The Myth of the Finish Line
I spent the holidays working ten-hour days, running as if starving junkyard dogs were snapping at my heels. In my frantic drive to cross a mythical finish line, I forgot the basic economic principle that everything comes with a price tag. It turns out that true productivity isn't about how late you stay up, but about trusting the One who grants sleep to those He loves.
Going Back Changed
I imagine the shepherds eventually had to leave the warmth of that stable and head back into the wind-driven cold to face the same smelly sheep they’d left behind. They returned to the exact same lives, but they went back as men forever altered by the sight of a King napping in a common cow trough. If you feel the letdown of the holiday ending, come read why the real miracle isn't found in the noise of the celebration, but in the quiet way God remakes us for the ordinary days ahead.
The Glory of the Night Shift
If you’ve ever worked the night shift, you know it’s a lonely business spent in the quiet corners the rest of the world has forgotten. It was into that same damp, frigid air that God chose to rip open the ceiling of the world and pour out His glory—not to a palace, but to a pasture full of men smelling of sheep and woodsmoke. If you feel like you’re laboring in the dark today, come read why light always breaks best exactly where polite folks wouldn't think to look.
Glory on a Grainy Screen
I stood in my parents' bedroom on Christmas Eve in 1968, watching a grainy moon slide across the screen of our Zenith television. While the world outside felt like it was unraveling with war and riots, the voice of an astronaut reading Scripture from space brought a sudden, holy hush to the room. That night taught me that even when history feels like a wreck, God is still on His throne. It is a reminder of where we need to look when our own world feels out of control.
The Manger for My Anger
There are no lights on my house this year, and truthfully, my patience often wears thinner than a cheap bath towel. Even during the season of peace, my old, selfish habits stick to me like cockleburs on a wool sock. I have realized that the manger wasn't built for people who have their lives perfectly gift-wrapped. It was built for the broken folks who need a fresh start before their morning coffee even cools.
The Twenty-Nine Cent Legacy
I remember when a twenty-nine-cent box of drugstore cherries was the height of Christmas luxury in a house where we counted every penny. I nearly fainted at the three-dollar price tag at Walmart yesterday, but it reminded me that the best things I ever received weren't actually the things at all. If you're fretting over a budget this season, come read why a grandfather’s change purse and a box of cheap chocolates are the only inheritances that actually stick to your ribs.
The High Cost of the “Big Slipper”
I stood in the slipper aisle debating the thermal properties of memory foam until my holiday joy completely evaporated. My tendency to overthink every gift purchase makes me feel less like a wise husband and more like George Costanza having a breakdown. But this mental spinning is a spiritual issue, too, mirroring the same distraction that kept Martha from sitting at the Master's feet. It is time to trade the exhaustion of the gift aisle for the peace of the only decision that truly matters.
The Gifts Money Can’t Buy
I remember the 1996 craze when parents were fighting in toy aisles and paying $1,500 for a thirty-dollar Tickle Me Elmo. We often convince ourselves that a miracle in a box can make up for a year of missed bedtimes, but the older I get, the clearer it becomes that what children treasure most can’t be scalped or traded. If you're feeling the pressure to buy the "perfect" gift this year, come read why a twelve-dollar plastic spy kit and a firm "no" to a Cadillac were the greatest inheritances my fathers ever gave me.
The Worst News Isn’t on TV
I have started watching the news like a child watches a scary movie, peeking through my fingers and dreading what comes next. Between the government shutdowns and the violence in the streets, it feels like the whole world is anxious and exhausted. But I’ve learned that the headlines don’t actually contain the worst news—or the best news—that affects our lives. Real hope is found when you realize that grace is the only gift that doesn't come with a hidden price tag.
Wrapping Paper and Mist
I remember sitting on the couch as a boy, staring at the Christmas tree and feeling like time had slowed to a crawl. Back then, the year 2025 felt like the year 3000—a distant, unthinkable future. Today, as I prepare to substitute for a teacher who was once a fourteen-year-old student in my own classroom, I realize that the circle has narrowed and the "mist" of life is moving faster than I ever imagined. If you’ve reached the season where you have fewer days ahead than behind, come read why the most important work we have left is learning how to wrap our chapters well.