I sat and doodled an idea, divided my journal page into four squares then sketched a figure with subtle wings in each. I added the four words, four mindsets to grasp as Christmas Day gets closer: hope, peace, joy, love.
I decided not to create new artwork but to find photos of old paintings. I was reminded I’ve been painting female figures, sometimes angelic for quite some time.
Women in contemplation, often perceived as “sad”. It reminds me that I’m sometimes seen that way and I typically answer,
“No, I’m just thinking.”
Thinking more than speaking, thinking of so many inexpressible hopes, dreams and often, fears.
I remembered this morning that hope deferred breaks a heart. Hope decided not to put more hope in only leaves us looking to fill a void. But, a dream pursued, held onto like a jewel leads to a beautiful song.
Like faith, hope is a mystery, a beautiful and invisible thing that holds more value than anything we can know, achieve or experience.
“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1 NIV
When December came, I willed myself to move toward Christmas in a more hopeful way. I’d read somewhere to look for “enjoyment” not to pursue perfection in my home, my gatherings, my notice of life all around me.
I have had one particular Christmas that I tended to decide my uncertain feelings about Christmas because of.
This year, God put an expression in my heart and as the days of December unfolded, it became my solid truth, my olive branch of peace to receive and to offer up.
“It won’t always be this way.”
This is the truth, friends.
Meaning that Christmas as a six or seven year old that was scary and scarring is long past.
All of us lined up in a row, the question my mama asked, “Who do you want to be with, me or your daddy?” The tiny little brown station wagon loaded down and pointed in the direction of leaving never left, nor did any of us kids. It was not my mama’s finest moment, it wasn’t mine either. But, oh the moments and the Christmases since. They’ve been a mixture for sure of ugly and pretty. Still, hope has never left me, has always come ‘round again.
I don’t have to fight for Christmas to be good, I don’t have to prepare for sadness, despair or even illness simply because those things have happened at Christmases before.
Christmas days in hospitals or bedside with illness or in bed yourself may have happened and may again.
Christmas next year won’t be exactly as it was a few days ago. It may be sweeter, there may be hardship, the people who are present and the times we are together may require acceptance and change.
This is life. Life is a good gift.
I’m missing so many moments as far as having “moment” photos, the goal.
Moments like standing next to my worshipful daughter singing “Joy to the World” in candlelight. Like the room filled with people as my brother offered prayer. Like the faces of all the babies when the paper was ripped and spread all over the room. Like the expressions of those I love in conversations about life now and in the coming year and although the word wasn’t spoken…evidence of redemption.
Those were moments not fit for pointing a camera at, those were moments stored up in hearts.
Hearts that are reservoirs of hope.
Mine is full. I pray theirs is too.
And you. Living in light of it all.
I wasn’t sure how Christmas would be this year. Nor can I be sure of the next.
Of all the scribblings and sketches in my Bible that chart my hopes, prayers, dreams and instructions, there are a couple I prefer not to read, that cause a sort of wrestling.
Make me wish I’d used a pencil, not a pen.
One word, “mama”.
“Do not fear; only believe, and she will be well.” Luke 8:50 ESV
Jesus had just been interrupted on his way to heal an important official’s daughter. He stopped in the throng of curious people when he felt a touch, I think more a desperate, still gentle tug and he healed a woman who’d been ostracized because she couldn’t stop bleeding. He looked her in the eye and called her “daughter” and said carry on now, go and live freely and well.
A few sentences later, he raised Jairus’s daughter from the dead in front of a group of mourners, saying she was just sleeping.
“My doubt has fled; my faith is free.”Harriet McEwen Kimball, “Joy & Strength”
I’m curious about Harriet. How she came to this freedom and how she remained doubtless. Maybe it was an exercise in returning to the faith, of reminding herself in a comparative sort of fashion why she chose to believe.
Yesterday, I thought of prayers it seems I’ve been praying for quite a long time and I thought about waiting and about the wonder of prayer.
I could bullet list mentally the answers to some seemingly unrealistic and rapid responses and I could list the times I fall back to my knees and say “Here I am again, Lord and it’s the same thing.”
I can list the times I’ve been reminded by God’s spirit, give it to Him.
On Monday, I thanked God for the privilege of surrender, not being responsible for everything or maybe not much of anything at all.
I’ve written about this before, about the country preacher who came to visit when a long fought battle forced surrender.
The preacher didn’t lecture, didn’t condescend, didn’t direct me to a Bible, didn’t say he’d send the women’s ministry to see me.
He turned to me in my fragility and spoke softly,
“Just pray for mercy.”
The itinerant preacher from Poplar Springs Baptist Church saw me and responded.
And thereby started me on my tentative path towards believing, of refusing to doubt no matter the dilemma or delay.
When I wrote “mama” in my Bible, the lowercase letters resembling a middle school diary entry, I was a different woman than I am today.
If there was an assignment, I said yes. If there was a need, I volunteered to fill it.
If the church lights were on, I was seated in my pew or I was dutifully down the narrow hall, teaching or getting ready to sing.
I didn’t listen, only now cringe remembering, the Sunday morning my son said to me, “Mama, just sing with your voice.”
Oh, the ways my children endured me!
Because of my steady efforts, I was certain my mama would not die, like the daughter of Jairus, she’d rise up strong again.
But, she did not.
There were some things, I decided, my faith could not do.
I see “mama” on the page in Luke in my Bible as a gift now, a retrospective glance at the striver I was rescued from being.
I see “mama” and I still believe.
Because wellness, healing, a life without serious illness or chronic conditions is not completely up to me.
No amount of striving, performance or gut wrenching protective prayers or isolating will guarantee a life without sickness.
Circumstances will come, that’s a given.
Still, it is with certainty that I know belief is not circumstantial.
If it were, the woman with the flow of blood wouldn’t have had to wait so long or worse yet, she’d been overlooked or assumed too far gone.
Just pray for mercy.
Mercy will be given.
Perhaps not as expected and likely not without question of “if”.
And certainly not because of or despite your performance.
I sang “O Holy Night” from memory, listening to those around me.
I sometimes wonder even in a setting surrounded by believers, how the miracle of Jesus could be so, if I’ll ever truly understand the complexities of the Trinity and how in the world there could be such immeasurably undeserved grace that I’ve been given, been shown, keep receiving.
In contrast, I wonder things like why my children had to be grandparentless so young. Why bad things like fatal accidents happen around Christmas, why the threat of violence and fear feel so palpable in our day.
I understand. This is earth not heaven and I know God has and had a plan for my parents I can’t yet fully understand.
Still, contemplating life with question draws me closer to steadfast faith. The woman at the well stood next to Jesus, Jesus who knew all her secrets and sins and yet offered her himself for a new way to live.
She walked away wondering “How could it be?” and shared with all the townspeople who then decided for themselves…it must be so! I, too choose belief.
We don’t always understand. Often, we won’t ever. But, choosing to believe in the one who hears and responds to my prayers, often in big ways, more often small, is the way to believing even more.
““For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” John 3:16-17 ESV
Merry Christmas. May your questions always lead you back to believing what is humanly unbelievable.
Believe in Jesus, the baby, the boy, the man amongst men, women, and children. God’s Son, our Savior because of underserved crucifixion and a glorious resurrection.
Jesus, who is seated next to God, the Father and is seeing me, sitting on a quiet Christmas morning and typing words about Him, maybe saying…see, she’s growing. She’s believing more and more. She knows she’s fully known and loved.
Flipping through the pages of this worn book, I’ve been anticipating today. Before it was December 24th, my thoughts have been on this one verse.
There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7
There was no place for Jesus to be welcomed, no place that could have possibly made space for him, Mary and Joseph. So, they walked on until they found an obscure place that would be suitable. Although no one would take them in, Jesus was born and Mary sat and pondered the majesty of it all.
Nothing could stop God’s plan, no earthly inconvenience or obstacle.
I think of “no room in the inn” as a metaphor for the busyness of life, the inconvenience of accommodating Jesus. That may sound harsh, but I believe it can be true. As hard as we try, we fill our schedules and our spaces until we don’t have space for our Lord and Savior.
There was no room for them in the inn.
Yet, he came and he continues to come, born in us as we continue to believe into our being born again
Or maybe you decide to let him in brand new today. Ask for his nearness. Believe he is God’s son who died for you. Confess your sin, the truth that you’re not able on your own.
Let him in.
He giveth more grace, astounding unmerited favor.
On this Christmas Eve as day turns to dusk and then clear starry night, give God room. Let his peace live in you.
Merry Christmas all!
He giveth more grace. Grace to those who refused space to a young woman pregnant and weary, she and baby’s father.
Grace was given those thousands of years ago as Jesus came and they with all the others, the innkeepers, the shepherds, the scholars, the wives and children saw Him, Immanuel.
With them, with us.
Surely, many believed firsthand in this grace, this light of the world.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but yesterday on a couple of occasions, I felt God seeing me. I felt Him near. The veil between earth and heaven was translucently thin.
In my car, with a list of places to deliver art and calendars, in between being among hurried and intent on shopping people, a playlist emerged. Songs I hadn’t heard before both caused me to pray and to praise. A deep connectedness to God’s spirit within me, led to warm tears and others to a lifted open hand.
No wonder, I’ve been resting with the words, “Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask you to stay.”
My favorite people in the Bible are the vulnerable and uncertain ones. I’m drawn to Job. I’m strengthened by David. I adore Martha and can relate to Jonah. Thomas, the one who needed proof and wasn’t afraid to admit it. I love the ones who wondered.
“Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:29 NIV
Who believe and cling to times when their belief was solidified, made tangible evidence.
The Lord is near.
Believe. Accept the freedom of a sweeter commitment, the language of the heart, not rational.
I sketched a woman with a thoughtful gaze and a posture of certainty. Soon after, I added abstract shapes, soft colors and scattered words.
With ease and my normal messy pace, I added twelve watercolor sketches, deciding this is the 2022 calendar.
The calendar is 11×17 on high quality matte paper. The artwork is sized for later framing. It can be hung on a wall or positioned in an easel for your desk or counter.
You can purchase the calendar here. Use the promo code, 2022CALENDAR for a big discount on 5 or more!
“So now wrap your heart tightly around the hope that lives within us, knowing that God always keeps his promises!” Hebrews 10:23 TPT
More than one person has agreed with me, “I’m putting up my Christmas tree early this year.”
Like the leaves changing and popping out brilliant colors, Winter comes and with it, Christmas.
With Christmas, hope.
Witt hope, peace on earth, in our homes.
Hope anyway and always.
Draws us nearer to Jesus in the quiet place of hoping for better, intentionally making the holidays more about God’s gift to us than whether we’ll have gifts for others.
So, maybe decorate early. Sit in the silent evening. Consider your tree as you remember the rugged cross.
“Draw me nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To the cross where Thou hast died; Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer blessed Lord, To Thy precious, bleeding side.” Fannie Crosby
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 