Kathy graduated from Wisconsin Lutheran College with a B.A. in Media Design. She is currently a writing contributor with Christ Hold Fast, Higher Things, and Coffee by Gillespie, as well as a freelance graphic designer. She is the co-author of The Sinner/Saint Lenten Devotional from 1517 Publishing.
Christmas comes in the dead of winter. In a season when the earth is cold, dark, and bare, songs on the radio belt out a chorus which names this season, "the most wonderful time of the year." But, is it really the most wonderful time of the year?
He was a beggar on the streets. And, he was as good as dead if he didn't receive a blessing. The words, "you're cursed" haunted his mind. He was cursed and it was his own fault. He took what wasn't his to take; he stole from the dead and, in doing so, he became eerily acquainted with the dead.
It happened instantaneously. His beloved teacher had just washed his feet. Hours earlier he reclined at the table with his Lord and recalled the Passover. Now, his regret was beyond comprehension. Everyone and everything around him disappeared as the Lord turned and caught his eye.
Jesus' disciples locked the doors to their own prison. Fear, grief, and shame haunted the dark cold room in which they sat. Their beloved Lord, teacher, and friend had been crucified. Jesus had breathed His last. The One whose creative breath breathed into the lifeless clay bringing Adam to life had stopped breathing.
She had nowhere to hide. She was dragged into the temple and made to stand in the court as accusations were hurled against her. Sticks and stones may break bones, but their words may soon condemn her. It was only a matter of time. She had been caught in the act of sin and now awaited punishment.
Taste buds sprang to life as the sweetness of the fruit danced around in their mouths. Maybe the serpent was onto something. Of all the trees in the garden, why this one? What was so special about this tree that they must refrain from eating its fruit? Maybe the serpent was right.
No greater injustice exists than to declare the innocent guilty and the guilty innocent. For the one guilty of irreparable harm to walk off scot-free offends our conscience. But, for the innocent one to pay for the crimes of the guilty assaults the very notions of truth, morality, and justice we hold dear.
The black canvas of the night sky gave way to glittering lights in the heavens. David’s city slept nearby as shepherds watched their flocks in anticipation of the dawn. This same darkness that held the twinkling lights above them, held the sign of God’s promise to Abraham.
Creeping through the house was a cunning art. Taking a single step was a strategic game to avoid creaks in the wooden floorboards. The goal was to maneuver through the house unnoticed. Any sound or change in shadows elicited alarm. There was nowhere to hide, every inch of the haunted house left visitors open and vulnerable to eyes prowling around in the shadows.
I’m sure you know the story. An orphan girl lives a monotonous life filled with loneliness serving as a slave to her stepmother and stepsisters. One day in a stroke of luck, she is visited by her fairy godmother. Her humble clothing and cinder smudged face become hidden by an extravagant ball gown.
The more I heard the song, the more I heard the heart of the Gospel in the song. The music swept through the office like a refreshing breeze. It broke through a playlist which had become stale over time. Repetitively, the words flowed through the air, “let me love you.”
A significant election is quickly approaching. A candidate will be chosen to hold the highest office in our nation. As a result, media is saturated with candidates promoting themselves, interviewing with journalists, and debating opponents all insisting and entreating the voter; choose me.