"I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands." - Psalm 143:5

Monday, December 22, 2014

A Man of Hope

 

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To understand hope is to capture a vision of how God sees life.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13

I do believe that hope is oxygen for our souls… it breathes life into the empty part of our souls. Hope makes you believe redemption is possible.

I recently taught on hope (you can here it here, just look on the episodes menu for HOPE), but I am so aware how much I need to learn about abounding in hope. Part of it is how I choose to remember, how I choose to worship and how I choose to trust. Hope grows in a grateful heart, hope thrives in a heart that worships the Father and hope abounds in the heart where He lives.

I want to be a man of hope

It is important to me to live like there is a God of hope inside of me. Does that mean that it always looks like I have my act together? That I never doubt, waver or melt under the weight of circumstances beyond my control? No…it means my life points to a God of hope in the middle of all life, the good, the bad and the ugly.

Abounding with hope means there is heaps of hope to share, gallons of hope to ooze out of my life and saturate those around me. There is a generous God of hope living in us filling us with the life the world so desperately needs.

Let’s be people of hope.

Wet with Hope

I have touched life with handfuls of hope
Letting it run through my fingers
Soaking all I wear
Wetting my pathway

I take my still wet hands to my face
and wipe it clean
My eyes clear once more
I see the place where I’m standing
It’s wet with hope
Uplifting my position

Jay Cookingham © December 16, 2002

 

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Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Home for Christmas


 

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She peered from her dingy apartment window, wiping the frost with the sleeve of her sweater so she could see more clearly. A light snow was falling making the city streets outside her old brownstone a clean carpet of white. Sally was eagerly awaiting a delivery from the local grocery store containing the simple items for her dinner tonight. It was Christmas Eve and Sally wanted to celebrate this special time, at least in a small way. Over 90 and in failing health, it was to be a bittersweet celebration for sure. A few years ago her husband Samuel became gravely ill. To her great sorrow, he faded quickly and went home to be with the Lord on the eve of his favorite day—Christmas.

Sally loved her “Sammy”, so it was hard imagining celebrating tonight alone. He was so alive around Christmas and always seemed his happiest around the holidays. Every Christmas Eve he would sing, laugh—sometimes scooping her up from her chair for a dance. He would put on a Santa hat and say, “Come on sweetie, I saved a dance for my best gal!” Afterwards they would cuddle-up on the couch, sip tea, and read the story of the Savior’s birth. When midnight came they would run to their small tree, and like giggling children, rip open all the gifts.

The crunch of snow and the sight of a tall figure coming down the sidewalk carrying bundles snapped her back to her vigil. Sally watched the trudging shape come up the stairs and ring the bell to her apartment. Drawing her sweater around her neck to guard against the cold, she opened the door and let the familiar face inside. It was Manny, a young man in his twenties or so, who had been delivering her groceries for a few months now.

“Mrs. Hamilton, how good to see you! Merry Christmas!” Manny said with a booming voice.

“Merry Christmas Manny, come in, come in.” Sally said excitedly.

“Shall I carry these to the kitchen?” Manny asked.

“Oh, please do, please do, I’m so wound up, I need to start cooking right away!” Sally replied.

Manny carried the bags into the narrow kitchen, where Sally began to unpack her goodies. She place the items, a small ham, some potatoes, a can of green beans and a box of Earl Grey tea, on her small kitchen table

With a hint of tears in her eyes, Sally mused, “My Sammy sure did love his spot of tea.”

Sorrow threatened to swallow the moment and her thoughts filled with emotion. How could she celebrate after all these years of placing Christmas in the shadows? She decided that she must, this Christmas seemed fresh and ready to embrace again. Besides, her heart sensed the Messiah's presence more than ever and she could always celebrate Him.

Dabbing at her eyes with her apron Sally soon looked up and hesitantly asked, “Manny, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Why, I would love to Mrs. H,…absolutely love to!” Manny replied cheerfully.

The two of them set about fixing the meal, laughing, singing, and even enjoying a silly dance to Jingle Bell Rock playing on the radio. Soon the kitchen was warm, filled with a wonderful aroma and alive with memories. During dinner Sally told story after story of her husband Sammy and the love he had for Jesus.

Sally became quiet and Manny could see the pain of loneliness in her eyes. They were sipping their tea when Sally asked, “I’m so tired Manny, will you help me to the couch?” Manny helped the weary Mrs. Hamilton to the couch, laying her head gently on a quilted pillow. Covering Sally with a blanket, Manny then pulled a small box from his jacket and said, “It’s almost midnight Mrs. H, this is for you …Merry Christmas.”

The package wrapped with golden paper and with a bow of the purest white surprised Sally; she had never seen a more beautiful package. Taking the gift from Manny, Sally was momentary speechless. With childlike excitement, she started to open the present, pausing when she saw the prize within. Inside was a golden key with a small note that looked like an invitation. On the inside it read.

To: Sally Hamilton, a key to your new home.

“Manny…what does this mean?” Sally asked.

“Mrs. H.” Manny said. “You have been such a servant all your life, giving so unselfishly, that my employer wanted to give you something special this Christmas.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, your employer Mr.Reynolds is giving me a house? Sally asked.

Manny, smiling now said, “No Mrs. H, I work for someone a bit higher than Mr. Reynolds. Anyway, I’m just a messenger and I’ll be announcing your arrival there soon.”

“Manny, I still don’t see…” Sally wondered out loud.

“It’s simple, you have been faithful Mrs. H, and the Lord wants you home with Him.” Manny said.

Her eyes widening a bit, Sally whispered, “You mean…I’m really going… oh, I can hardly keep my eyes open, what is happening to me Manny?” Sally asked.

Manny replied softly, “It’s time for a homecoming Mrs. H…Sammy is saving a dance for you”

They were quiet for a few minutes when Sally spoke in a hushed voice and asked, “Am I going to see my Sammy when I open my eyes Manny?’

She was already home when he answered, “Yes Sally, and so much more.”

The End

Jay Cookingham © 2002

 

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Thursday, December 11, 2014

What Child is This?


 

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It was just another cry from a newborn, his cries already muted by the sounds of animals sharing his birth place. He was one of the many little Hebrew lives entering the world that night, just one of the ones born in the cold to poor, struggling parents, on a journey not of their choosing.

All across Israel, an ordered census drew people to distant towns and faraway villages. A census of numbers, not the value of lives, mirrored the soul journeys of thousands searching for more. The cruel political climate is as dark as the night and the spiritual landscape, darker still. There seems no journey away from this oppression, no passage of freedom that affords an opportunity to breathe unhindered. This night poses questions from hearts chained and bound by a force more domineering that the oppressors now ruling this land.

Why was this child born?

Why this couple?

Why this little backwards town?

Why now?

What child is this?

Into poisoned humanity a son is born, a baby wrapped in fragileness and vulnerability but with redemption blood flowing in his veins. He is a message of hope to a world looking for something or someone to put it out of its collective misery. This baby, needing the protection and nurturing of Mary and Joseph, is born for a world needing him. Needing light to dispel the darkness that seeks the souls of humanity, love to collect hearts back to the Father, peace for the minds overwhelmed by strife and forgiveness to free all corrupted by sin’s disease.

When Jesus came, redemption came and courageously reclaimed sons and daughters for the Kingdom. Messiah came, deliverance came, the Good News came, and life more abundantly came. Born of a virgin, God imparts Himself into humanity and births new life for world looking for a way to live again. Immanuel…God with us, always with us.

What child is this?

This, this is Christ the King…my King!

“She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1:21

 

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