs up in Denver before Jacobs retired down here in Cañon City. He said Haskell married a gal from around here—Martha Stanton. You heard of her?”
Hugh thumbed through family history. It’d been a while since he’d thought of his pa’s sister, Martha Hutton Stanton. “That’s right. Martha had been widowed and later married a ranger by the name of Jacobs.”
“Did she have a brother?”
“That she did. Whit Hutton, my pa.” Hugh held the ranger’s regard, amazed at the tight circle sometimes found in unexpected connections.
“Well, I’ll be.” Helen shook her head and sipped her coffee.
“You’re almost family,” Mary said.
Hugh took her hand and also his first risk with his bride-to-be. But if he knew her like he thought he did, she’d agree to what he was about to tell the ranger.
“Maybe you can stay for the wedding.”
Helen choked on her coffee and grabbed her apron.
Graham grinned.
And Mary turned her hand over and linked her fingers with Hugh’s.
“She’s gonna do it!”
Every head turned for the screen door, where Kip and his brothers stood with their faces pressed against it.
“She’s gonna marry us!” ~Hope Is Built
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
#lovingthecowboy
(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
#WesternRomance #ChristianFiction #FreeBook #HistoricalRomance #CowboyRomance
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January 7, 2024
Power and Authority
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
My husband and I watch a lot of football and I enjoy it. I think it’s because I am goal-oriented (no pun intended). I like to see an objective and make plans to reach it, giving attention to process and detail along the way.
I also have found football games to be a type of narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, a protagonist, antagonist, and a plot line.
Sounds a lot like a novel, doesn’t it? Absolutely. Another reason I was never into television’s unending soap operas, whether daytime dramas or episodic evening series.
A fun sideline in football (again, no pun) is its perfect portrayal of a spiritual observation: the difference between power and authority. Both are elements of good football. Both are elements in life.
For example, it is the rare game during which obstacles, interceptions, or fumbles occur without a player or coach ranting in the face of the referee who—in the player or coach’s opinion—did not properly flag some sort of infraction.
I have watched giant men bounce up and down and back and forth, dwarfing the calm, stripe-shirted official who merely holds to his ruling and walks away.
The big guys have all the power in the world to flatten the much smaller one. But the official has all the authority.
I love that.
It reminds me of what Jesus told His disciples when he sent them out on a faith test-drive: “I give you the authority … over all the power of the enemy” (Luke 10:19).
Those disciples came back stoked.
In another reference, Jesus says, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth” (Matthew 28:18).
But there’s more.
“The Son radiates God’s own glory and expresses the very character of God, and he sustains everything by the mighty power of his command…” (Hebrew 1:3).
Many places in Scripture speak of God’s power. Here are a few references:
Revelation 4:11
Jude 1:25
2 Peter 1:3
Colossians 1:11
Phil 3:10
Ephesians 6:10 (10-18)
Hebrews 2:14-15
Romans 1:16, 20
The next time the enemy gets in your face, flexes his muscles, and rants and raves at you—
Tell Jesus. He also wore a striped shirt. (See Isaiah 53:5 NKJV.)
~
He also wore a striped shirt.
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Mary fought to hold in the sobs.
Helen stood over her and smoothed her hair. “Sleep, child. Give yourself a chance to rest. Everything will be all right. It always is.”
The bedroom door clicked shut, and Mary let the tears have their way. How could anything be all right ever again? Her barn was gone—the barn her aunt and uncle had given her. She’d endangered Sassy by not opening her stall door, and now she was in the Hutton home once again, unable to even stand. How much more could she take? How many more obstacles would she meet?
She had barely enough money to pay the taxes on the farm and must also pay the mortgage. But if she couldn’t prove who she was and the farm went to auction, that could drive the price even higher.
And her breeding stock. Now she had no place for them even if she got the farm.
Do not despair. The words rose from a deep place in her soul, but the image of the burning barn flared against them. Hope for a fresh start, for her own home and farm, was fading, overpowered by glaring destruction. ~ Hope Is Built.
*Image by Torsten Bolten, AFpix.de – Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index...
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December 31, 2023
Hard Times & Good Advice
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
An empty calendar and the first page of a blank journal mark my juncture of Known and Unknown. Behind me lie personal mountains of success and failure, as well as the mistakes, warnings, and recommendations of others along the way. But ahead of me?
In this new year, I want to make smart choices, most importantly when it comes to facing hard times. Good times are easy to handle, right? Especially when everything is going our way.
Hard times, not so much, but they are certain to come. We’re all smart (and old) enough to know that.
A couple thousand years ago, a man named James gave us a heads-up: “When [not if] troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow” (James 1: 2-3).
I’m not so good at connecting trouble with joy, but I do take great comfort in learning that faith and endurance are part of the deal. Faith comes from God, and endurance is the result of that faith.
Endurance means I’m going to have the strength to make it through the hard times, just like others I read about in the Bible.
In the freshening wind of warfare, the leader, Joshua, is told: “Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).Jesus tells His close followers, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).And the author of the book of Hebrews counsels his readers to live in contentment, not greed, “… because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you’” (Hebrews 13:5).I see a pattern here: God doesn’t abandon us.
However, if I had not been reading what He has to say, I wouldn’t know this.
Therefore, the most important advice I have received in my life is to read God’s word.
I am still amazed when comfort, encouragement, or strength result from the reading. Getting into the words of God and getting them into me is like soaking in a tub of warm water. Peace and relaxation follow.
The eternal words of the Creator sooth me as much as balm to aching muscles and heat to weary bones.
But some people argue, “The Bible is old-fashioned. It doesn’t address what I’m going through right now.” Or they ask, “Where are my problems mentioned? Where do I start reading?”
Often in Psalms I hear the cry of my heart echoed in the songs of the shepherd-king, David. However, it’s simply the act of going to the source of hope that assures I find hope.
In the aftermath of a recent negative situation, I discovered that God’s word was once again exactly what I needed.
Waking disgruntled in the mornings, repeatedly laying out arguments and retorts, left me agitated and distracted. But when I quieted myself first thing and settled in to read a chapter of Genesis, Psalms, or one of the gospels, the tension eased and drained away.
It didn’t matter if the passage echoed my situation or not, and that was the beauty of my discovery. As I read, I was somehow freed from the need to retaliate, justify, and defend.
When I settled into His word, His peace settled into me.
No buts about it. When I let go of “But God, she … But God, he … But God, they …” my heart relaxed and the barb—the hook in the bait I had bitten—fell out and slipped away.
I could have caught it as it fell and clutched it in my hand, but this time I didn’t, and it resulted in freedom. I could think again. Create again. Live again without the distracting, nagging irritation of throwing my own words at the problem and swallowing their bitter aftertaste.
In our world today, there is a lot being said. There is a lot to hear. Theories abound, many of them empty and useless, fragile shells with nothing on the inside.
Direction and peace are priceless commodities found nowhere but in God.
So I pass on to you what has been passed down to me: Familiarize yourself with what God has to say. Choose His ways, and like the psalmist, you’ll be able to declare,
Your word is a lamp for my feet,
a light on my path.
Psalm 119:105
~
When I settled into His word, His peace settled into me.
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My son, pay attention to what I say;
turn your ear to my words.
Do not let them out of your sight,
keep them within your heart;
for they are life to those who find them
and health to one’s whole body.
Proverbs 4:20-22
You have the words of eternal life.
John 6:68
On Monday morning, June 10, every scrap of peace Mary had cobbled together scattered like crumbs. Up well before dawn, dressed and ready, she trimmed the bedside lamp and sat with Aunt Bertie’s Bible clutched hard against her chest.
“I know You hear my prayer, Lord. Please, help me today.”
Turning to Psalm 37, she lifted the thin chain, fastened it around her neck, and read the now-familiar words: Do not fret.
The wicked would be stopped, the psalm said.
“Trust in the Lord and do good,” she whispered as she fingered the locket, willing the words to sink down into her very core. “Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.”
God had certainly been faithful, delivering her from violent death and ensconcing her in the generosity of the Hutton family. Continuing in silence, she read to verse 34, where she closed the Bible. The verse was imprinted on her soul, and she prayed it would apply to the ordeal she faced today at the auction.
Wait on the Lord, and keep His way, and He shall exalt you to inherit the land. ~Colorado Book Award, Hope Is Built
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(c) 2024 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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December 24, 2023
The Two Josephs
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
When we think of the first Christmas (which was not called that at the time), we usually think of Mary and the infant Jesus huddled somewhere on the outskirts of an over-crowded Bethlehem during the first century.
No light other than oil or candle. No bedding other than straw and cloak. No heat other than the body and breath of animals.
But what of Mary’s husband, the carpenter? Joseph. A man clearly not in control of the situation.
Joseph was poor. Forced by the government to appear in his hometown for a census, he traveled there with his fiancé who was carrying someone else’s baby, and now he was sleeping in a barn.
However, he’d been hand-picked for the job.
He could have said, “Not my baby, not my problem.” But he didn’t.
Thirty–three years later another man named Joseph showed up on the scene. Important and wealthy, he was stirred by the words of a carpenter-turned-teacher who died because of those words. The teacher had no home, much less a burial place, so Joseph provided one and covered the cost of the burial.
He could have said, “Not my relative, not my responsibility.” But he didn’t.
In this story of the two Josephs, we see men who were listening. Men who were paying attention. Men who were doing the best they could with what they had but were willing to bookend the entry and exit of God’s son on earth.
They were the kind of men God chose to care for His only begotten at birth and death. One sheltered a helpless infant, one cared for a lifeless body.
Both held Messiah in their arms.
As we consider the two Josephs, may we ask ourselves how we will care for the Creator. Will He have the best that we can give? Is He welcome in the best we have to offer – our very own hearts?
Or is He not our baby this Christmas season? Not our problem.
The Two Josephs:
Matthew 1:18-2:23; Luke 2:1-24
Matthew 27:57-60; John 19:38-42
Not my problem.
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(c) 2023 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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December 17, 2023
Simplify the Season
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Remember when Christmas was simple?
You were probably a child.
Gifts
Pine trees
Lights
Music
As adults we complicate things.
Parties
Pre-lit trees
Shopping without end
Credit
Can we simplify the season—enjoy it without getting caught up in the hoopla? Celebrate the Child?
This year, a couple of one-year-olds in our family celebrated their birthdays. Actually, they didn’t celebrate at all. They merely watched wide-eyed as moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins made a big deal out of the small darlings.
It reminded me of wealthy strangers showing up with very grown-up gifts a couple thousand years ago at the home of a toddler* named Yeshua**.
No Fischer-Price toys in those camel-bags. No cute onesies with a favorite football team logo on the front. No stuffies to snuggle with at night.
Instead, the men from the east brought hard-coin cash, high-dollar perfume, and burial oil. Ever wonder what mom and dad thought of that?
When I look at our little ones, I imagine Jesus at their age and it’s hard to see him with a halo and folded hands, sitting meekly at Mary’s feet. Dirty diapers and scuffed knees come to mind instead.
Undignified? Not really.
I see him tumbling and squealing and crying, just like our youngsters.
He took the hard way into our humanness—childhood. There is no phase of our growing and living with which he cannot relate.
Mary wiped his nose, bandaged his scrapes, and kissed those pudgy palms that would one day hold the nails.
This year, let’s simplify our Christmas. Let’s recognize, remember, and rejoice over the Gift God gave us.
~
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government
will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
Simplify the season
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** Hebrew for Jesus
The mare grazed in the center of a small pasture but came to the fence when they dismounted.
“Looking for a handout?” Dave rubbed beneath her forelock.
“What’s her name?” Georgia asked.
He shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“You didn’t just roll your eyes.” She bit the inside of her cheek.
“Yes, I did. Can’t help it. Craziest name I’ve ever heard for a horse.”
“So are you going to tell me or make me guess?”
“You’d never guess.”
“I am a writer, you know. I name all the horses in my books.”
He slid her a side glance, daring her to try.
“Come on, give me a hint.”
“It’s connected to Christmas and it’s biblical.”
She’d not expected that turn. This might be harder than she thought. “All right, how about Bethlehem?”
He scoffed. “No.”
“Manger?”
“No.”
“I’m sure it isn’t Magi.”
He threw her an odd look.
“Is it? Is it Magi? Wouldn’t that be a better name for a gelding?”
“No, it’s not Magi.”
It wasn’t Shepherd, Angel, Hosanna, or Gloria either.
“I give up. Tell me.”
Dave faced her and leaned an elbow on the top rail. “What’ll you give me in exchange?” ~A Mistletoe Christmas
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(c) 2023 Davalynn Spencer, all rights reserved.
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