Of greater concern to me is that for a long time I took my salvation for granted. I didn’t live in the beauty and power of what Jesus accomplished for me because I felt resentment for the challenges in my life. Because of this, I lacked contentment. I missed the joy of the Lord.

Barney taught me about life on the streets. Before knowing him, I understood that not everyone who lives on the street is an addict or a criminal. My friendship with him brought this fact to life.

Life in this sinful world deeply affects us. Routine days can distract us from our losses, but the focus of the holiday once again brings them front and center.

I thought my leader would offer a theological rebuke and remove me from my ministry responsibilities. Instead, he asked, “Why don’t you ask God to reveal Himself to you? He wants you to know and trust Him.”

Even when snow fell after the tulips and daffodils came up, we knew that warmer days were coming and the snow would quickly melt. There was hope for pleasant days ahead.

The soldiers, the chief priests and scribes, those who were crucified with Him, and the people passing by all stood in the presence of true perfection. Their shame exploded in contempt for the Perfect One.

Like the older brother, my way of trying to appease my earthly father, and as it turns out, my Heavenly Father, was to do everything I was told. If I’m compliant, then he/He will be pleased, and all will be well. I will have earned favor. I will be safe. And I may even experience being valued.

I didn’t think my faith could sustain another broken dream and so I didn’t chance it. I denied myself the privilege.

It is a test of our faith to believe in the goodness of God when no relief comes to the weariness and heartaches of life. Will we believe that God is who He says He is and we are who He says we are when He is silent and unmoving?

The first bill arrived. My roommate and I were flabbergasted at the sum we owed. We couldn’t imagine the reason for the total. We checked in the crawl space of the storage and attic and discovered that the roof had no proper insulation.

A new year has begun. What will the next twelve months hold for us? Change for the good? Hard times? Routine days? We won’t know until the end of December all that we will experience in the fifty-two weeks ahead.

But in every program, every musical or pageant that I led, there came a time in the service when a hush came over the congregation.

When I went to visit him in his home in the years before his death, I told him in our chats how much I learned from him. He’d forget what I said so I’d tell him again. It was important to me that he knew.

Choosing to make amends and choosing to be grateful takes practice. Left to ourselves, we’d be just like little children who say the words but don’t mean it.

My friend listened patiently, then asked, “What do you think it would take for you to believe that God loves you?”

My hand opened and I began pointing to each finger, angrily listing off my demands.

My competitive side kicked in. A plan came together and I geared up for the big night. I couldn’t wait for the children to guess my costume.

As the evening wore on and we enjoyed a potluck meal together, I found that I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t eat and could barely take a sip of water.

I didn’t have enough apples. I couldn’t run to the store for more. I didn’t have the cash flow to cover it, and I needed to teach the Kindergartners. I couldn’t leave. Others couldn’t either. It was a jam-packed morning.

“I didn’t care for my name because it represented the shame I carried about myself. I felt unworthy of a name I considered lovely.”

“I believed if I had made a better decision–the right decision–there would be no unpleasant consequences. It was my fault.”