May My Heart See...

I find it highly ironic that the season of joy – Christmas – can be for some the most depressing time of the year.   I’m not going to pretend that this time of year is stress-free, wonderful and perfect for me.   It isn’t.     There’s cookies to bake and presents to buy. There’s practices and programs, gift exchanges and decorating. Then it snows and all is frozen. The Christmas tree falls over. The dog wrecks the garland. The meeting runs late. The money is gone.   Stressed, pouting and complaining, I’ve heard it all and done it too.   It’s exhausting! Where’s the joy?   WHERE?  Joy is infectious but it has to start somewhere.   It can start with you, and it can start with me. No matter how much needs to be done, or where I have to go, I start my morning quietly in the presence of my God.   Because joy is waking up and thanking God that you did. Quiet prayer, heartfelt worship. Holy Spir...

  I’ve never experienced anything like this before.  I mean I have heard the story million of times.  I’ve sang the carols, I’ve watched the play.  I’ve seen the scene in the manger.  But this . . . .  never.       Maybe its cause I spent the last two hours singing Angels We Have Heard On High from the rooftop – literally.  I don’t know.  All I know is that I will never forget last Sunday EVER.   I get choked up just thinking about it . . . .   There, in the manger, was Joseph, Mary and Baby Jesus.  They looked so real. Wait, they were real – it was the dress rehearsal for Journey to Bethlehem which my church, Family of Christ, is hosting.  Three nights in December where the public could experience a glimpse of Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth.    I’m playing one of the angels on the roof – outside.  Yes, I said outside, on the roof of the church, the first week of D...