Tuesday With Teri

Devotions from lessons I'm learning from God

Abigail and Breath Holding March 30, 2024

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 9:06 am
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In a sermon last week our pastor said, “Don’t rush to the cross.” Out of context, this seems contrary to the “run to the cross” to find God, forgivenss and grace message. But this message was a reminder that sometimes we get in a hurry to celebrate the resurection of Christ, and we miss the important, and necessary, events that take us to that day. This has settled in my heart this week. I am guilty of rushing excitedly, like a child released into an Easter egg hunt field, to gleefully embrace the celebration of Easter, Resurection Day! But the days leading to the cross now sit deep in my thoughts. Today my three granddaughters left after visiting us for a few days. The days were filled with glorious chaos and when they left it was startling how quiet and still the house became. I let out a breath I did not even realize I was holding. Was that first Easter like that? From chaos to stillness…a breath holding pause most did not even know they held. A closed tomb….a waiting world. Here again is my Abigail…this memory will always take away my breath and fill my heart.

Abigail:

          I’ve lost track of how many years ago it was, yet each Spring I can’t
help but recall my introduction to Abigail.  I was a high school
science/Bible teacher for a small Christian school at the time. One of my
students was a football sized young man named Nick.  He worked for a local
farmer who had offered him a young lamb to take home.  Nick’s mom,
apparently destined for sainthood, not only allowed him to bring the lamb home,
but he got to keep it in his room!  Early that Spring Nick brought photos
to share.  To my amazement, there, wedged beside his bed and amid typical
teenage squalor, was a carefully built pen, complete with wood rails, chicken
wire and hay.  Abigail the lamb had found a perfect home.  Over the
next few weeks Nick would have numerous stories to tell of Abigail’s
antics.  I couldn’t wait to see her for myself, so I invited Nick to bring
her to school one morning.

          I ushered my entire class outside and we waited like giddy preschoolers
for Abigail’s arrival.  I am certain I will never be able to adequately
describe what I saw that day.  I will do my best.  We watched as Nick
emerged from his vehicle with Abigail cradled in his big burly arms.  We
stood transfixed by the sight of what can only be inadequately referred to as 
precious”. 
Her pure, white coat seemed almost translucent, radiating light under the
bright blue, cloudless sky.   Her tiny nose was a perfect, pink
velvet triangle perched just above her little pink mouth.    As
I placed my hand on her sweet little head, she looked at me.  I found
myself staring into the depths of clear, brilliant blue eyes.  I realized
I had been holding my breath in awe.  We were expecting to see a cute
lamb, somewhat off white in color.  I had not considered that, unlike the
lambs at the local petting zoo, Abigail had been living in a clean, loving,
environment.  After everyone had made Abigail’s acquaintance, Nick left to
return her home and we settled back into Bible class.

          We soon realized the relevance of Abigail’s visit as we continued our
study of Passover.  The original Passover took place when Moses was
leading the Israelites out of Egypt.  God instructed them to mark their
door post with the blood of a male lamb.  This was to protect them from
the final plague which was the death of all first born in any home not so
protected. (Exodus 11&12) The yearly commemoration of this event required
the father to select the best, blemish free lamb and set it apart for the
Passover…four days prior to the celebration.  My students and I began to
consider something quite startling.  There was a good chance that the lamb
would have been brought into the house or yard during that time.  This
perfect little lamb, probably as precious and sweet as our Abigail, may have
clamored under their feet while they did chores, fed out of their hands and
shared a living area.  After four days, this lamb, which by now had become
even more precious to the family, was to be sacrificed.   Suddenly
one can imagine the cries of the children, the quite sob of their mother, the
sorrow in the eyes of the father who knows a blood sacrifice is required.
  For the first time, since meeting Abigail, we could truly envision
the “sacrificial lamb” of the Scriptures.

          The continued observance of Passover was a powerful object lesson for
generations of Israelites.  Every family member would be reminded not only
of God’s protection and provision when He freed them from slavery, but also of
the cost…the blood of their most precious lamb.  This Easter we consider
the final sacrifice.  Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, perfect and precious
beyond description, was sacrificed for our sin.  Many movies and videos
have stirred the heart of man as they depict the brutal crucifixion of our
Christ, yet none can compare to the vision of Abigail.  As we celebrate our
freedom from sin and death through the resurrection of our Lord, let’s never
forget the cost.  Praise God His love and grace make us worthy of such a
sacrifice!

1 Peter 1:18-19 

“Knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like
silver or gold…but with precious blood, as a lamb unblemished and spotless, the
blood of Christ.”

 

The Angel waits December 24, 2023

 

She is here…she is waiting.  Our beloved Christmas tree angel has survived another year.  The years have not been kind.  Her hair continues to fall away and there is little left of her once radiant halo.  Her
misshaped hand clings to a barely recognizable candle and the glue keeping her head attached has discolored and cracked…but she is still here waiting.  She is waiting for our daughter Ashley’s arrival.  She will place her atop our tree, a tradition that gets more entertaining each year now that her dad can no longer easily lift her up to accomplish the task.  

 

Once again I find myself connected to this angel as I consider the wait. Waiting is
hard.  When my granddaughters struggle with waiting I let them know I understand… “I know it’s hard to
wait.”  My daughter-in-law sent me a sweet video of our little Brooklyn telling her friend when they were  told itwas not time for dinner yet, “My friend Nana says it’s hard to wait”.  I hear her little voice in my head today as I think about how hard it is to wait even now.  Waiting for closure, answers, direction, healing, growth…waiting for things to be clear, for conflicts to be resolved, for chaos and confusion to
settle into order and understanding…waiting is hard.  While we wait there is work to do, people to love and the hope and grace through Jesus Christ to share.

 “I wait for the Lord. My whole being waits, and in His Word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:5

Here again, the annual retelling of “The Christmas Tree Angel”.

 Merry Christmas dear friends and family.

I’m not sure where she came from. (update: someone recognized
her and informed me she is a Nuremberg angel!) I’m not even certain of her
age. (update: As a Nuremberg angel, we probably acquired her when my
family lived in Germany when dad was in the Air Force…this would make her well
over 50 yrs!)

She sat atop the Christmas tree for many of my growing up years,
quietly presiding over each holiday season.  I acquired her from my mother
many years ago.

Her gold foil, cardboard wings, once ended in perfect points
extending her stature to seven inches.  Now her wing span is slightly
reduced, as the tips went from being slightly bent, to folded, until they
eventually tore off.  Her dark red velvet dress, trimmed with gold brick
brack, fits snuggly to her waist before flowing over her cardboard form. 
Her once silky, radiant white hair, now hangs in brittle coils around her
shoulders.  A little gold foil halo covers a place on her head where some
of her hair has given way to the passage of time.

Her head and hands are made of wax, as is the candle she holds in
one hand.  I remember her as a beautiful lady, her face perfect and
delicate.  Those qualities are now faded.  Her head, once held high
and straight, has melted somewhat.  It now bows lovingly downward and a
bit to the right.  Two years ago a significant amount of time and effort
was put into re-attaching her long held candle to her now miss shaped
hand.  Yep, she’s a bit of mess you might say.  I like that about
her.

She doesn’t light up or sparkle, and quite often she is too small
for the tree, making her look even more out of place.  But I look forward
to her presence in my living room each Christmas.  Late at night, when the
tree is lit and others have gone on to bed, I find myself thinking of her and
all we have in common.

I too, know what it’s like to have my wings bent and torn.  I
know what it feels like when your body gives itself over to the challenges of
time.  My hair is no longer silky or radiant, and I only wish had a halo
to hide the places where it has become thin.  I understand the sagging of
her shoulders and the bowing of her head.  I have felt the weight every
mother bears for her family.  I know the need to bow my head in constant
prayer.   I love her imperfection.  She’s a holiday reminder
that God loves us in our imperfection
.

A love full of grace, a savior born to take on the sin of the world,
a reason to celebrate, reflected in the melted features and unraveled edges of
our Christmas tree Angel.

 

 

An Anchored Buoy December 17, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 3:20 pm
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          We have just returned from a phenomenal cruise visiting Christmas markets along the Rhine River in Germany.  The journey home was a 24-hr. ordeal and today’s dark and stormy forecast is perfect for recovery naps and revisiting memories.  After scrolling through our vacation photos, the rain on our metal roof lulled me to sleep.  I expected my dreams to be filed with visions of Christmas markets, castles, mulled wine and bratwurst…but instead a single image ran through my mind. It seemed important at the time…I suppose now I know why. This would be His reminder to me of His love in the advent season.

    Our river cruise was impacted by record-breaking high-water levels on the Rhine.  Due to a massive accumulation of snow the previous week and subsequent melt, the normally serene Rhine had become a raging river in some areas.  We could see the power of the swift current as it passed bridges, barges and boats.  At one point we saw an anchored buoy, used to mark a channel, straining against the almost violent flow.  Water rushed around it as it leaned but remained unmoved, tethered to a permanently set anchoring stone.

          Today, as I sit to write this post, this image feels powerful. A wonderful image of faith.  My faith serves as a buoy and an anchor in my life.  My faith has held me up through raging waters.  My faith has kept me from becoming overwhelmed, has kept me afloat and helped me find my way.  My faith is a confident anchor, I will not be moved.  I am tethered to my God; He will not let me be whisked away by the ever-changing and challenging world.  He is my anchor and my buoy.

           I have this faith because even while there is so much in life I do not know, there is one thing of which I am certain, one thing I know to be true, unchanging, unshakable and constant…God loves me. (and you)

    I know this because His Word tells me so….”For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

    I also know this because I have experienced His love.  He has used countless people in my life to love, comfort, encourage and correct me.  These people often showed up at the perfect time, in the perfect way, no doubt a part of God’s plan for me. 

    I have known His love through endless mercy and grace.  I have frequently stumbled and fallen personally, in private and in public, and each time God has redeemed me.  I have known forgiveness of which I am unworthy.  I have suffered consequences for my choices, but I know the blessing of instruction/correction and not destruction from a God of love. 

    I have felt His provision for me monetarily, circumstantially and emotionally when I looked to Him in the midst of my storms.   When I sought Him, He was there.  When I wandered, He was there.  When I was strong and growing, He was there.  When I was weak and broken, He was there.  His LOVE is an anchoring and buoy sort of love.  It is a LOVE that marks the way and keeps us afloat.  It is LOVE that holds firm.

          In knowing this great love, let us remember to be quick to share the love with all whom God places in our lives.

Let this be our prayer:

…that Christ may dwell in our hearts through faith; and that we, being rooted and grounded in love, my be able to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth, and to KNOW the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that we may be filled up with the fulness of God and overflow His love to others.Based on Ephesians 3:17-19

 

Peace Thievery December 16, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 10:37 am

Peaceful things:  Quiet mornings, a good book and a crackling fireplace, sleeping children, snowflakes floating through the air, calm gatherings, silent nights and the glow of Christmas lights.

Not so-peaceful things: Running late, contentious conversations, work deadlines/pressure, driveways waiting to be shoveled, horns honking impatiently, crowded stores and the non-stop Christmas carols blaring out of speakers.

I have known both…I have soaked in plenty of peaceful moments and struggled through non-peaceful seasons of life.  I have also been a peace stealer.  I obviously do not say this to brag, but in hope that my admission helps others who have a similar tendency.

How do I steal peace you may ask…I have a few “go to” methods.  The first of which impacts my poor beloved more than anyone else. 

For example (sadly this is just one of many):  When the kids were young, attending a Christmas Eve church service was part of our tradition. Our normally adequately large sanctuary would fill to standing room only for this special service.  Arriving early is my husband’s love language…he HATES to be late.  A late arrival at a Christmas Eve service would make sitting together with family and friends impossible and parking a nightmare.  And yet, for some reason (because I am a peace thief) I would mismanage my time causing us to be sliding into the parking lot, racing to the pew, disheveled children in tow, a flustered spouse and I still lacking a sense of urgency.  My thoughtlessness effortlessly whisked away any chance for my poor hubby to have a peaceful evening.

My ability to snatch peace from family or friends with my words is astonishing even to me.   Perhaps born out of my personal struggle with anxiety, but when someone shares their first steps toward a dream, or a risk they are considering, or a new idea, my mind instantly swarms with all manner of “what if” s and worst-case scenarios…far too often these thoughts ooze outward pressing my worries into their mindset.  I realize I am not always responsible for the peace, or lack of peace, others feel, but these days I am more mindful of the impact of my words and actions. 

No doubt the most frequent victim of my peace thievery is myself.  I am prone to wallowing in worry.  The burden of an imaginative mind is that, while a wonderful gift most of the time, one can easily project negative outcomes and feel crushed by defeat before getting started.  Watching social media, reading or watching the news, even having conversations with others can trigger a spiral…I don a virtual “cheese burglar” sort of mask and start tucking away any hope of peace of mind as I dwell on the many things out of my control and yet still overwhelming and disheartening. 

I was such a worrier as a kid, my mom would OFTEN tell me “Don’t worry about anything, pray about everything”.  I would be an adult before I realized she had been quoting scripture to me.  That verse would become a precious part of my life, a mantra, rallying cry, reminder, challenge and anchor when threatened by peace stealers.  Today it is still mine and my husband’s life verse and one requiring frequent revisiting.

 Recognition of my peace thieving tendency has helped me work towards guarding my thoughts, actions and words.  I must ask myself, am I taking someone peace away? Am I letting someone, or something rob me of peace?  I have learned that peace, real peace, God’s peace, has little to do with circumstances.  True, unshakable peace is what God has brought to the world for our hearts.  In Christ He reconciles us to Him, redeems us and affords us mercy and grace. 

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and thanksgiving let your request be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Phil 4:6&7

This year may we keep our thoughts on Him, and our hearts be lifted and filled with an overwhelming peace, a peace that is beyond comprehension, a peace that will guard our hearts and minds, no matter the weight we carry, in Christ, Jesus.

“For unto 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, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6-7

This peace is for us all! Don’t let anyone, thing, or circumstance steal it away!

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to all on whom His favor rest.”

 

The Year of the Turtle December 10, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 11:50 am

This week we continue our advent celebration.  It is a wonderful time to stop in the midst of the season and truly focus on the reason for all the wonderful merriment of Christmas.  This week is JOY.

    These days Christmas looks far different from what I refer to as “the year of the turtle.”  At the time, our son was in grade school, him becoming a father one day was unimaginable.  Yet here we are…my first born is dad to three amazing little girls.  I love seeing him be a father.  As I sat to write this blog about JOY, I was thinking of that “year of the turtle”.  I was thinking about how he may now have a new understanding of that unusual Christmas gift.   I know he too has grappled with keeping his girls’ dreams buoyed up while balancing the realities of life. 

“The year of the turtle” took place the year our son asked Santa for a turtle.  Inspired by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle craze, he asked for a real live turtle.  It was one of the few things he specifically asked Santa for, so I set about trying to make his “dream come true”.  At first, it may sound like a simple, even inexpensive, gift request…but it was not. 

         In the summer and spring, box turtles could be easily found in the nearby woods, but mid-winter was NOT a good time to go turtle hunting.   I scoured every pet shop in town for a turtle.  Here’s a tidbit of information that may surprise you as it did me…it is illegal to sell turtles less than 4 in diameter due to the high instances of salmonella in juvenile species.   As a result, many pet shops did not sell turtles.

         It took three weeks, numerous phone calls and an hour-long drive before I found a shop that could sell me a box turtle.  That simple box turtle, which ordinarily I could have found in our back yard for free, cost me over twenty dollars and a tremendous amount of time and effort.  It was worth it all when our son came down the stairs Christmas morning and found his requested turtle in an aquarium under the tree.  He named him Michelangelo.

          I wanted to let our son know how difficult it had been to get him this gift.  I wanted him to know how much it cost in terms of time and money.  I wanted him to understand the cost meant this was no ordinary box turtle. 

        He would not have understood the cost back then.  Old enough to grasp certain matters of money, he was not old enough to understand the price of time and effort.  Just locating a live turtle in December was a small miracle.  This turtle cost much more than the price paid at the pet shop.  I knew he could not comprehend the cost, but I relished the joy in my son’s eyes when he saw the turtle under the tree.

       Now, as a father himself, he no doubt comprehends the true cost of that turtle under the tree.  Each year I think of “the year of the turtle” and am reminded of my own inability to truly grasp the cost of the greatest gift I have ever received, the grace of God.

           Through Jesus Christ we are given unearned favor and forgiveness for our sin.  It is God’s gift to all people.  It is a gift whose cost we cannot comprehend.  It is a gift that is the seed of joy in every believer’s heart.

This is the news of great joy, that we are saved by His grace and mercy and have the hope of eternal life and forgiveness of our sins through our savior Jesus Christ, a gift with a cost we cannot comprehend!

Luke 2:10  And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold I bring you good news of a great JOY which shall be for ALL the people…”

 

Peace Thievery December 8, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 10:33 am

Peaceful things:  Quiet mornings, a good book and a crackling fireplace, sleeping children, snowflakes floating through the air, calm gatherings, silent nights and the glow of Christmas lights.

Not so-peaceful things: Running late, contentious conversations, work deadlines/pressure, driveways waiting to be shoveled, horns honking impatiently, crowded stores and the non-stop Christmas carols blaring out of speakers.

I have known both…I have soaked in plenty of peaceful moments and struggled through non-peaceful seasons of life.  I have also been a peace stealer.  I obviously do not say this to brag, but in hope that my admission helps others who have a similar tendency.

How do I steal peace you may ask…I have a few “go to” methods.  The first of which impacts my poor beloved more than anyone else. 

For example (sadly this is just one of many):  When the kids were young, attending a Christmas Eve church service was part of our tradition. Our normally adequately large sanctuary would fill to standing room only for this special service.  Arriving early is my husband’s love language…he HATES to be late.  A late arrival at a Christmas Eve service would make sitting together with family and friends impossible and parking a nightmare.  And yet, for some reason (because I am a peace thief) I would mismanage my time causing us to be sliding into the parking lot, racing to the pew, disheveled children in tow, a flustered spouse and I still lacking a sense of urgency.  My thoughtlessness effortlessly whisked away any chance for my poor hubby to have a peaceful evening.

My ability to snatch peace from family or friends with my words is astonishing even to me.   Perhaps born out of my personal struggle with anxiety, but when someone shares their first steps toward a dream, or a risk they are considering, or a new idea, my mind instantly swarms with all manner of “what if” s and worst-case scenarios…far too often these thoughts ooze outward pressing my worries into their mindset.  I realize I am not always responsible for the peace, or lack of peace, others feel, but these days I am more mindful of the impact of my words and actions. 

No doubt the most frequent victim of my peace thievery is myself.  I am prone to wallowing in worry.  The burden of an imaginative mind is that, while a wonderful gift most of the time, one can easily project negative outcomes and feel crushed by defeat before getting started.  Watching social media, reading or watching the news, even having conversations with others can trigger a spiral…I don a virtual “cheese burglar” sort of mask and start tucking away any hope of peace of mind as I dwell on the many things out of my control and yet still overwhelming and disheartening. 

I was such a worrier as a kid, my mom would OFTEN tell me “Don’t worry about anything, pray about everything”.  I would be an adult before I realized she had been quoting scripture to me.  That verse would become a precious part of my life, a mantra, rallying cry, reminder, challenge and anchor when threatened by peace stealers.  Today it is still mine and my husband’s life verse and one requiring frequent revisiting.

 Recognition of my peace thieving tendency has helped me work towards guarding my thoughts, actions and words.  I must ask myself, am I taking someone peace away? Am I letting someone, or something rob me of peace?  I have learned that peace, real peace, God’s peace, has little to do with circumstances.  True, unshakable peace is what God has brought to the world for our hearts.  In Christ He reconciles us to Him, redeems us and affords us mercy and grace. 

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and thanksgiving let your request be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Phil 4:6&7

This year may we keep our thoughts on Him, and our hearts be lifted and filled with an overwhelming peace, a peace that is beyond comprehension, a peace that will guard our hearts and minds, no matter the weight we carry, in Christ, Jesus.

“For unto 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, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6-7

This peace is for us all! Don’t let anyone, thing, or circumstance steal it away!

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to all on whom His favor rest.”

 

World’s Worst Christmas Hymn? December 4, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 10:09 am
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 I once posted weekly, Tuesdays, hence the blog name Tuesdaywithteri.  Over the years my ramblings have lessened and posts are infrequent, but I treasure this time of sharing during the season of advent.  For me, Advent is a time to pump the brakes of life.  I love anticipation. I am a gleeful participant in all the things that bring us closer to Christmas day…baking, gifting, decorating, gathering, singing, serving…but my favorite thing will always be the quiet morning, still night, or mid-day pause when thoughts and hearts turn intentionally toward the reason for the celebration. In some homes, a candle will be lit for each of the advent themes.  This week let us consider HOPE.

I do not normally struggle with sleep.  Sleeping is my superpower.  I am usually quick to fall asleep and tend to sleep deeply. But lately my mind has been nosediving into all manner of unsettling worries and thoughts.   I tried ALL the things…. counting sheep, prayer (or as my sister calls it “talking to the Shepherd”), making mental lists, reading…nothing seemed to hasten dreamland’s arrival.  And to make matters worse, for some ODD reason I had a song on loop in my brain. Odder still…that song was a hymn I have had no reason to hear or sing in ages… “Come Thou Fount”?!  Seriously, not even a Christmas hymn…yet there I was, every night, hearing this tune on repeat:

Come, thou Fount of every blessing;
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above;
praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
mount of God’s unchanging love!

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I’m come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood.
 

O to grace how great a debtor
daily I’m constrained to be!
Let that grace now, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here’s my heart; O take and seal it;
seal it for thy courts above

As I attempted to banish this song from my mind and grasp sleep, I found my thoughts pinned on one thing: Ebenezer (what is Scrooge’s name doing in the song?)

After several sleepless nights, and a copious amount of coffee, I dug into the hymn’s origin…what is this “Ebenezer”?  The hymn’s author, Robert Robinson (1735-1790), penned these verses after becoming a believer at the age of 22.  Turns out, the Ebenezer Robinson referenced is found in 1Samuel 7:12-13.  It is here Samuel places the “stone of help” as a memorial following God’s provision for His people.  Hebrew: eben=stone ezer=help   Samuel wanted the people to remember, not just for a few years, but for generations to come, how God had come to their rescue.  It was not to commemorate a final victory. Their story was far from over.  Trials, tribulation and wandering would continue, they were indeed, “prone to wander”.   But Ebenezer was meant to remind a nation to keep the faith and remember their deliverer.

This song no longer fills my sleepless nights, but now I find myself humming it and dwelling on it intentionally.  My story is also far from over.  I know too deeply what “prone to wander” means.  God has shown His faithfulness in my life in countless ways, but most importantly in my salvation.  When my sin separated me from Him, God sent His own Son, that baby in a manger, the hope of salvation. He is my stone of help. This is the mount I am fixed upon.  

“Come Thou Fount” is now my new favorite Christmas Hymn. There is no sweeter time than Christmas to be reminded of how great a gift God gave us, the ultimate provision for us, and the Hope we can confidently hold as we remember ALL our God has done, is doing and will do!

 

Toddling Along July 14, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 7:51 am

“If you wander off Jesus will find you, take your hand and walk you back to where you’re supposed to be.” Wally Odum

This simple Facebook post by a friend took an unshakable hold in my brain.  My list of things to accomplish that morning cashed around me as my mind swarmed with images this phrase triggered.  I get it…I have been the hand holder as well as the one needing my hand held.

When my daughter was just a towheaded toddler we once watched as she wandered ahead of us at a mall.  Off on her own adventure, she seemed to have forgotten we were there.  We decided to see how far she would go before she realized she was not with us…so we stealthily followed her on her journey.  SHE NEVER STOPPED.  She never knew she was even a little bit lost.  There was no panic filled moment of “where are my parents?” or even “where am I”?  Eventually, we did not have all day, we took her by the hand and walked her back to where she was supposed to be. 

How often is this me? Toddling along in life, often unaware that I have wandered away from the One who loves me most.  Life is filled with so many distractions, so many choices, it is disturbingly easy to get caught up in the “going” and forget about God, the ordainer of our days, maker of our path, and planner of our steps.  His plans for me are good…but my nature, our nature, is to wander.  How marvelous a reminder that God waits to take hold of our hand.

We would never have said, “Oh well, she is not paying attention and staying close to us, let’s just let her go and we leave.”  If we’d had hours to spare, and had kept following her, I have no doubt eventually she would have noticed there was a problem.  I wondered what it would have taken.  Would she notice she was alone? Would she get tired?  Would she get hungry? Would she get hurt? 

When do we stop and seek God’s hand, what does it take?  To be honest, although my little girl is now in her thirties, I still feel as if I am following her as she journeys though life…my hand outstretched. 

Today is a good day to pause our wandering.  “Lord, here I am. Take my hand and lead me where I am supposed to be.”

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future, then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with your heart.” Jerimiah 29:11-13

 

Always Abigail… April 8, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 8:28 pm

           It still amazes me…no matter how many years pass, “Abigail”
still comes to mind every Easter. Honestly, today I felt a heavy
weight on my heart when I sat to create this post to share once again. Why do I
only think of Abigail at Easter? I mean, I know it is an Easter lesson…but I
find myself suddenly humbled and dismayed at how infrequently I truly allow
myself to consider the cost of my salvation, the price paid for my debt, and
the forgivenss I have access to through the sacrifice of God’s Son, Jesus
Christ, the importance of His resurection and the resulting Grace I live under.
          Am I like Peter, who immediately after the crucifiction allowed himself to deny
Him? How often have I kept silent when the opportunity to speak His name, share
His love and grace was made available?  “Lord, this Easter, and in the days, weeks and
months ahead help us to keep the reality of  YOUR love, forgiveness and grace
fresh and renewed in all things.”  How blessed to be reminded that our God considered
us worthy of His sacrifice, His love and His grace…not because of anything we
do, or don’t do, but because of His great love for us.

 

 

Abigail:

          I’ve lost track of how many years ago it was, yet each Spring I can’t
help but recall my introduction to Abigail.  I was a high school
science/Bible teacher for a small Christian school at the time. One of my
students was a football sized young man named Nick.  He worked for a local
farmer who had offered him a young lamb to take home.  Nick’s mom,
apparently destined for sainthood, not only allowed him to bring the lamb home,
but he got to keep it in his room!  Early that Spring Nick brought photos
to share.  To my amazement, there, wedged beside his bed and amid typical
teenage squalor, was a carefully built pen, complete with wood rails, chicken
wire and hay.  Abigail the lamb had found a perfect home.  Over the
next few weeks Nick would have numerous stories to tell of Abigail’s
antics.  I couldn’t wait to see her for myself, so I invited Nick to bring
her to school one morning.

          I ushered my entire class outside and we waited like giddy preschoolers
for Abigail’s arrival.  I am certain I will never be able to adequately
describe what I saw that day.  I will do my best.  We watched as Nick
emerged from his vehicle with Abigail cradled in his big burly arms.  We
stood transfixed by the sight of what can only be inadequately referred to as
precious”. 
Her pure, white coat seemed almost translucent, radiating light under the
bright blue, cloudless sky.   Her tiny nose was a perfect, pink
velvet triangle perched just above her little pink mouth.    As
I placed my hand on her sweet little head, she looked at me.  I found
myself staring into the depths of clear, brilliant blue eyes.  I realized
I had been holding my breath in awe.  We were expecting to see a cute
lamb, somewhat off white in color.  I had not considered that, unlike the
lambs at the local petting zoo, Abigail had been living in a clean, loving,
environment.  After everyone had made Abigail’s acquaintance, Nick left to
return her home and we settled back into Bible class.

          We soon realized the relevance of Abigail’s visit as we continued our
study of Passover.  The original Passover took place when Moses was
leading the Israelites out of Egypt.  God instructed them to mark their
door post with the blood of a male lamb.  This was to protect them from
the final plague which was the death of all first born in any home not so
protected. (Exodus 11&12) The yearly commemoration of this event required
the father to select the best, blemish free lamb and set it apart for the
Passover…four days prior to the celebration.  My students and I began to
consider something quite startling.  There was a good chance that the lamb
would have been brought into the house or yard during that time.  This
perfect little lamb, probably as precious and sweet as our Abigail, may have
clamored under their feet while they did chores, fed out of their hands and
shared a living area.  After four days, this lamb, which by now had become
even more precious to the family, was to be sacrificed.   Suddenly
one can imagine the cries of the children, the quite sob of their mother, the
sorrow in the eyes of the father who knows a blood sacrifice is required.
  For the first time, since meeting Abigail, we could truly envision
the “sacrificial lamb” of the Scriptures.

          The continued observance of Passover was a powerful object lesson for
generations of Israelites.  Every family member would be reminded not only
of God’s protection and provision when He freed them from slavery, but also of
the cost…the blood of their most precious lamb.  This Easter we consider
the final sacrifice.  Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, perfect and precious
beyond description, was sacrificed for our sin.  Many movies and videos
have stirred the heart of man as they depict the brutal crucifixion of our
Christ, yet none can compare to the vision of Abigail.  As we celebrate our
freedom from sin and death through the resurrection of our Lord, let’s never
forget the cost.  Praise God His love and grace make us worthy of such a
sacrifice!

1 Peter 1:18-19 

“Knowing that you were not redeemed with perishable things like
silver or gold…but with precious blood, as a lamb unblemished and spotless, the
blood of Christ.”

 

 

Joe’s Stone January 11, 2023

Filed under: devotionals — tlmiller82 @ 10:47 am

It was a cold and foggy morning here on the Chesapeake Bay.  We bundled up and headed to our favorite beach for walking, hoping the fog would dissipate in time.  It did not.  Instead, the fog gathered itself up and morphed into a light drizzle.  We continued on.  There is nothing quite like the unique calm of a beach with a horizon obscured by thick low clouds, barely audible lapping of water against a pebbly shore and a deep grey shroud of fog hiding anything beyond 10 ft of your path. 

At first we thought we were the only stalwart beachcombers this morning…then eerily, like a scene out of a scary movie, something dark and ominous moved just beyond us.  As we got closer, the image took the shape of a tall man carrying a bag of some sort.  This is how we met Joe, an elderly gentleman and fellow beachcomber.

He was moving slowly, eyes focused on the ground around him, obviously collecting something from the shoreline.  Curious, we stopped to ask what he was collecting. Clamming and shelling are common efforts of locals just after high tides and storms, but Joe was not common.  “I’m gathering stones and such for my wife, she uses them to make things”, he said as he held out his most recent find, an odd shaped cream colored stone.  His gloved hand shook a bit as he handed his treasure to me. The stone was rather normal looking, but I knew his wife no doubt saw creative potential in the things he gathered.  “Any day I am able, I come out here to look for things for her.”  My heart melted.  I tried to return the stone, but he insisted I keep it.  I placed it in my pocket, certain I would simply drop it once we were no longer within his sight, but as we walked away I kept thinking about Joe.

Since I was not wearing gloves on this cold day, my hands frequently returned to my pockets.  Each time my hand would encounter Joe’s stone.   Absent mindedly, I would run my thumb over the cool, smooth stone that fit perfectly in my palm.  I pictured Joe, braving the wicked weather of the day, to hunt for treasures for his wife.  His words, “every day I am able” kept running through my thoughts.  I have kept this stone in my pocket for these last few weeks.  I just can’t bring myself to toss it.  I can feel its weight each time I put my arms into the sleeves of my jacket…almost eager to put my hand into my pocket to confirm that it is still there.  It is comforting.  On morning walks with my husband, I let my thumb rest against it in my pocket and hear Joe’s words “every day I am able”.  When running errands I place my car keys in my jacket pocket and feel the stone still there…again I hear, “every day I am able”.  

At my local grocery store I overhear this transaction between a kind cashier and the man in line behind me.

Cashier: good morning, how are you today?

Customer: I don’t know just yet, I’ll see what the day brings

Cashier: Well, you’re standing and this side of the ground, so that’s something

I walked out to my car, reached into my pocket for my key…Joe’s stone is still there…”every day I am able.” 

Before leaving that parking lot I took a breath…Lord, thank you for every day I am able…for every day I am able to stand above ground. Help me not take for granted being able to learn, grow, fail and try again, to love and do for others and seek to honor You with every day I am able.

“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer.” Romans 12:10-12