Today I present the ending of this year’s story. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Merry Christmas! (You can find the rest of the story here at this link.)

  I waited in my car at the airport cell lot, Christmas music playing merrily in the background. Matt’s plane was due to arrive any minute and then, together, we’d drive the remainder of the way to Grandpa and Grandma’s house in Frosty Falls. I was only there for about ten minutes when my brother texted that his plane had arrived.
     Soon, I was parked in front of the Arrivals door of the small airport, anxiously looking for Matt, who I had not seen since our time together with Mom. I got out of the car as soon as I saw his tall, lanky frame walk through the door.
     “Oh, I am so glad you came,” I said as I hugged him.
     “Me, too!” He said with a smile.
     We were soon on the road and spent the next two hours catching up on life. He told me about his new girlfriend who sounded perfect for him. Seattle seemed to suit him well and I rather guessed he’d stay there permanently.
     The two hours passed quickly and soon we were pulling alongside the little house on Fir Street. The flowers from summer had all faded away and now the white fence held a number of wreaths all along its length, their twinkling white lights lighting up the dreary day.
     Grandma must’ve been watching for us out the window because as soon as I put the car in park, she was out the door and opening the gate, running towards us with open arms. Grandpa wasn’t far behind.
     “Oh my goodness!” Grandma cried, “this can’t be Matthew!”
     They had never met my brother, as he had been born in Florida, and they were both so thrilled. After giving us both warm hugs, they helped us take our luggage into the house.
     “I am so sorry, Matt, but I only have one guest room. I hope you don’t mind that I set up a little cot for you in Grandpa’s study,” she told him to follow her, and I tagged along. She went back the hallway and stopped at the tiny room that held a small desk and an easy chair with a small hassock in front of it. Along one wall, in front of a bookcase, stood a comfortable looking cot.
     “Oh, this will work just fine,” said my brother agreeably. I knew his feet would stick off the end of that cot and I was proud of my little brother for his good attitude.
     As my brother got settled, I went to the guest room that had served as my room last summer. It felt so perfect being there and I settled in with a contented sigh.

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     On the Sunday before Christmas we went to church with Grandpa and Grandma and then we went to Uncle Randy’s for the family Christmas. It was a wonderful day with family. Matt loved meeting all of his aunts, uncles, and cousins and especially hit it off with his cousin, Luke, who was a few years older than him and also an engineer.
     That evening, Matt and I talked with Grandpa and Grandma about how much we had missed growing up. There was real sadness in this realization.
     Grandpa, also feeling regretful at his part in the broken relationship, mourned the past, “your mom didn’t want anything to do with your daddy’s family and so we stopped trying. But I can see now that we should have tried harder,” he turned to Grandma at this last phrase with a tear in his eye but then he reminded us all to be thankful, “Well, we are all here together now and that’s what matters! I hope we can spend many happy Christmases together in the future.”
     We all agreed and headed to bed.
     Christmas Eve dawned bright and sunny. Grandpa said he was going to take us to see Frosty Falls, which was in its winter glory. Grandma was going to stay home and cook, as she had in mind to make my brother and me a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner. Some of the family would stop by on Christmas Day but tonight it would just be the four of us.
     Frosty Falls did not disappoint. It was amazing in all of its frozen splendor, as the sun turned the icicles into sparkly gems. Grandpa gave us some of its history and shared a memory or two from his own childhood about the falls. And then he started talking about his boys.
     “We’d come here every year as a family to look at the falls and then go for hot cocoa to Glenda’s Diner in town,” he said softy as he remembered and then he looked up with a twinkle in his eye, “Why don’t we go to Glenda’s for hot cocoa now? I haven’t done that for years!”
     Soon we found ourselves seated in a little old-fashioned booth of the homey diner. Glenda’s daughter, a plump and smiling middle-aged woman, greeted us. Soon there were mugs of steaming hot cocoa and pieces of homemade pie on the Formica tabletop in front of us.
     As we sipped on the hot chocolate and enjoyed the pie, Grandpa recalled some of the antics of my dad and his brothers in their growing up years.
     My brother and I laughed a lot as we listened. Suddenly, my Grandpa grew quiet.
     “I haven’t seen your dad since we went to visit him last summer, Tara,” he said seriously, “I thought for sure he’d come around at some point, but we are still waiting and we are still praying.”
     “Me, too, Grandpa. Me, too,” I said sadly.
     Matt, who could hardly even remember Dad, just quietly listened to us. Most of his life had been lived without a dad and he was absolutely loving this time with Grandpa. I suspected that Grandpa was filling a need in Matt’s heart that he hadn’t even realized he had.
     “Well, let’s go see how your grandma is making out,” said Grandpa as he got up to pay the bill.
     As it turns out, Grandma was having a bit of trouble, “I cannot get this oven to turn on, all of a sudden. It was working perfectly fine this morning,” she bemoaned. The warm delicious-looking pies sitting on the counter confirmed this truth. A big beef roast sat in its roasting pan on top of the stove, prepared for its turn in the oven.
     For the next forty-five minutes, Grandpa and Matt worked together to fix the oven. As I watched the two of them, I could see how great it was for Matt to be here. I was so glad he had agreed to come.
     They were successful and around 6:45pm, just a little later than the original plan, we sat down to eat a feast of roast beef, mashed potatoes, baked corn, green bean casserole, and stuffing. We filled our plates and enjoyed a wonderful time of fellowship together, laughing and talking like we had known each other our whole lives.
     We were just finishing up dinner when we heard a small sound coming from the front of the house.
     “Was that the door?” My grandpa asked. We all grew quiet and waited.
     Soon we heard it again. It sounded like a soft knock at the door. Grandpa got out of his chair and went to get the door.
     He came back to the kitchen and who should be following him but Dad!
     “Look what the cat dragged in!” Grandpa joked awkwardly and happily.
     Dad gave a hesitant smile and stood uncomfortably by the kitchen entrance.
     “Raymond!” my grandma cried, “come in, come in! Let me fix you a plate of food!” She bustled around getting all of dad’s favorites and putting them on a plate. Meanwhile, Grandpa grabbed an extra chair and set it right between my brother and me.
     My brother gave me a rather distressed look as he slid his chair over to make room.
     “Hi, Dad,” I said evenly, trying to be friendly despite my uneasiness.
     “Hi kids,” said my dad nervously.
     I’d like to say that was the best Christmas Eve ever. Instead, it was actually kind of strange and awkward.
     But it was the first step that my dad took to heal his relationship with his family. And that was enough.

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     After spending a couple of awkward hours with us that Christmas Eve, Dad went back to his cabin. But we did see him a few more times over the course of our week and it grew less awkward to be together. And, while he was still a bit antagonistic towards any mention of God, it did seem as if his heart was softening just a bit.
     A week later, my brother flew back to Seattle and I drove back to Florida. But, this time, I was going back to pack up my things. My grandparents had invited me to live with them and I had decided to accept their offer. I had nothing keeping me in Florida and I longed to spend time with my grandparents and the rest of the family I was just getting to know.
     And so it was with a merry heart that I drove back to Florida, said good-bye to my friends, and packed up that little cabin by the lake. It held many precious memories of Mom and my growing up years but it was time for me to move on.
     And so just three weeks later, I found myself pulling up alongside that little house with the white fence for the third time that had become home to me. I didn’t know if I’d ever really get to know my dad or if he’d ever come to know the Lord. These were still big question marks. But what I did know was that I was unconditionally loved by my grandparents and, for now, that was enough. God had given me a family when I needed it most.

Today I present Part 4 of this year’s Christmas story. I hope it provides a pleasant break from the busyness of the holiday season. The final part will be posted next Friday. You can find the entire story at this page, along with all of the other Growing4Life Christmas stories.

     “Well, are you ready to go, Tara Tomato?” My grandfather stood by the door with keys in hand. The last few days had been a whirlwind of activity, as picnics and get-togethers were held in my honor. I had not only met aunts and uncles and cousins, but I had also met second-cousins, great-aunts and great-uncles, neighbors, church family and even my great-grandmother, my grandfather’s mother.
     Getting to meet Grandma Matilda was a wonderful surprise. Energetic and vibrant at the age of 93, she had asked if I would come and help her with “a little project” one afternoon. She had a big box of old photos and she wanted to put some of them in an album for my grandfather’s upcoming birthday. We spent the afternoon getting to know each other over hot tea and photos. I found out an awful lot about my dad’s side of the family that day. I think that was exactly what my great-grandmother had in mind.
     But woven throughout the week was the knowledge that, at some point, I needed to face my dad. Grandpa had informed me yesterday that he thought today would be the best day as any and so I had spent the night sleeping little as I tried to work up my courage. There really are no words to describe what I was feeling.
     Mom had especially asked if I would take my dad her Bible. Even though she had only started reading it a few months before she left this earth, she had marked and underlined and made notes in many different sections, particularly the books of Psalms, John, and Philippians. She had also written Dad a long letter, which was inside a sealed envelope and tucked inside its cover.
     Interestingly enough, she told me that she had never stopped loving my dad and that was why she had never remarried. I was rather shocked to hear this, as I had always thought she had married my dad out of convenience. I found out a lot of things I never knew those last few weeks of mom’s life. She shared with me that her greatest hope was that my dad would come around again to give their life together a second chance. But he never did. She revealed that this was her life’s greatest sorrow. Giving my dad that Bible with her personal letter was Mom’s final message to the only man she had ever loved.
     My thoughts returned to the present and my heart started beating just a bit faster.
     “Okay, Grandpa, I’ll be right there,” I got up from the table where I had been eating breakfast and walked back to my room.
     “Are you sure you don’t want to ride along, Betty? He is your son, too,” I heard Grandpa say.
     My grandma mumbled something in return that I couldn’t hear, but she didn’t go with us so I guess she decided it was best for just Grandpa and me to go.
     Soon we were on the road and heading north out of town. As we traveled, the houses grew further apart and, on either side of the road, tall trees lifted their branches to the sky. We made a series of turns, until we found ourselves on a dirt road going up through a mountain. The ground was covered in bright green ferns, with innumerable pine trees providing the thick shade that was necessary for them to grow. We crossed over a picturesque stream and soon came to a dirt driveway. The mailbox beside it had the number 247 on it.
     “I think this is it,” said Grandpa as he pulled into the driveway.
     He stopped the car and looked at me tenderly, “Shall we take just a moment to pray about this together?”
     I was surprised but grateful he had thought to pray, “Yes, please,” I whispered.
     Grandpa asked the Lord to be with us and to soften dad’s heart. He asked that Dad would be open to the Gospel and that we could restore our relationship with him. And then he prayed for me specifically, that I wouldn’t be too hurt if things didn’t go as I hoped. My throat caught a bit when he said that. I knew that I would be devastated if my dad rejected me.
     “Okay, let’s go,” he said and we headed up the driveway. We traveled for a few minutes through thick woods and then came to a little clearing where a little cabin stood. We could hear dogs furiously barking to alert their master of our arrival.
     We both got out of the car together. In my hand, I held a small bag that contained Mom’s Bible and some of dad’s favorite chocolate chip cookies, that Grandma had made especially for him.
     Grandpa knocked on the door and it was opened by a man with a bushy beard and longish hair who looked slightly familiar. Two well-trained German Shepherds stood quietly at his side.
     “Oh, hey, dad. So you were able to find this place?“ the man said with a wry smile and then he stopped and stared at me.
     I tried to say something, but the words got stuck in my throat.
     “Tara? Is that you all grown up?” My dad asked in disbelief.
     “Yes, this is your daughter, Ray,” my Grandpa said rather firmly.
     My dad’s eyes welled up with tears and he grabbed my hand warmly but then he backed away and his face took on a hard look.
     It would be hard to describe the next few minutes, which were awkward and difficult, to say the least. Dad didn’t really ask me much about myself and he shared very little about himself with me. I tried to explain about mom and give him her last massage. When I handed him the Bible, I did catch a small glimpse of…something. I know he felt something when I gave him her Bible but the tenderness in his eyes was soon replaced with that hard look again.
     I made efforts to talk about his life and about my life and about the Lord but he seemed totally disinterested and, perhaps, even slightly antagonistic when the topic of the Lord came up. I looked at Grandpa, who gave me a sad smile, as if to acknowledge the overwhelming disappointment I was feeling.
     After about a half hour, my dad grew antsy and said, “Okay, well, I need to run to town for some supplies today, so…”
     Grandpa stood at Dad’s not-so-subtle end to our time together and we were soon back in the car.
     “Well, that was awkward,” I sighed. I just felt like weeping.
     “I was afraid it would go like that,” said my Grandpa and then he added, “Ray has built a thick wall around his heart and he doesn’t know how to even begin tearing it down. If only he would turn to God. He’s the only one who can help him at this point.”
     I saw tears in Grandpa’s eyes as he spoke those wise words and knew that he was hurting for his son as much as I was hurting for my dad. I am thankful that, in that moment, I was able to recognize that my dad wasn’t rejecting me personally but, rather, that he was fighting his own battles that had nothing to do with me. It still hurt terribly but it somehow helped a bit to recognize this. I believe this realization was God’s answer to Grandpa’s prayer for me earlier in the car.
     We made our way back to town in silence and when we got home, I went to my room. I could hear Grandpa and Grandma talking quietly beyond my bedroom door. I lay there until I fell asleep.

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     “Oh, we have just loved having you here! Please do come back and visit! And bring that brother of yours with you!” Grandpa and Grandma hugged me and fussed over me as I prepared to leave. Grandma had baked me chocolate chip cookies, an apple pie, strawberry cream scones, and cinnamon coffee cake to take back home, all which were loaded into a box in the backseat. She had also sent a cooler filled with single dish meals for me to put in my freezer. They were all filled with cheese and cream and they looked absolutely delicious.
     “Grandma, are you trying to make me fat?” I joked.
     She gave me a wink and said conspiratorially, “I think you could do with a little more meat on those bones.”
     We all laughed as I got in the car and rolled down the window.
     “Let’s keep praying for your dad, sweetheart. It says in the Good Book that with God nothing is impossible*. He can break down that wall your daddy has built around his heart,” Grandpa reminded me. He had been encouraging me to pray for Dad since we left his house last week and I had committed to doing so.
     And then Grandpa leaned over by car and added earnestly, “We are serious and not just saying it, Tara, please do come back. Now that we have you in our lives again, we don’t want to lose you,”
     “I will be back. I promise.”
     “When?” My grandma demanded with a smile.
     “Christmas,” I said without thinking, “I’ll be back at Christmas.”
     They loved that idea and so with a promise to return in a few months, I started the drive back to my lonely life.

*Luke 1:37

    Today I present Part 3 of this year’s Christmas Story. I did want to mention here that I fully realize that I can never truly present all the feelings and emotions that come as a result of the events in this story. Telling anyone’s story, whether it be a true story or a fictional story, is always so very limited in its capability to communicate the depth of feelings that surround any event. The dynamics of life can just never be wrapped up in a five part story. Writing is made even more challenging for me as I have not experienced what my main character is going through. Instead, I am drawing from the many conversations I’ve had with people who have gone through these things and also from the extensive reading that I have done. But I do hope that this particular story reminds its readers of the hope and joy that can only be found in Jesus. I truly hope you are enjoying it. If you missed the first two parts, you can find them here. Thanks for reading! Here is part 3–

      I sat and stared at the little cape cod house to my left. The faded blue shutters and old white fence gave it a comfortable appearance. The flowers lifting their colorful faces to the sun all along the fence line completed the picture.
     I opened my car door. It was hard to believe it had already been five months since I had said goodbye to mom. My brother had come from Seattle the last few weeks of her life and then had stayed for a bit to help me sort through her things. We had found some interesting letters and photos that had given us more insight into mom’s life and even found a happy photo of me with my paternal grandparents that had been taken before we moved away.
     It was now summer and I had finally taken some time off from work to take that trip north to visit my grandparents. This seemed like a good first step in fulfilling my mom’s dying wish.
     As I got out of my car, I gripped the old photo I had found. They hadn’t seen me since I was a baby. They would never recognize me.
     I hesitantly approached the door. What would they say after all these years? I was fortified by the knowledge that Mom had called them and asked for their forgiveness. They had gladly granted her request and, in fact, told her that they had forgiven her long ago. As they talked with Mom, they had confirmed my hunch that they were born again believers. And they knew I was coming and had seemed excited about my visit.
     So why was I so nervous? I had no reason to think they would not warmly receive me.
     The summer sun beat down on my head as I opened the gate and made my way up to the front porch. The wood on the porch was in need of a good coat of paint but a quick glance around showed that it was a comfortable, oft-used place. To my right were two oversized rocking chairs with red gingham cushions. The little round table between them held a few books and an old Bible. 
     I lifted my hand and knocked. Within just a few moments the door was opened, revealing one of the faces from the photo. The years had been kind to my grandfather and, though he was certainly older than he appeared in the photo, his kind eyes and warm smile were the same.
     “Oh, Tara! It is so good to see you,” my grandfather exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. My plump grandmother came rushing from the kitchen. Her white hair was cut short and perfectly framed her pleasant face with its bright blue eyes.
     I gave them both warm hugs in turn and I immediately felt at home. Grandpa got my bags from the car and brought them to a little bedroom on the south side of the house. While it was small and a bit old-fashioned, it had everything in it necessary for comfort. The bed had a fluffy down comforter in hues of green and lavender and a little lamp stood on the small table next to it, along with a vase holding lavender from Grandma’s garden. In the corner was a comfy-looking chair with striped pillows.
     “How do you like it?” asked my Grandma hesitantly.
     “Oh, Betty, dear, I told you this is a mighty fine room. Don’t you believe your dear old husband?” my grandfather teased.
     “Oh, it’s wonderful,” I affirmed with a smile.
     Grandma breathed a big sigh of relief, “I know you young ones are used to all kinds of gadgets and technology and we don’t have too much of that here, but I do hope you will make yourself at home and enjoy your stay. We are so looking forward to getting reacquainted!” She squeezed my hand warmly as she said this and then continued, “Now, we will let you get settled. Come on out to the living room when you are ready.”
     “See you soon, Tara Tomato,” Grandpa said with a wink as he followed after Grandma. The name had rolled off his tongue without him even thinking. I wondered if that was what he had called me as a little girl?

____________________

     I found my grandparents in the living room twenty minutes later and decided to ask them about the name.
     “Grandpa, you called me Tara Tomato just now. Is that what you used to call me?” I asked as I lowered myself on to the cushion at one end of the covered sofa.
     “Why yes, it was actually. And I guess, in my mind, you’ve always been Tara Tomato, even still to this day,”Grandpa gave a little laugh.
     “You must tell her why, Herb,” said my grandma with a smile.
     “Well, as you know, your parents moved away when you were just a little tike. Couldn’t have been two yet,”Grandpa said thoughtfully.
     “Yes, Mom said I was about a year and a half,” I confirmed.
     “Well, that summer before you left, we were having a birthday party in the backyard for someone…” Grandpa looked at Grandma.
     “It was for Richard, I think,” said Grandma.
     “Oh, yes, I believe it was your Uncle Richard’s thirtieth birthday, if I recall correctly. Anyway, you had somehow toddled away without anyone noticing. Your mama was in a bit of a panic as we searched for you. And do you know where we finally found you?”
     I smiled and shook my head.
     Grandpa continued, “we found you in my tomato patch. And were you a sight! You had found a squishy tomato on the ground and you were having a wonderful time making a royal mess. Oh, how we all laughed at you. From that point on, you were Tara Tomato to me!” He laughed heartily as he remembered that moment.
     I wished I could remember that moment. I wished I could remember these dear people who had genuinely loved me and the wonderful warmth and security they must have given to my baby self. I silently mourned what I had lost.
     We spent the next few hours getting reacquainted with each other. They asked lots of questions about my life and also about my brother, Matt. I told them about how my mom and I had come to know the Lord and we rejoiced together in our common bond in Christ.
     I also found out that they had four boys. Robert, Richard, and Randall were my uncles and Raymond, the baby, was my dad. Robert and Richard had married their high school sweethearts, while Randall had met a girl at college. All three were living within twenty minutes of my grandparents.
     I also heard about my cousins, who were a range of ages. Two of the girls were about the same age as me and Grandma was excited for me to meet them.
     “I just can’t wait for you to meet Jayne and Melissa. You will all get along so well, I am just sure of it,” she said with a happy grin.
     I felt a bit overwhelmed but I knew how important it was to my grandparents for me to connect with the rest of the family. And I wanted to, too. But I had grown up without any family and suddenly, there were grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins. It was just so… overwhelming.
     After a dinner of ham, potatoes, and green beans, we found ourselves back in the living room. They were so easy to talk to and conversation easily flowed. Having the Lord in common also opened up the door for many different topics and we had a wonderful time talking about all kinds of things that evening. In fact, it felt like we had talked about every topic except one.
     It was growing late and I didn’t want to go to bed without at least asking.
      “So, I wondered if you could tell me anything about my dad. Mostly I’d like to know where he is,” I said.
      Grandpa looked hesitantly at Grandma and then spoke, “Yes, your mom asked us that, too. When she asked we didn’t know. But just two weeks ago, Ray stopped by completely out of the blue. He didn’t stay long and he didn’t seem to be interested in renewing the relationship but he did want us to know he was okay. He looked pretty good, didn’t he, Betty?” At this my grandmother nodded.
      Grandpa continued, “he told us he had been clean for five years and that he was living with his two dogs in a little cabin about twenty miles from here. We asked if we could visit and he didn’t say no. But he also didn’t seem too excited about it. So we haven’t done anything yet, have we, dear?”
      Grandma smiled sadly as she answered, “No, we haven’t. We were thrilled to hear he is doing well, but we were so disappointed to find out that he didn’t seem interested in being part of the family again. So we aren’t sure what to do at this point.”
      “Grandpa, do you think you could tell me how to find that cabin? I have something I have to tell him for mom. It’s really important.”
      “Well, I guess I could do that,” Grandpa mused, “but I am afraid you may be disappointed.”
      “I’ll have to take that chance,” I said.
     Soon after that, I found myself in my cozy bed with questions crowding my mind. Would I recognize my dad? Had my dad ever loved me? Why hadn’t my dad looked for me? Deep down inside, I realized that I was still that little girl longing for her daddy’s love. How would my dad respond when I finally would see him face to face after all these years? I was scared.

Do you ever find yourself grumbling to yourself about someone? Or perhaps about the housework that is never ending? Grumbling comes so naturally, doesn’t it? Our homes, our jobs, our churches, our families, even our pets… no aspect of our lives are free from the temptation to grumble.

I’ve been thinking a bit about thanksgiving and what it accomplishes in us. I read the verse from Psalm 18 this morning and it just reiterated what I’ve been thinking. This is not going to be a long post but I thought I’d share what God has been teaching me (or perhaps reminding me of what I already know…) It is especially pertinent to me because I’ve been a bit more grumbly than usual.

There are many verses in the Bible about giving thanks. God desires that we give thanks. The terms “with thanksgiving” or “giving thanks” are found throughout scripture. And, in fact, Paul tells us to give thanks in everything…And that this is the will of God. (I Thess. 5:18).

Why does God will that we give thanks in all things?

First, I think it is important to note that it doesn’t say “for all things”. It’s hard to be thankful for troubles and trials. However, in the midst of the troubles and trials, we can find things to be thankful for.

I have not studied this topic in depth but I do know that, as is always the case, giving God glory and fulfilling His will, is also what is best for us. Giving thanks changes us from the inside out.

You just cannot give thanks and grumble in the same breath. If we are thanking God for someone, it is impossible to complain about them. We can thank God for one good thing about that frustrating person—even if it is only that they are helping to mold us to look more like Christ! If I am thanking God for the ability to do laundry, for the comfortable home I have to clean, and the food I get to prepare, I just can’t complain at the same time. They are totally incompatible.

Remembering the blessing of the health we do have instead of dwelling on the aches and pains. Remembering that noisy kids are healthy kids. Remembering that if what (or who) we are complaining about would be taken away, we’d be devastated. Remembering that housework represents having a place to live, clothes to wear, and food to eat. We are so blessed to be able to drive a car, go to the store, to have a job, to attend church and games and concerts and family get-togethers. Oh, that we don’t lose sight of these blessings due to our grumbly hearts.

Thanksgiving does a work in our heart and it is thanksgiving that functions as the antidote to a grumbly heart.

Now if only I could remember that when I am feeling particularly grumbly! But we just take the next step and keep trying to be more and more like Jesus every day. Small changes do add up eventually and we find we are not the same people today that we were a year ago. So let’s be encouraged and let’s be thankful!

It’s Friday and time for part 2 of this year’s Christmas story. (Find Part 1 here)

          After my dad left, life became much less stressful. And, while I keenly felt the loss of my dad, the peace in our home was a much needed respite from the perpetual strife I had experienced in my short lifetime.
          My mom was not unkind, although she was a bit rough around the edges. She did her best and I respected her for that. It wasn’t until I was in my late-20s, that something happened that totally changed the course of my life.
          My mom had worked really hard to make a good life for my brother and me. Again, this was in large part possible because of the kindness of strangers, who paid the rent for us to live in that little cabin by the lake until Mom had put herself through nursing school while working full-time. She graduated when I was seventeen and, from that point on, was able to care for her family without help.
          My brother and I were able to find jobs at local businesses and we gave a good portion of our earnings to help mom with our expenses. My “little” brother wasn’t very little anymore, having grown a good six inches taller than me.
          After graduation, I was offered a job as an administrative assistant in the company where I had worked during high school and continued to live at home. But my brother had big dreams of becoming an engineer. He was a brilliant student and earned a scholarship to a great school, graduating with honors. After his four years at university he was offered a job in Seattle, which he accepted. We were so happy for him but so very sad for ourselves. We knew that Seattle meant times together would be far and few between.
          And so it ended up being just me and mom, living a quiet and mostly content life. Several years passed by unremarkably. Until that dreaded and unexpected day.
          Mom was diagnosed with stage four cancer two days after my twenty-seventh birthday. The next year was a roller coaster, one moment experiencing hope for healing and then the next, having those hopes destroyed with the next scan.
          In the middle of that year, something happened that would have repercussions for eternity. My mom decided she wanted to go to church. This was not unexpected. Knowing that her time on earth was short, she wanted to make sure she knew where she was going when she died. She had been agonizing over this since her diagnosis and I knew she had to go on her own search for peace.
          I encouraged her, although I felt no compulsion to join her. If I am honest, I was pretty angry at God at this point. I had already lost my dad and now I was losing my mom. I told her to have a great time that first Sunday morning and went back to bed.
          By God’s great grace and mercy, my mom ended up at a little Bible church a couple of miles down the road. We had passed it countless times and when Mom decided to try church, this seemed a natural choice. Unbeknownst to her at the time was the pastor’s dedication to God and to preaching His Word without compromise. That Sunday, the pastor preached the true Gospel as found in the scriptures and my mom was saved from sin and hell the very first time she attended.
          She came home very excited about her newfound faith. She shared with me that she now had a peace that defied her diagnosis. I humored her by listening but my heart was hard. I’d believe this big change when I saw it.
          But, surprisingly, I really did see it. My mom was a totally different person. I could see Jesus changing her. Oh, it wasn’t instant or miraculous. But, day by day, I noticed that she was living with a new attitude that was affecting how she lived. She really did have a peace that lasted far beyond that first day and she also had a newfound joy that permeated her life, despite her ill health.
          Within a few months, I was joining mom at church and two weeks before she entered eternity, I was able to tell her that I would see her again in heaven. I had repented of my sin and placed my faith and trust in Jesus Christ alone for salvation.
          Those last few weeks together were so very bittersweet. Sweet because now we knew, without a doubt, that we’d see each other again in heaven. But, oh so bitter, because she had become my best friend and losing her was going to be harder than I could even imagine. I couldn’t even fathom what my life would look like without her.
          During those last few days, when she was still able to talk, she requested something of me that was totally unexpected.
          “Tara, dear…I need you to do something for me…” she began.
          “Sure, mom, whatever you need,” I answered. I had no idea how big her request was.
          She began, “I have made a lot of mistakes in my life,”  she sighed and stared out the window for a moment and then went on, “my hard heart and sinful actions caused so much pain and strife for others. I realize that now. I have been able to make things right with some of those I hurt so badly,” her eyes welled up with tears and I remembered the emotional phone call she had had a few weeks before with her parents. She continued, “But I cannot find your father. It’s like he has disappeared. Even his parents don’t know where he is.”
          My heart started to beat as it began to dawn on me what she was going to request.
          “My dear Tara, oh, how I love you,” she continued, “you have been the evidence of God’s grace in my life long before I even knew He cared about me. And now I have this one last request of you: Can you find your father and let him know how very sorry I am? Can you tell him about your faith in Christ and how Jesus changed both of us? Would you tell him that Jesus can change his life, too? I know this is a big request and if you just do not want to do it, I understand…” she stopped, her eyes begging me to say yes.
          “Oh, mom, of course I will,” I answered. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it but I wasn’t about to deny my mom her dying wish. How cold-hearted would that be?
          She started reminiscing about my dad and how much she wished things had been different. Her soft heart was filled with many regrets and mourned over what might have been. It was during that hour of conversation that I found out that my dad’s parents had been the ones to pay for our little cabin all those years.
          “I don’t know this, for sure, Tara, but I have a feeling that your grandparents already know Jesus by some things your father used to say. Plus their genuine love for me and you kids, despite what happened with their son was extraordinary,” as she spoke I remembered the cards and gifts that would come faithfully every birthday and Christmas from Grandpa and Grandma Elsher in New York. And, while I am sure I met them before we moved away, I didn’t have any memory of them at all. I wouldn’t have known either of them if we had bumped into each other on the street.
          I realized, in that moment, that I would visit my paternal grandparents even before I searched for Dad. I owed them a visit. A visit that was long past due.
         “Don’t worry, Mom, I will find Dad and I’ll tell him,” I reassured her.
          My mom sighed deeply and then fell into a peaceful sleep.

As most of you already know, I love missionary stories. Many of the best ones are out of print and about vibrant believers that we have never heard of. One of these is called *Not by Might, Nor by Power. It tells the story of Paul and Etienne Metzler, missionary pioneers in the country of Chad.

They arrived in Central African Republic in the early 1920s, finally getting permission to set up a mission station in Chad in 1926. They found the Africans very receptive and even told the account of one chief who, with tears in his eyes, shared that he had been wondering about a “god who cares” as he lay in his bed the night before the missionaries came to share the good news of the Gospel. Only God, right?

As the Africans started getting saved, they began to hold believers’ baptisms. In order to be baptized, the Africans held special classes and then the person wanting to be baptized would meet with the missionary and a local deacon.

I was struck profoundly by what I read in regards to these meetings. Here is what is written—

     After some months of instruction, a candidate for baptism would meet with the national deacons and the missionary. Often the missionary would have passed the candidate because he or she knew all the answers, but a deacon would disagree.
      “The words of your mouth are satisfactory,” he would concede, “but the words of your life are not. You cannot walk two ways at the same time. When you show that you have left the way of paganism and superstition, we will approve your baptism.”

Can you imagine what would happen in our churches if the church leaders challenged our lifestyles before they would baptize us? There seems to be little (if any) interest in knowing if the words of a person’s life matches the words of a person’s mouth.

If it did happen here I believe cries of “how dare you judge me!?” would rise up rather quickly.

This book is written back in the early 1920s and already we can see that the Americans would have tended towards letting things slide compared to the Africans. And, oh, how far we’ve come since then. There have been slow, steady, subtle changes that eventually brought about a mainstream church that tolerates sin and worldliness and doesn’t tolerate the truth.

It would seem as if actions do not matter, by and large, in the church of today. But what does the Bible say?

First, we know that all that is good within us comes from God. We can do nothing without Christ. Jesus puts it like this–

 I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. (John 15:5)

We also see from this verse that when we abide in Christ, we bear fruit. What is that fruit? The Bible gives us much to meditate upon in this regards. But let’s take a look at Galatians 5:22-26 for a “nutshell” description of what we should desire to look like as a genuine believer–

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.

Overall, there has been quite an emphasis on the the specific fruits of the Spirit, as recorded in verses 22-23. Books and songs and sermons abound on the fruits of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. But do we really stop and think about God’s definitions of these things? Researching each of these words from scripture (and not from some other book) would probably be a really great study for us all.

But let’s take a look at the verse following the verses about the fruit. It’s interesting to me that this verse seems to much ignored in a worldly Christianity. Again, it says–

And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.

This does not tend to be the most popular topic in our churches today. But if we are going to follow Christ, we need to mine scripture for all of its treasure, even if it’s hard.

What are “affections” and “lusts”? I believe this would be anything that leads us into idolatry or away from God. This includes innocuous things that are not sinful in of themselves, as well as plain old sin and all things God has declared He hates. What does this look like practically for us in this era of Christianity? I don’t have enough room or time to really delve into this but let’s take just a moment to think about this.

If we go back to the Africans, the deacons refused to baptize Africans still steeped in superstition and paganism. What are superstition and paganism? Surely, we do not have any of these things in 2024 American Christianity?

Isn’t it interesting that right now one of the most popular movies (with both non-believers and believers) is the movie “Wicked”, a film steeped in both superstition and paganism?? Witchcraft is no joke to God and we are to avoid it completely. How can watching and enjoying witchcraft on a screen (or on a Broadway stage, for that matter) please our Lord? As I heard a young lady say yesterday: Why would we want to fill our lives with the things that Christ went to the cross to die for? Ironically, earlier in Galations 5 (verse 20), witchcraft is included in the list of things that keep you from inheriting the Kingdom of God. Dabbling with it any way is displeasing to God and oh, so dangerous.

But let’s think on this idea of superstition for a bit. Practically, it is the mysticism that surrounds us in both our culture and our churches. It’s believing that if we talk about something it will happen. It’s believing in messages from our loved ones who went on before us to heaven. It’s relishing and longing for supernatural experiences. I believe there’s actually far more superstition in modern day Christianity than we realize.

But shall we take a moment and look beyond the paganism and superstition that was the evidence of a disingenuous profession in 1920s Africa and take a hard look at our current “Christian” culture specifically?

I submit to you that it is the worldliness in our lives that gives evidence of whether the words of our mouth match the words of our lives. God hates worldliness and, in fact, says that if we are friends with the world we are His enemy! (James 4:4) This is extremely strong language, making it clear that we are one or the other and can never be both.

This love for the world has invaded and seeped into our lives in every area. It has entered our minds through education. It has stolen our time through its entertainment and technologies. It has hijacked our brains through ungodly therapies, books, and podcasts. In general, we are a people professing Christ and yet living like the world.

Please hear me when I tell you that I struggle with this, too. I don’t think this is something we can ever conquer on this side of heaven. The world has so invaded our hearts and minds that we scarcely realize how much.

BUT…

As the Lord convicts us we must act on that conviction.

We can’t just throw up our hands in the air and cry, “It’s too much! Just forget it!”

I was talking about this with someone just last night. There are so many ways the world has invaded that it feels like our choices barely make even a dent in our lives as we strive to move towards holiness. But we must soldier on, surrendering one thing at a time, as the Lord opens our eyes.

I have told you often before how God has been at work in my life in showing me areas that keep me from being holy and godly. I have shared how, despite my initial rebellion and unwilling heart (which has sometimes lasted years), that final surrender has been filled with sweetness and zero regret. Oh, how I have fought God on certain things. He must get so frustrated with me.

But, one thing at a time, we yield what He reveals to us. So let’s not worry about being perfect because it isn’t going to happen. Let’s just worry about today. How can I please the Lord with my life today?

If the African deacons were familiar with my lifestyle and interviewing me, would they be willing to baptize me or not? Would they say that the words of my mouth match the words of my life?

* Not by Might, Nor by Power, written by Joyce Metzler Baker, is hard to find in hard copy. However, it is available on Kindle. Click on this link if you are interested. There is so much more to this faith-building book than this one excerpt. It’s been such a blessing to me already and I’m only half-way through. I feel comfortable recommending it to you (usually I wait until I am done with a book, just in case) because someone I trust recommended it to me. I hope it’s as much a blessing to those of you choose to read it as it has been to me.

In 2016, I had the idea of sharing an original story throughout the Christmas Season and I have been doing this ever since. And so today I present the first installment of the 2024 Christmas story! Each part will be posted on Friday mornings. Since there are only four Fridays between Thanksgiving and Christmas this holiday season, this five-part story will end the Friday after Christmas. I truly hope you enjoy “Until Someday”.

Laurie and I met in Mrs. Johnson’s fifth grade class at Lincoln Elementary and we have been friends ever since. After we were both married, our husbands became friends and, along with another couple, the six of us have remained dear friends these many years, weathering many changes together and supporting one another through various trials. But none of us could have ever imagined the drastic and sad change that was coming our way in the year of 2024.

Walking through this journey with Rob and Laurie (and now just Laurie since Rob has gone on to be with the Lord) has been a growing experience for my husband and me. Rob was a good friend to us and the world just isn’t the same without him. And so we mourn with Laurie and we mourn for Laurie. But, even in the midst of the deep, deep waters, this journey has also been such a confirmation of God’s very intentional love and care for those who seek Him. Watching Rob and Laurie take this journey has been faith-building, to say the least.

I am so grateful for Laurie’s willingness to share her journey over the past year. It has been awesome to see God’s great grace and mercy in the midst of the devastation and tremendous pain. Her testimony is also a great reminder of why we need to be developing deep roots of faith through prayer and Bible Study right now. Today. For none of us knows what lies ahead.

Here is Laurie’s story–

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I was brought up in a great home, with parents that loved each other and one older sister. We didn’t attend church on a regular basis, but would occasionally “try out” this or that church. I wouldn’t say any attendance became regular until I was in about 7th grade. We then started attending a Presbyterian church – my mother grew up attending a Methodist church in Georgia and my father a Presbyterian church in Lancaster County. I attended their “confirmation classes” and became baptized around age 14 or so. This was nothing personal to me, just what was done at that time.

Fast forward to my senior year of high school when I met my future husband, Rob, during that time while working together at a grocery store. He was raised by his mother and a stepfather that entered his life around age 6. His stepfather became a born-again Christian in his 30’s or 40’s I believe. He was presented the gospel by a fellow truck driver and was saved from a life of smoking, swearing, and drug use. This all happened before he met my husband’s mother. Needless to say, I attribute my true faith to Rob and his parents, who faithfully attended a local Nazarene church. I was not allowed to see Rob on Sundays unless I attended church with them. Something I was happy to do, not knowing it would lead to the most important decision of my life. As my teenage years, along with my love for Rob, progressed, I kept feeling Christ’s call for me to accept Him. During one altar call at the Nazarene church, I went forward and accepted that call. I’m sure Rob’s parents were thrilled, as we were engaged to be married at that point.

Fast forward many years – years of college, marriage, and the birth of our four children. Rob and I were both believers, but decided to have a believer’s baptism. We were now attending a Church of God, as it was closer to our house. So one Sunday, after the birth of our first child, Rob and I experienced full immersion baptism and began to grow in our faith. But it was probably another 15-20 years that saw my desire to know Christ on a deeper level begin to take root. A dear friend and I began studying the Word together under another dear friend, Leslie’s, guidance. Little did I know where that studying would lead me and how it would sustain me in a very hard trial to come.

Fast forward to May 2, 2024, just shy of our 36th wedding anniversary – this was the day we received Rob’s diagnosis of stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Oh how we needed to lean into His Word and promises when we learned that diagnosis! Devastating to say the least – but we both began to rely much more heavily on our faith and the faith of our family, close friends, and our church family. God was on this new journey with us – all the time. Right away, we both acknowledged God’s sovereignty over our lives. Did this make it all wonderful and pleasant? Absolutely not. But did it make the journey smoother and give us hope? Yes.

Both Rob and I saw God smoothing out the upcoming paths on at least a weekly basis, if not daily. From the moment Rob finally decided to pursue the reason behind his continuous stomach discomfort, God was preparing things. Appointments that happened at specialists within days rather than weeks, getting our first appointment with an oncologist that ended up being a Christian (I flat out asked her after one of her comments. It’s amazing how a life altering diagnosis removes your desire to be cautious.), to hearing about a more holistic approach to cancer treatment one day and being actually in the program within a week, having amazing support by other believers, well I could go on and on. If you’d like to read more about our journey and all the amazing ways God supported us, please go ahead and visit my CaringBridge link to read more:
https://www.caringbridge.org/site/23d88756-16c8-11ef-856d-c58a3fe1c886

My high school sweetheart passed away on August 16 of this year – three and half months following his diagnosis. God was again answering prayers – from the very beginning, my prayer was that God would not allow Rob to suffer long or to linger. We were at OCNJ for a family vacation – our family now included four in-laws and nine grandchildren. Rob was definitely declining as the week went on, but God blessed us with good moments with Rob in that week, which all of us appreciated and soaked up.

However, we had to leave right away Thursday morning per Rob’s request. I believe he knew his time was coming. Long story short, we made it home and Rob was admitted to Hospice Inpatient facility, where they were able to make him comfortable and he passed within 9 hours of being there. The Lord did not let him linger, for which we are all thankful, even though it’s still terribly hard.

Where does this leave me today? God is still showing up and sustaining me in countless ways. If He wasn’t, I fear it would be harder to go about my daily life. Life does continue on – chores need done, bills need paid, and birthdays still happen. Has all of this challenged my faith? No. Yes, I question God’s timing of taking Rob before his 58th birthday, but to this day I still do not question his sovereignty. He has numbered our days before we were even formed – this is one thing Rob and I both believe in. It is still very challenging adjusting to life without a man who was a huge part of my life for 40 years, but the prayers of many, the Christian love of many, and the faith of our children have shown me the love of Christ. Oh to see how God prepares us before we even know what we will face. If I had not begun to study the Bible in more depth, I would not have been prepared to let go of Rob and face these challenges – of that I am convinced. I know His promises, and those are what I cling to. It’s not an easy task at times, to go through the days and nights without my earthly husband, but knowing Rob was saved and that his faith grew deeper in the three months we had with the knowledge of the end of his story, and resting in my salvation that no one can take away from me- this is what gives me comfort.

Some days are harder to “walk the talk” of knowing God is in control, but I also know God gives me grace in that, and each day or hour is a new one to try again. I know Rob is now pain free and in the arms of Jesus – and that is what I try to focus on as I grieve his loss. As I look back upon my life story, it is just so apparent to me that God is always preparing us and most often we don’t even realize it. Just as losing my dad to brain cancer at the age of 63, then my mother to colon cancer almost exactly 20 years later, helped me “navigate” the world of cancer for my husband, having knowledge of the Word has helped me navigate this world and deepen my faith. No, not everyone who studies His Word is being prepared for a great trial, but the thing is – we don’t know what is coming our way. Only God does. So wouldn’t it be so helpful to be prepared if you are to go through a trial by truly studying the Bible? You just never know when/how/or if you will need it.

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(Quick note— I was so surprised to read that Laurie was studying the scripture “under my guidance” when she started actually studying the Bible, because that’s the exact same time I started really studying the Bible. I probably “knew more” because of growing up in a vibrant Christian home and spending time at a Christian college, learning the “facts”. But it wasn’t until that time, with Laurie and our other dear friend, that I started actually studying the Bible for myself, as well. And what a joy and help this has been in my life! God has given us His Word to us as a gift. I am ashamed and disappointed I didn’t recognize this sooner in my life but am so grateful that God finally opened my eyes to the value of His Word. As many of you know, this is my “why” for the blog–to encourage my readers to know God through His Word sooner rather than later. Laurie has reminded us today of just one reason why this is so important.)

You can read other stories of God’s awesome work in the lives of those who love and trust Him here at this page.

A teacher once told me that her students have stopped wanting to be doctors and lawyers and now want to be “social media influencers”. From a worldly perspective, we can understand this can’t we? This would yield fame and easy money, both of which are highly valued in a society such as ours.

But I wonder if our young people highly valuing these things has also filtered into our own belief system at some level. Of course, few who are reading this want to be an “influencer”. That would not be the goal of most of us and maybe not even one of us.

However, as you consider your calling as a Christian, do you ever think you are “just a mom” or “just an admin assistant” or “just a store clerk”?

“Just a ______________”. Fill in the blank with your own title.

This often leads us to believe we aren’t doing enough for Christ. And perhaps we aren’t. But this will be because we aren’t living for Christ and not because of where we are placed in this life.

I was reading a book by a missionary a few weeks ago and in one chapter she was putting her readers on a severe guilt trip for not going to foreign countries to tell others about Jesus. At first, I was quite moved. But then, as I reflected on her words, I was convinced she was not correct in approaching missions in this way.

Yes, some people are called to be missionaries and pastors. There are those who will do “great things” for the Lord. But we can’t all do that. And we aren’t all supposed to do that. That is not the calling for everyone.

So what is the calling of every believer?

After I read what the missionary wrote, God providentially led me to Titus 2, where Paul describes the godly believer in every stage: Older men, older women, younger women, younger men.

He says this—

But speak thou the things which become sound doctrine: That the aged men be sober, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in charity, in patience. The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.
Young men likewise exhort to be sober minded. In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works: in doctrine shewing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, Sound speech, that cannot be condemned; that he that is of the contrary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of you. (Titus 2:1-8)

He then goes on to write what servants are to be like as they serve their masters and then gives this command to all believers, no matter their place or status in life—

Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; (Titus 2:12-13)

These passages give a message that is in complete opposition to our culture. Here we see that what we do for a living or how much of an influence we have is irrelevant. We are to live soberly, righteously, and godly wherever God has placed us in this life.

Wherever we are is where we are to live wholeheartedly for God. And by living this way, we will have a godly influence on those around us which God can use for His purposes and His glory.

We live in an era where it’s all about numbers. We are now taught that the larger the number, the more successful the church or event or person. But this is not a biblical formula for success and, truthfully, it never has been in historical Christianity.

Titus 2 is just one place in the New Testament that describes how we are to live as believers. There are many others, including specifically Romans 12, Colossians 3, Ephesians 5, Galatians 5, most of James, and the last few verses of Jude.

If you take the time to examine these passages, you will notice that none of these passages encourage us to do “BIG THINGS” for Jesus. Instead we are told to live for Christ as parents, as children, as servants, as siblings in Christ. Wherever we are is where we are to live in daily surrender to God, denying our flesh and living in a manner that becomes a follower of Christ.

So let’s not lose sight of what scripture tells us matters in this “Christian” culture that is so very confused about what matters.

May we, day by day, live for Jesus so that others will notice we are not the same as the world around us. May we strive to live holy, joyful lives that honor God as we look for the blessed hope and the glorious appearing of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

The other day, my husband was laying in the recliner after his latest surgery (we are also hoping this is the last surgery for a while!) As he lay there watching TV, he caught a bit of movement. Moving his eyes downward, he saw a mouse that had apparently crawled out from beneath the gas fireplace. It scurried back to safety when it realized there were people in the room.

We live in the country at the edge of a field and this is the time of year these little creatures are searching for a warm place to live. We were not really surprised.

I never actually saw it and I remember thinking we should set a trap but we then both kind of forgot about it. Until the next night.

We had settled down for the night and I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable on the sofa and didn’t feel tired. So I just lay there reading for a good hour or two. Suddenly, I heard a soft rustling sound coming from the kitchen. Uh oh. The big dog was in her dog bed just a few feet away and the little dog was on the sofa with me. It wasn’t the dogs. It had to be the mouse.

We had gotten some take-out for dinner and the bag was still on the counter, waiting to be taken out with the rest of the trash the next morning. I realized the mouse was in the bag.

I got up and turned on the lights and walked back to the kitchen. Of course, our little visitor had disappeared by then. So I went back to the sofa and continued reading.

A few minutes later, the rustling started again. What a brave little thing.

Again, I hopped up off the sofa. First, I took the bag from the counter and placed it on the floor in the mud room and shut the door. Then I went into the laundry room and retrieved two mousetraps. At 1:30am, my husband was smearing peanut butter on traps and setting them and I was placing them in the kitchen.

At that point, my husband told me he’d be fine if I wanted to sleep in our bed upstairs. I decided if there was any hope of me getting any sleep at all, I’d probably need to do that. So after making sure he was okay and had everything he needed, I headed upstairs. I wasn’t laying in my bed for very long when I heard a loud SNAP! I knew we’d gotten our little home invader and finally drifted off to sleep.

Someone said later how mice can be so cute. And I agree. They actually are if you really look at them. But you can’t let them in your house. They leave so much dirt, they destroy things, and they multiply like crazy. You have to remove them from your home if you don’t want a bigger problem down the road.

In fact, they are a little like false teachers.

False teachers seem pretty innocent with their big smiles and kind, fluffy words. They don’t seem as if they could hurt a fly. But if you allow them into your mind or welcome then into your home or church, they will show their true colors. They will bring a lot of dirt (bad spiritual fruit), they will destroy relationships (they cause division in churches), and they will multiply (let one in and more will come).

It’s interesting to me that we would never even consider letting a rodent take up residence in our home. We understand that this will lead to future problems. And yet we lovingly invite spiritual “rodents” into our homes and even our churches, welcoming them with open arms and attacking anyone who would say, “hey, wait a minute, don’t they teach this wrong thing…?”

I wish we could all just take a step back and see the Big Picture. I wish we could see—really see—the destruction that has been wrought on the church because of these spiritual rodents.

I can’t find anywhere in scripture that we are to just ignore false teachers or, worse yet, to welcome them. Instead we see that we are to spot them and avoid them (Romans 16:17), we are to turn them from our doors (2 John 7-9), and we are to prove all things and hold fast only to what is good (I Thessalonians 5:21-22).

I know it is not popular to bring attention to false teachers. I also realize that most Christians prefer to focus on the “good things” of the Bible. It is a hard world to live in and we want to read pleasant things that will uplift our spirits and give us encouragement to keep going.

But to only focus on the “good” leaves us vulnerable to so much danger. This is why God lovingly told us to beware and to remove them.

We need to teach and speak the whole counsel of God. We all need to do this, not just bloggers, speakers, or authors. If we truly love our fellow siblings in Christ, we all need to speak all of God’s Word, not just the happy things.

False teachers will pick and choose their scriptures, but true servants of God will teach all of it, both the positive and the negative. As you choose who to read and listen to, be sure they teach the whole counsel of the scripture.

And as we are given opportunities to share and speak up, may we speak the whole truth of God’s Word and not just what people want to hear.

And when we run into someone who is not doing this? Well, then it’s time to be remove “the mouse from the house”. Take that false teacher from the residence of your mind for they will cause much spiritual damage in the long run.

For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be transformed as the ministers of righteousness; whose end shall be according to their works. (2 Corinthians 11:13-15)