As usual, I have my list of people to buy presents for. Parents, sister, brother-in-law, nephews, grandmother, friends, etc. The list goes on. But what about the Child in the manger? The one who became the Messiah and Savior? What will I give Him this year? What would He want from me? After all, it is His birthday we’re celebrating.

I think more than any talent or activity, He wants my heart. He wants me to love who He loves, to hate what He hates for what it does to the people He loves. He wants my heart to break for the things that break His heart. He wants every ounce of my passion and emotion to burn for Him and Him only.

Also, I think He wants me to be able to recognize Him in His various guises. He may be that person sitting by themselves at Kairos or the homeless lady pushing a shopping cart down Broadway. He may the AIDS patient spending Christmas alone in a hospital room or a mother grieving over the children she will never have. Wherever the least of these are, He’s there.

He wants me to not just recognize Him there, but to feed Him, clothe Him, minister to Him, cry with Him, and spend time with Him. When we give even a cup of cold water in His name to one of the outcast and broken, we are giving it to Jesus.

He wants me to be Him to those around me. He wants others to see Jesus in me and not pat me on the back or say how great and wonderful I am, but how glorious and awesome is this Jesus! After all, the only beautiful part of me is Jesus in me, shining through me, and loving others with my hands, my feet, and my heart.

That’s what I want to give Jesus for His birthday: me.

I found out the hard way that sometimes blessings come through brokenness and restoration comes in the form of loving rebuke. I found out some things about myself that I didn’t like. I found out that I was quite frankly being a bit of an idiot in an area of my life.

I am socially awkward at best. I know that. But I apparently come on too strong without meaning to when I am trying to get to know a girl. My intentions are friendship, but I think I try too hard. No, I know I try too hard. So that’s out in the open. I had a friend tonight who gently rebuked me on that, for which I am eternally grateful and indebted.

Sometimes, the sin is not necessarily in transgressing God’s laws or in overt rebellion againt God, but it is a failure to be weak enough to let God do all and be all in and through me. When I think I can somehow manipulate or contort my way in a situation, it means I am not trusting God nearly enough.

And sometimes when I am wronged or hurt, I have to recognize that my own angry reaction to that hurt is just as sinful. Roy Hession says that the wrong action is like the splinter in my friend’s eye, but my unloving reaction is like a beam in my own eye. I can only be convicted of my own sin and must first confess my fault and take it to the cross and leave it there.

This blog feels like a complete mess, but that’s what I feel like. A beautifully broken, holy mess that God loves. I am a work in progress, but I am also the one Jesus loves.

Jesus, thank you for brokenness, for without it I can never truly be made whole.

Amen.

Chris August has a song called No Far Away. The gist of the song is that God is never far away, no matter where we end up in life. And whenever we try to run from God, we end up running to God instead. Whether I’m climbing spiritual heights or bunking in hell, God is there. I like that God is near. The same God who came near to us as an infant is never more than a whisper away.

I am left without words after another fantastic night of fellowship. I have friends who take me as I am and love me that way. My family loves me, and I consider this group to be part of my family now. I think I am beginning to really grasp true authentic biblical koinonia (greek for fellowship) where the Jesus in others meets the Jesus in me.

I love the fact that my cat brings me presents. She left me a freshly-killed Christmas sock today in her food bowl. Either that or it’s a supplication to the food bowl gods for more food.

If you are open to God and all He has for you, life becomes a series of surprises. You never know where or how He will lead, only that He has never and will never steer you wrong. That I know for sure. If you have your eyes open and are really awake to the mysteries, you will see God all around you and His handiwork in every part of your life.

Jesus, you are my everything. You love me through so many ways and so many people. You can take a goober like me and make me a vessel to pour out your love to the world. That never fails to boggle my mind. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!

I am so not good at waiting. In fact, I intensely dislike waiting. I see commercials every day that tell me not to wait, to get it now before this amazing deal ends. I am ADD, so I am not programmed to wait well. But that is what I am called to do.

Today at Fellowship Bible Church, Lloyd Shadrach taught about waiting. He said people treat the word “wait” like it’s a four-letter word. A bad four-letter word. But it is a four letter word that can be spelled G-I-F-T. Every time we wait on God is a gift meant to teach us that we are not in control and we really don’t want to be in control. Think of Bruce in Bruce Almighty and you get the picture.

“Every wait is a pregnancy,” Lloyd said, “and God is birthing something in your soul for your good and for His glory.” Something else he said really resonated with me. The time between the first prophecy of the Messiah and the Incarnation was 4,000 years. Above all those who were waiting on the promise, the one who waited the longest was God. For God to wait lifts the term up and gives it new meaning. The same God who calls us to wait on Him was willing to wait on His own promise.

Also interesting, the words wait and hope are used interchangeably in the Bible, particularly in Psalm 130. “I wait for the LORD, my soul does wait, and in His word do I hope” (Psalm 130:5).

Waiting is more than sitting by a celestial phone, waiting for the next order. Waiting is actively trusting God and pursuing after His heart. Waiting is being transformed into the likeness of Christ. Waiting is hard work, but so worth it.

Lord, I will wait on you as long as it takes. I surrender my illusions of control over my life. Take my life, my love, my all and do whatever You want with it, whenever You want, however You want.

Amen.

“Each one of here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them – we can love completely without complete understanding” (from A River Runs Through It).

This is a letter I wish I could have written or something I wish I could have said to two of my uncles while they were still alive.

I think about you quite a lot now that you’re gone. I still feel the void whenever the family gets together at the annual reunion and I keep expecting each of you to come walking up the driveway with your distinctive gaits. I can still hear your laughter and see your smiles.

I would tell you that I loved you. I don’t think I told either of that while you were living, but I did. You were different from each other and from everybody else, but that’s what made you special. You were you.

I would tell you that I have so many questions. Like how did you figure the whole uncle thing out? And have you heard the Beatles Mono Box Set?

I would tell you that I was so very proud of you. You each had hard lives and made some bad choices, but you never gave up. You both fought to the end. I never appreciated how strong you were then, but I do now.

I’d give almost anything to have one more conversation with both of you and be able to tell you the things I can only write now. I think that in the end, despite all your failures and mistakes and bad choices, you ended up as heroes in my book. And I think in God’s book, too.

I can hear Jesus telling you, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You held on and never gave up. You believed in me through every possible storm and never stopped fighting. Enter into your rest.”

Being spiritually mature means being obedient. A friend of mine I was chatting with just now said something like this: God doesn’t call us to be mature, but to be obedient. I think he’s right. Obedience leads to maturity. We try to be obedient and leave the results to God.

That being said, if I am seeking God and following after the heart of Christ, then I don’t need praise. I don’t need to be constantly recognized, approved, applauded, patted on the back, etc. I don’t need to be the center of attention or even to be noticed. I come to the place where pleasing God is enough. Where I am willing to walk alone if need be.

I am a recovering co-dependent. So much of how I viewed myself for so long depended on how I perceived how others saw me. And I saw rejection from others. I see now I projected my own feelings of worthlessness onto others. Those people you are so worried about what they think of you are probably wondering what you think of them. We are all insecure at some level.

If I am faithful, it shouldn’t matter who keeps up with my status updates on facebook. I won’t be obsessed over how many comments and “likes” I get. It won’t matter whether I get 50 people to read this blog. . . or 5. .  . .or sometimes 1. Even if that one person is me! My job is to do what I believe God has called me to do. Period. Be faithful and obedient. God will take care of the results.

That’s all I got for tonight. I am feeling sleep-deprived. But thankful. I am thankful for my family who loves and supports and encourages me. I am thankful for all my friends who know me and still stick around anyway. I am thankful that my Abba is still very fond of me.

Amen and amen!

I originally wrote this as a facebook note on January 20, 2009 after my grandmother passed away from Alzheimer’s.