How Silently the Wondrous Gift is Given

I was talking with a friend a few weeks ago about the kingdom of God. “If an alien would arrive on the planet and look around to decide who was the King here, it certainly wouldn’t look like it’s Jesus,” she commented. I’ve been thinking about this statement a lot this Advent season.

Perhaps I’ll (we’ll) never fully understand why God chooses to work the way He does. Why does He always seem to choose the quiet, hidden ways of working in the world?

“How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given,” we sing. And silent it was.

At Jesus’ first coming, He, the timeless God, broke into time to the moans of a woman in labor. Angels announced His arrival, but their message was heard by social outcasts who smelled ripe of animals. He, the rightful divine King of Israel, was welcomed by pagan wise men of other kingdoms and sought out to be murdered by his own.

He was the supposed-illegitimate son of a teenage peasant girl, who was newly married to a carpenter from the backwoods of a great empire. He was a child of a people who had been ruled and dominated by superpowers for centuries.

To anyone looking on, the baby boy Jesus in the manger was a nobody. But this simple Jewish boy was the Son of God, Israel’s Messiah, the Savior of the world, God veiled in human flesh.

At that first coming, He was hidden. But He was not invisible. He could be seen by those who were looking for him. He could be seen by those who were humble enough to receive him.

By Mary, willing to endure the shame and risk of an unmarried pregnancy, ready to be the servant of the Lord.

By Joseph, obedient to an angelic dream.

By the shepherds, who received the first news of Jesus’ birth and were His first missionaries.

By Simeon and Anna in the temple, who had waited long and faithfully for God’s promises to be fulfilled.

He still works this way—in faith as small as a mustard seed, in a treasure hidden in a field, in child-like trust. He chose—and chooses—disciples who are unworthy and ill-equipped and calls them to follow. He works now, quietly, often hidden…but not invisible.

Why does He choose this way? Is it to call us to deeper faith? Is it to not overwhelm us with His might? Is it because He knows our hearts must be won gently, with sacrifice, not with power and coercion? I don’t know.

But I do know that it calls me to humility, to remember that “He chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are” (1 Cor. 1:27-28).

It calls me to faith, to trust in His slow work, to look with eyes of faith to see where He’s working.

And it calls me to hope in that second coming, for the day when He will return and be seen by every eye. For the day when there will be no doubt who is King.

Everyday Disciple: Emily's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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I was so excited when Emily first emailed me to share about her experience working as a civil engineer in construction. It’s a world I’m definitely unfamiliar with, and I was delighted to hear her stories. I hope her enthusiasm about her work and the ways God is at work in it bring your heart as much joy as it has brought mine. 

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I wish you could see the beauty in construction. Yes, the same noisy, annoying, dirty, nuisance-on-your-way-to-work construction. I wish you could see the beauty in the act of creating something that has, up to that point, only been imagined by other human beings. Or of the circus act of moving parts and personalities working towards a common goal. Of the countless numbers of people who have touched a building along a processing line, operating trucks across the country, or eventually installing it in the field with their own hands. I wish you could see, behind the test of patience, the beautiful story of creation and growth and relationships behind each construction project.

At first, I didn’t think I had the personality for the construction industry. But God led me to this career, and in spite of my hesitation, since I took my job in construction project management, I have discovered what God already knew, that this was the perfect job for me. 

I love that each project I work on is completely unique and requires a team effort and accountability. My job requires constant problem solving, and I can see the physical results of the planning efforts of my team. To start with a blank piece of land and end with a brand-new structure that will be enjoyed by others is very fulfilling to me.

I have learned that good construction work (as with many other industries) is all about sustaining good relationships between all individuals involved in the process. In construction, there are many different parties with many different interests: architects, engineers, owners (clients), end users, subcontractors, inspectors, and the individual workers in the field. My unique job as a Construction Manager is to serve as a mediator and conduit of information between all these different groups. Knowing God, and therefore knowing how I should act as a Christian, helps me to approach each meeting without preconceived judgements or only my own agenda, and implores me to treat each person respectfully and fairly. I have many opportunities to model right relationships, just by showing up to work and doing my job.  

In tenuous and stressful situations (where time and money are on the line) there is always a temptation to make quick decisions or take the easy way out, cutting corners. This often has fatal consequences if done during the construction process (whether it is risking the safety of workers, or the ultimate performance of the structure). Christianity calls me to be truthful in all my dealings and strengthens me to honor God in these circumstances by acting with integrity.

When I read the first post in this series, I thought of how God uniquely placed me, with my particular industry skillset, in the church that I am currently attending. I’ve struggled to know where my gifts and passions fit into the Body. When I first joined the church about four years ago, I was not aware of the Building Committee’s Master Plan process.  When it was revealed to the congregation, I felt as if my heart would burst out of my chest at the thought of possibly being involved in the construction of this grand plan.  

Looking back, God was carving a path through specific experiences I had had during the first few years at my company to ultimately allow me to serve on the church’s "Building Committee." One by one, the pieces aligned, and I eventually was asked to join the Building Committee with just enough construction experience under my belt to be helpful. We are now in the construction phase of the new parking lot around our current church and despite the fact that this might sound boring to most people, it is such an honor to be part of this process. I have never felt more fulfilled in my work than knowing I can simply be used in this way as a member of the church body for the glory of God’s kingdom.

Our church’s motto is to “know Christ and make Him known,” and this can be done anywhere. I can do this while using my “ever day job” skills for His glory while serving my church through its building projects. And I can do this as I am a presence for God’s Body and represent the church in the construction field. You never know how God will use your passions for His glory.

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If you would like to be a part of this project, I would love to hear your story. Contact me for more information.

In a Land of Deep Darkness

I grew up in the “country," in a neighborhood dominated by farm fields. They stretched long over gently rolling hills, interrupted by silos that sliced through the horizon, straining for the sky. There were often cows in these fields. I could see them from my window as they grazed, their dappled white and black hide backlit by a green pasture.

At night, a thick quiet settled over us, a quiet only broken by the occasional car passing on the road by our house. No street lamps intruded the darkness. You could see the stars. On nights when the moon was small and the sky was clear, you could lay down in the driveway or in the dusky damp of the front yard and stare up at them. Tiny pin points of light, flung across the sky in dazzling splendor. They brought the comfort of smallness and a tight squeezing in my chest.

But it wasn’t always so magical. I remember this specifically on nights it was my job to drag the trashcan to the end of our gravel driveway. It didn’t always have wheels then. In those days, I’d have to drag it or, if it was particularly heavy, slip it onto a small handcart and wheel it down.

I would reach the point, about halfway down, when I stepped past the glow that radiated from the windows and stepped into darkness. I tried not to let my overly active imagination get the better of me. What could be lurking in those shadows? What animal might be stalking me? What bad guy might be sneaking up, about to clamp an iron hand over my screaming mouth? I was jumpy, bracing myself for some creature to jump out at me.

In a book series I read at the time, the main character would repeat a Bible verse to herself when she was afraid. I took her cue, and if you listened carefully, you would have heard my tiny voice repeating, “In what time I am afraid, I will put my trust in Thee.”

I’m not often scared of the dark these days, though my imagination can still get the better of me. These days, it’s the metaphorical darkness that disquiets my mind. The darkness of evil, the darkness of a world that still groans under brokenness of sin.

I read of war crimes and heinous violence inflicted by humans, made in God’s image, on other humans, made in God’s image, and my stomach turns. How can this be tolerated? I see natural disasters, sickness, sorrow, betrayal. I see them here, in my town, in my church community, in my home. And I ask, how long, Lord? How long until you bring the completion of justice, how long until your healing is complete?

The small child, still deep within me, trembles, wondering what will lurch next from the shadows, whispering to herself the truth.

And what a blessed truth we remember this Advent season—that of a small child who came to drive back the darkness, to defeat the evils that lurk in the shadows, to shatter that darkness with Light everlasting. Thanks be to God.

The people who walked in darkness
     have seen a great light;
Those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
     on them has light shone…
For to us a child is born,
     To us a son is given;
And the government shall be upon his shoulder,
     And his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
     Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.    (Isaiah 9:2, 6)

Everyday Disciple: Bekah's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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Bekah and I first met while working at a summer camp in Pennsylvania. We'd fallen out of touch in recent years, but I was excited when she emailed me to share some of her story. It's a story both of how she sees God working through her work - and of how God has used other "everyday disciples" to direct her to the place she is today. 

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The beginning of my freshman year at Shippensburg University was a challenging and unusual situation. I was a commuter, a student athlete, and an undeclared major.

As a commuting student, I felt like an outsider. (I once had someone tell me, “You are not a real college student anyway.”) I loved being a part of the cross country team, but my situation was different from that of my teammates. I had to wake up earlier to get to school for practice, and when teammates wanted to hang out after practices, I eventually had to go home. As I watched new students move in, I witnessed something I would never experience. It was very hard for me.

Early on, I met Melissa, who was an intern with the Coalition for Christian Outreach (CCO). We began meeting weekly, and she took time to listen, encourage, and mentor me throughout my first year. At one of our meetings, Melissa told me she could see me working with college students someday. I gave her a quizzical look and just brushed the statement off.

I made a painful decision to stop doing track in the spring season. Little did I know that this hard decision would lead me to discovering my passion to work with college students.

I eventually began volunteering with the Career Center. In the fall of my senior year, the Director, Victoria, said, “I could see you working in higher education with college students some day or even having a position like me one day.” Once again, I brushed the statement off. I planned to stay with the company I’d been working at since high school.

But as I began to think about what came after graduation, the conversations I’d had with Melissa and Victoria kept overwhelming my thoughts about what I really wanted to do. Through long course of discernment, prayer, and decision making, I ended up where I am now: at Geneva College, getting a Master of Arts in Higher Education Administration and working as the Graduate Assistant-Career Coach in the Career Development Center on campus.

Looking back, I am amazed how God used Melissa and Victoria to encourage me to work with college students and in career development. It is a testament to me that the Lord truly has a plan for the experiences of our lives and he brings people along to speak wisdom and encouragement to us as we pursue our passions and use our gifts and abilities.

I take the time to tell this story because I now get to influence and make a difference in the lives of students just as previous professors, staff, and mentors (like Melissa and Victoria) have made on me throughout my life. I meet with students, as they did with me, to help them better understand their callings and professional pursuits. I get to help students explore their purpose in life—discovering the passions God has given them, understanding how their past has influenced their present, focusing on the whole picture, remembering that God has a plan for their life.

I see my work in the Career Development Center as a way to help students know that whatever career they choose, the Lord can use them in it to be a light for Him. I want to show Christ’s love to each student so they know that they matter, their story matters, and their experiences matter.

I ask you to pray for our college students and the college communities across the nation and the world. Many of our students are facing major challenges and are trying to figure out the plans for their lives. I ask you to consider connecting with a college student or someone you know who works in the college setting.

Meaningful and supportive relationships can help these students see and reach the individual and unique potential the Lord has for their lives. We can encourage our young people to use the gifts and strengths the Lord has blessed them with in the careers and opportunities they will have for the rest of their lives.

I know—because I was once one of them.

Everyday Disciple: Autumn's Story

This post is part of an on-going Everyday Disciple series. We're celebrating here what it looks like to follow Christ faithfully in the day-to-day. I am thankful to share the stories of gracious friends and readers, and I have sought to preserve and honor their voice in the post below. I invite you to join me as we listen to their experience as an "everyday disciple."

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Autumn is one of my dearest friends. It all started our freshman year of college when I plopped down on her bed and started chatting away. (I may or may not have been accidentally sitting on her pillow, which has never ceased to be a source of debate.) She’s been a faithful, grace-filled, gospel-obsessed sounding board ever since, and she helps me remember to not take myself too seriously. I’m thankful to call her a friend and honored to share some of her story with you today.

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I became a wedding photographer by accident. When I graduated from school, I knew I wasn't quite ready for graduate school but had no clue what to do with my history degree. I jokingly listed out the activities for my dream job (with Diana, no less): hearing people's stories, drinking coffee, traveling for free, serving in new ways.

Without any effort on my part, the Lord gave me that exact job. One friend asked if I'd photograph her wedding, then another, and before I knew it, I was forming a legal business and crafting a website. It's been non-stop ever since.

I spend months helping couples plan the details and shoot the events of their wedding day. Throughout the entire process, I have opportunities to serve them, bring them joy, and count them (and their guests) as more important than myself.

Couples typically experience a roller coaster of stress, worry, excitement, anxiety, happiness, and giddiness—weekly. As a “wedding expert,” I can offer advice steeped in grace, hope, and perspective. I can gently bring a couple back to the importance of the covenant when the world becomes too distracting and celebrate what matters most with them.

I have an opportunity to spend more time with my couples than anyone else at their weddings, including their very best friends. This gives me continuous moments to serve, encourage, and build up my in-love clients on the day of their weddings—even when family difficulties cause stress, when my back hurts and I have five hours left, or the weather threatens to destroy everything.

Couples trust me with a day that will always rank as one of the more important days of their lives. My job never gets a re-do, and I feel the weight of the responsibility of doing my job fully and excellently because it's a one-time-thing. I believe I bring God glory by being prepared, focused, and diligent throughout my entire time in a couple’s service.

I wish people understood that my work is not frivolous or materialistic. Has the wedding world exploded in expense and extravagance? Sure. Are the fanciest, most amazing photos a requirement for a wedding? No. Is my job petty or easy? Absolutely not.

I see the gospel in every part of my work. When I listen to couple's stories, I hear of God's faithfulness. When I see the way a bride sneaks looks at her groom, I see his delight in giving good gifts. When I watch mother and fathers dance with the grooms and brides, I see God's parental joy and guidance. When I see best friends shed tears of joys and hear toasts of answered prayers, I see God's church walking in grace. When I see the moment a man and a woman say, "I do," to one another for a lifetime, I see God's commitment to his plans. When I stop to think of the love overflowing on a wedding day, I think of the future fullness of joy when Christ receives his bride and we celebrate at the greatest wedding feast.  

My work is rooted in my deep respect and thankfulness for the gift of marriage, which was given to us by a good and loving God to better understand the gospel. I believe my photos capture a moment in time that changes a family and the generations to come. I believe my photos bring people back to their covenant promises again and again.

Ultimately, my job is to be a covenant historian. I know wedding days can be a lot of beautiful dresses, gorgeous flowers, and hopefully delicious food, but at their core, wedding days are covenant days.

There is always this point during a wedding ceremony when I feel goose bumps cover my arms and my sense of hearing sharpens—it’s always right before the vows. I stand there, in the middle of the aisle, and I watch a covenant being made. One man, one woman, and God. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, in plenty, in lack, as long as they both shall live. 

My finger hits the shutter, and I look at my watch noting the exact time the covenant was made. It never fails to amaze me that my job is to document such a heavy and beautiful moment.