Passing the Hat

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6:21

How could I be so attached to a hat? My yoke was one prong materialism and the other sentimentality. I treasured my turquoise blue running cap because my family had given it to me for Christmas. I loved it because it had “Under Armour” stamped on the front and so few of my earthly goods have such a prestigious label.

The second reason sounds superficial even to my own ear but yet I know it’s honest.

I was jogging along the Austin riverfront with my sweetie beside me. We chatted easily as married couples do when dialogue is unfettered by interruptions of children and cell phones. Midstride I heard the words of a passerby.

“I wish I’d worn a hat.”

The nudge in my heart was immediate, “Give her yours, Shannon.”

The idea was preposterous. The words passed my lips almost as a surprise even to me, “We have to turn around, Scott. I know it’s crazy but I’m giving a lady my hat.”

We jogged faster. The distance closed. What do you say to a complete stranger who didn’t even ask you for a hat?

“Excuse me, ma’am, I overheard you say you wished you’d worn a hat. I’d like you to have mine.”

No I didn’t change her life today. She was a well-dressed woman who had absolutely no need for my hat. The life altered in the exchange wasn’t hers; it was mine.

I muttered, “God bless you,” as we turned back the way we’d came. I loosened the grip on an earthly treasure and let God decide the fate of my hat. Indeed a life was blessed today but it wasn’t hers; it was mine.

I wonder about you. Is there a treasure you’re holding – time, routine or even money that would bless you more if unloosed? God passes the hat. The question is will we be willing to pass ours?

Hidden Treasure

She sat sideways in the leather chair while snowflakes danced down her legs over the armrest. Hurricane Christmas has littered her with presents big and small. One gift remained under the tree which bore the same name as her new Nike iD shoes - Hannah.

As the wrapping floated to the floor, another wrapped box appeared inside. Nested one inside the other, there was four boxes in all. The final package fit inside her hands. Somehow this made its' paper more difficult to tear.

Trembling hands opened the velvet case inside and out tumbled her James Avery charm bracelet, a treasure from her thirteenth birthday, misplaced in 2010.

The best gift was the one she'd had all along.

I wonder about us. Did we unwrap the very best gift this Christmas - the one we've had all along?

Hannah's bracelet had been close all these months - in the middle compartment of my car. We had opened that space hundreds of times but kept overlooking the treasure within.

I do that sometimes. I look at the outside things like circumstances, annoyances and inconvenience and overlook the treasure within.

The hidden joy is pressing closer to Christ in the midst of my difficulty. It's the gift I've had all along. Sometimes I just forget to take it out of the package.

Waiting on Jesus

At that time in Jerusalem there was a man Simeon. He was waiting for the Messiah.

Luke 2:25

Oh Lord how many years will you tarry? My longing heart is aged beyond my body. My shoulders drag as the decades melt one into the next.

I want to see you, Lord.

You have shown yourself faithful to my people. You promised our father, Abraham. You delivered our leader, Moses. You favored our king, David. But will you be faithful to me?

I want to see you, Lord.

As if snatching the words from my lips, You appear. You come into the temple not on the back of a stallion but in the arms of a peasant girl.

I see you, Lord.

And I know. You are Jehovah El Roi, the God who Sees. You. See. Me.

Can This Be?

I am absolutely thrilled to feature the work of my dear friend Patti Hazlett today. Patti is the kind of person who brings energy with her when she graces a room. Hope and vitality echo in her heart and her writing. I know you will love this post as much as I do and want to visit her blog many times to come.


by Patti Hazlett

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus

because he will save his people from their sins.

Matthew 1:21.

Oh God, can this really be true?

They have been gone for so long. Bethlehem is a lengthy journey and Mary was nearly ready to give birth. My heart strains to know if they are well. Even more, it yearns to know if this could really be?

Everything rational in me says it cannot be true. Yet, everything in the Scriptures points to it being real. My son. Joseph. It is certain he is of royal lineage, a direct descendant of King David himself. His father, Jacob, and I have raised him to honor God and live his life with integrity. He has grown into a God-honoring, humble man.

When he came to us, telling us of Mary’s pregnancy, we were stunned. Out of love and respect for Mary and her family, Joseph decided to quietly walk away from their engagement. Of course, we supported his decision. But then, he spoke of a dream. A dream in which he was visited by an angel of the Lord. The angel, he said, told him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife. That the baby should be named Jesus, because he will save the world! Dare we believe this could be the time? What if it is!?

The Scriptures have been part of our lives for generations. We know what they predict. The prophet Isaiah foretold of a coming King. One who would be born of a virgin. Born to reign from David’s throne. Born to save the world. It does seem to fit. Oh, do I dare believe it?

Lord, please calm my anxious heart!

Peace. Yes, peace. That’s what I feel now. As if what I have prayed for really is true! My heart is calm and I have a sense that yes, the baby Mary is about to give birth to truly is the Savior we have waited for for so very long!

With everything inside me, Lord, now I do believe. You have shown me that this really is true. Oh, Father, we are unworthy and yet humbled by your grace and mercy to allow us to watch over the Savior of the world.

My son. The earthly father of the King of Kings. Our grandson. He will be the Grand Son.

Praise be to God!
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Patti Hazlett is a writer whose blog devotionals have struck a chord with her readers. Her ability to look at life through what she calls her “Jesus filter” has taught many life lessons and practical Biblical application. A later-in-life Christian, Hazlett struggled for years to connect the dots between her life and a life as someone who was saved. Her journey took a radical turn after a cancer scare and a heartfelt, honest cry out to God to use her for more than the life she was living. Today, she approaches every day with the prayer to maximize each moment for His glory.


You can connect with Patti on Twitter, Facebook and her blog. 

Barren No More

I have the incredible privilege of introducing you to one of my favorite Christian authors. Tamera Alexander will steal your heart away in the first page with her inventive and engaging writing style. Her thievery as an author is due to her heart long ago being stolen by God. After you read her post, you will definitely want to order her latest book, A Lasting Impression. Please help me welcome Tamera!

by Tamera Alexander


About a month ago, Shannon asked if I’d be interested in writing about how a certain Biblical character speaks into my own personal Christmas story this year. She gave me a brief list of names and my eye went to one.

Elizabeth.

The account about her in Luke chapter one is brief, but revealing. She was older in life, barren, unable to conceive, and bore the shame of that unwanted distinction for years and years. Yet she enjoyed the honor of giving birth to the forerunner of our Savior at so untimely a place in her life. She was called righteous, along with her husband Zachariah, and was one of the first women to be noted as being "filled with the Holy Spirit."

She was careful to obey all of the Lord’s commandments and regulations. So therefore, she was familiar with them. After all, in order to keep a law you first have to know and understand it. I wonder if she was familiar with the scroll of Isaiah? And if she ever lingered over this verse and prayed even more earnestly for her son, John, as he grew. “The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”

When I read that verse with the heart of a mother for her son, the words wilderness and desert stand out to me. And not in a good way. Because what mother wants her son to be in a wilderness? Or in a desert? Having been barren for the majority of her life, Elizabeth knew what being alone felt like. She would never have wished that for her child. Yet she was faithful to the task God called her to fulfill. To be mother to the one who would prepare the way for Immanuel––God with us.

                      

God also used Elizabeth in a mighty way to confirm His plans in Mary's life. "You are blessed," Elizabeth said to Mary, "because you believed that the Lord would do what he said." She spoke affirmation and encouragement in the face of a nearly impossible road ahead for Mary, and helped her to keep believing in God's sovereign hand. Which then Mary responds with the ever popular "Magnificat: Mary's song of praise."

In the hustle and bustle of Christmas this year, I’m holding the memory of Elizabeth close, and am reminded that God will send people into our lives who are hungry for Him, who need a word of encouragement to follow Him, or maybe need a verbal hug to keep walking through the wilderness or desert that He's intentionally leading them through. Who knows…perhaps it was Elizabeth's timely word of encouragement that led Mary to the place where she could sing her song of praise.

Hear what Elizabeth’s life and legacy says to you and me: God is trustworthy, even in the barren places. His timing is impeccable. And He always keeps His promises. Always.

Blessings this Christmas and in the coming New Year,

Tamera

__________________________

Tamera Alexander is the best-selling author of Rekindled, Revealed and Remembered, the critically acclaimed Fountain Creek Chronicles historical series with Bethany House Publishers, along withFrom a Distance, Beyond This Moment, and Within My Heart (Timber Ridge Reflections series). Her historical romances—including The Inheritance with Thomas Nelson—penned in her style with deeply drawn characters, thought-provoking plots, and poignant prose have earned her devoted readers—and multiple industry awards.

After living in Colorado for seventeen years, Tamera has returned to her Southern roots. She and her husband now make their home in Nashville with Tamera's father, Doug. They enjoy life there with Joe and Tamera's two adult children, and Jack, a precious—and precocious—silky terrier.

Connect with Tamera online at her website, blog, on Facebook and on Twitter.

You Better Watch Out...

Blessed are those who listen to me, 

watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway.

Proverbs 8:34

Her eyes dance when she says his name. Though they've been married for decades, my friend Kim recently revealed to me that her sweetheart has never come home from work to find her asleep. This might not sound like an extraordinary feat unless you know her husband's work keeps him out until midnight or later on a routine basis. 


She watches for him.


On our cable there is an entire channel dedicated to waiting for Santa. Jovial games, heart-stirring movies and fun music share the screen with a large countdown to Christmas clock. On Christmas Eve a radar will appear with which kids can track Santa's journey around the world.


Children watch for Santa.


What will my heart watch for this Christmas?


Will my heart run to the temporary fulfillment of a perfectly baked cookie, a super bargain or a front row parking space? Will my heart linger and look for opportunities to whisper my love for my man and snuggle my daughters?


This year I want to live face pressed against the glass in breathless excitement to watch for the One who fills the stocking of my heart. I pray that He would fill more of my heart so that one day my husband and children could say they knew my heart waited for them. Come Lord Jesus. Come.

My Hope

Today I have the joy of bringing you another exceptional guest post. This one is written from the perspective of the innkeeper's wife and it touches my heart in a place that is real and raw. I know you will love it as much as I do and will want to read so much more of her heart here.


by Heatherly Sylvia

I hear them whispering.

I don't dare join them- in case they are right- but it is hard not to hear their gossip, their questions, their accusations.

"...only pledged, not married..."

"...angels spoke.... that's likely"

"...should be ashamed..."

"...surprised he stayed..."

When she left town to visit relatives – suddenly and without a word – we all wondered, but it's not unusual to visit one's cousins. Then the whispers traveled back towards town, "Elizabeth is with child." 

We were shocked beyond speech – it was rumored Zechariah was too, if the gossips could be believed.

It seemed unlikely that the story was true. Whispers of Abraham and his Sarah echoed, truth entwined with the obvious fabrication of wives and mothers with nothing better to do than to speak of others'

concerns as if they were a children's tale. And then...

It became apparent rather quickly that Elizabeth's rumored blessing was not going to be the biggest news on market day anymore...

As we have traveled these dusty roads toward David's city, ruled by Caesar and the census call, I've struggled – wanting ask her, wanting to amble beside her, as we used to in our childhood, at our mothers' sides at the market, in the fields; wishing I could share my news without the fear of the gossips that travel the same path, the same pace:

"Mary, I believe you."

"Mary, I'm scared for you."

"Mary, does Joseph really believe you?"

"Mary, I am pregnant, too. I am scared. I feel ill. The way is so long, the travel bothersome, the smells overwhelming, the food unpalatable...

"Mary, how do you look so peaceful?"

I am afraid to ask. Although their contract has been signed and Joseph calls her wife, the gossips continue. They whisper of angel's words and YHWH's blessing.

Why isn't she terrified?

What does she know that we do not?

Where does her hope lie?

Where can I get even a piece of the peace she has?

As she rubs her large belly, when no one is looking, Joseph lays his hand on hers. They share a secret smile and I feel the intruder as a moment passes between them. There is a spark I've never felt, a joy I've never known.

Where does their hope lie?

When news comes days later, shared over the rattle of carts and the braying of donkeys, I learn that her Hope was laid in a feeding trough.

I ignore my fear, and among the shepherds and animals I gain the strength to ask her.

Her tired smile is serene, her eyes sparkle with joy,

"My hope is in YHWH. My Hope is YHWH."

_______________________________

Heatherly Lane Sylvia is a mom, wife, homeschooler, speaker, aspiring writer, and apprentice grace-giver. Her greatest desire is to live a life following after God with abandon, and she hopes to be a blessing to as many people as she can while she figures out exactly how to do that. Het is passionate, loud, addicted to books, and loves her friends, old and new. She adores the blogosphere and would love to “meet” you there. She’s also pretty sure that blog comments and tweets are her love language. Check out her blog A Pinkdaisy Life or follow her on Twitter @Pinkdaisyjane