And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren.
In reflecting on Jesus and His tomb, I cannot help but think of my morning playing Schrödinger's cat with a 3-year-old.
What’s my mission? What’s my vision? What’s my goal?
Presence - not presents - is the true gift of Christmas.
What if, instead of being jealous of all the babies, wedding, engagements, relationships, etc. surrounding me, I saw them as signs of hope?
Jesus wasn't excepting nor wanting me to be perfect in the way I thought of perfect. My version of perfection is a pedestal, a level that no one can reach where their body is impeccable, their academic record is flawless, and their personal life is unblemished. But Jesus Himself was battered and bruised, considered stupid by the religious leaders of the day, and had drama in His personal life.
I don't feel like I have enough as it is, so how the heck am I supposed to tithe?