Missing the Point

Two Christmas stories

Ebenezer Scrooge. The Grinch. What instantly comes to mind whenever we hear those names? Greed. Hatred. Meanness.

Why?

Isn’t the whole point of both stories that even the most evil among us can change dramatically? Scrooge “became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.” The Grinch’s heart “grew three sizes that day.” They were both redeemed to a new way of life.

Shouldn’t our immediate thought when we hear one of those names be, “I remember him; he’s the one who became so much better than anyone ever thought he could be”? Shouldn’t we keep those positive images in our minds at this time of year?

It’s the theme of the entire Bible. No one is beyond redemption. Not Adam and Eve. Not Jacob. Not Thomas. Not Peter. Not Saul. Not Augustine. Not John Newton. Not Charles Colson. Not Rosaria Butterfield. Not me or you.

We seem to accept the changes in these people’s lives as being permanent. Why not do the same with poor old Scrooge and the Grinch?

I have to admit that we might be influenced simply by the sounds of their names. The authors chose well. Those names don’t sound pleasant or happy.

But surely it must go deeper than that.

Another reason could be that both fictional stories end with a brief glimpse of their new personalities and that’s it. We don’t really get to know them after they’ve been redeemed. In contrast, we have a great deal of information about the real people named above as they’ve lived out their new lives.

Maybe that’s all it is.

Deeper reasons

But I’ve wondered for several years now: Why don’t we get the message of A Christmas Carol (by Charles Dickens) and How the Grinch Stole Christmas (by Dr. Seuss)? Why do most of the images of the Grinch that we see at this time of year show him with that evil look on his face? As if he’d never changed.

Maybe we find it too hard to believe that anyone can be transformed so drastically in so short a time. No one goes from being despicable to being lovable instantaneously, do they?

Maybe we can relate better to the unredeemed Scrooge and Grinch. Their new selves set too high a standard for us to live up to, and we know it. We feel like failures compared to these remarkable characters. We’re more comfortable around their faults than their virtues.

And maybe it’s a reflection of our darker nature, the part of us that finds pleasure in hating. In an article on the “Public Discourse” website, Daniel Sonnenfeld writes, “Much ink has been spilled on charting the roots and causes of hate and its diverse manifestations. Yet in all these intellectual analyses and sociological investigations, one cause has largely escaped notice: the simple pleasure of hate.”

A tag line for the 1980s prime-time soap opera “Dallas” was “the man you love to hate,” referring to popular character J. R. Ewing. There’s something attractive, something pleasurable, in hating someone.

In the case of Scrooge or the Grinch or J. R., where that hatred is directed against an obviously evil target, it feels virtuous. But it’s not. Jesus tells us to love those who do evil things (Matthew 5:44). That’s what He does (Romans 5:8).

The abundance of bullying and online trolls demonstrates our human capacity to hate simply for the pleasure of it. Maybe we enjoy the anger and hatred we feel toward Scrooge and the Grinch at the beginning of their stories more than we enjoy our admiration for their new lives.

The original Christmas story

What do we think of at Christmas time? Santa Claus, reindeer, snow, decorated trees, lights. Maybe a baby in a manger.

But even when we consider the biblical side, do we limit our thinking to an infant, a holy family, a bright star, angels, wise men, and shepherds? That’s certainly better than remembering the bad side of Scrooge and the Grinch, but it still falls short.

Just as those characters didn’t remain the same by the end of the story, Jesus didn’t remain a baby or even a young man. He didn’t just become a good man or a prophet. He wasn’t killed as a martyr, but as a sacrifice. The whole point of His coming was to die to redeem us.

At some level, we get this. We recognize the fictional stories as Christmas stories even though their theme is redemption, not birth.

Shouldn’t our immediate thought when we see the baby in the manger be, “He’s the one who came to save me from my sins”? It’s the theme of the entire Bible.

One reason we stay focused on the manger scene is simply that babies have a natural way of touching our hearts. We like the warm fuzzy feeling they give us.

But surely it must go deeper than that.

Another reason is that the Gospels mostly cover Jesus’ life as a man on this earth. We only get a brief glimpse of the risen Christ. As with Scrooge and the Grinch, most of what we read about our Savior comes before His transformation.

But that’s not all it is.

Deeper reasons

It can be hard to believe that the Son of God would do such a dramatic thing as being born in a human body and dying on a cross all for the sake of mere people. Hasn’t history proven that we’re a lousy, violent bunch of animals that don’t deserve to live, much less live eternally? All we do is bring misery and suffering to a beautiful natural world that would be better off without us. Why would the Lord of the universe go so far as to die for us?

We can relate better to Jesus the man, living, walking, working, talking in this world. He ate, He prayed, He slept, He cried. We’re more comfortable around a vulnerable and compassionate human being than the risen Son of God.

Part of our darker nature refuses to admit that we need to be redeemed. Many people believe that they’ll go to heaven when they die just because. Because they’re not as evil as Hitler. Because the good things they’ve done outweigh the bad things. Because God loves everybody and will therefore forgive anything and everything they’ve done without anyone having to pay any kind of price for it.

And part of our darker nature doesn’t want what Jesus has to offer. Living a self-centered lifestyle is so much fun! We enjoy the darkness more than we think we could enjoy a godly life (John 3:19).

Getting the point

It’s okay to celebrate the birth of Jesus, just as it’s okay to get a kick out of the stories of Scrooge and the Grinch even before they change. Another reason we like them before their redemption is because of the cleverness and creativity the authors display in developing their characters.

But just as we need to move beyond their initial ugly personalities and remember the whole point of the books—their transformation—we also need to move beyond the attraction of a baby in a manger. We need to remember the whole purpose behind the Son of God taking on a human body.

Those characters have become popular because they changed so dramatically. There would be no story if they didn’t. In the same way, we need to celebrate Christmas because it leads to Good Friday and Easter. There would be no point in Jesus’ birth apart from His sacrifice to redeem us sinners.

 

 

 

Joy and Sorrow at Christmas

Different views of Christmas

Words to a Christmas carol, as I remember them from my childhood:

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat.
Please put a penny in the old man's hat.
If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do.
If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you!

My impression of our expectations of the Christmas season today: Get excited! Be happy! Put up flashy decorations. Enjoy the great American pleasure of shopping. Eat holiday foods. Drink holiday drinks. Party. Escape from the hardships of life.

But then I look at the thoughts in the old carol. First joyful anticipation—looking forward to the birth of Christ and a fat goose to feast on. Next a poor old man. A prayer (expressing hope and compassion) for God’s blessing if you’re so broke you can’t even give away half a penny. All enfolded in an upbeat melody. Real joy in the presence of real suffering. A joy that opens the heart to give to those in need.

Which of these two images is more consistent with the first Christmas?

The up side

There were many happy moments surrounding Jesus’ birth. When Mary visited Elizabeth during both of their pregnancies, they praised God and celebrated together. (Luke 1:39-56)

An angel of the Lord appeared to lowly shepherds, bringing good news of great joy. A great company of the heavenly host suddenly joined them, praising God. (Luke 2:8-20)

Wise men from the east followed a bright star to Bethlehem to worship Jesus and present Him with precious gifts. (Matthew 2:1-12)

It’s good and right for us to celebrate His birth with joy and thanksgiving. God living among us in the flesh was the greatest gift the world had ever been given. The very idea that He would live a human life, with its roughness and dirt and hungers, leaves me in awe of His undeserved love and compassion. How can I help smiling and laughing and feasting and giving generously?

But what about those who are experiencing sorrow and pain at this time of year? Are they supposed to just ignore the aching, plaster on a fake smile, and join the celebrations? Should they feel guilty if they’re unable to pump up the enthusiasm that the season seems to demand?

The down side

There was another side to the months surrounding the first Christmas. A solemn side. A dark side. A painful side.

Mary and Joseph faced the unjust judgment of all their friends and neighbors when she became pregnant before they were married (Luke 1:26-38). They were required by a decree of Caesar to make a difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem shortly before Jesus was born. When they arrived in that overcrowded little town, the only lodging they could find was in a stable. That’s where she had her baby. (Luke 2:1-7)

I have a tendency to romanticize their lives at this point. Look how they loved each other, if they were willing to go through so much together. Look how strong their faith was, as they obeyed God every time an angel gave them new instructions.

It seems almost blasphemous to think that they might have questioned God or complained or even just felt weary and discouraged. And yet they were human. And young. They didn’t fully understand what God was doing through them (Luke 2:33). They probably weren’t the perfect pair that I’ve always imagined.

When the Magi came, King Herod was so alarmed by their statement that they were seeking the king of the Jews, that he ordered all the baby boys in and around Bethlehem to be killed. Mothers were helpless as their precious children were murdered. Joseph and his little family fled to Egypt for safety. Another uncomfortable journey. (Matthew 2:1-18)

We could easily make Christmas a time of mourning and sorrow if we chose to look only at the dark side of the times. That obviously wouldn’t be appropriate.

But I think it would be okay to grieve even as we rejoice. To recognize that, as long as Satan is active on this earth, he will attack most viciously when God is pouring out His greatest blessings. And as long as we live on a planet broken by the Fall, pain will always hover around even our most joyful days.

Being both up and down

In spite of my caricature above, in some ways we Americans do experience both joy and sorrow at this Christmas season. We’re more aware of the needs around us now than at any other time of the year.

People give more generously. Organizations provide holiday meals. Children with impoverished or imprisoned parents receive special gifts. We recognize certain kinds of suffering and our obligation to help reduce it.

But do we allow those who are hurting in other ways to feel their pain? Or do we subtly pressure them to get with the program and rejoice?

A Christian friend shared a recent experience with me. Her husband’s health is declining. When she went to an event at church (alone, as her husband was too sick to attend), her heart was heavy with the sorrow of watching him suffer and of knowing that their marriage of more than fifty years was coming to an end. Her pain was intensified as she noticed other women in similar positions laughing and joking.

Her conclusion as she was telling me the story was that she’d had a bad attitude. She should’ve been able to put her grief aside, as those other women were apparently doing, and rejoice in our Savior.

Why can’t we do both? Both grieve and rejoice. Feel the very real pain, as many of the writers of the Bible did. (Especially the prophets and psalmists.) Even Jesus wept. Even when He knew that great rejoicing was only a moment away. (John 11:1-44)

This is the Christian life. It hurts. We suffer. We can’t and shouldn’t downplay that suffering. But the rejoicing is so much fuller than the sorrow. Jesus was born and walked among us. He died to give us eternal life. He rose from the dead. There is now no condemnation for those who follow Him. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. (Romans 8:1, 38-39)

But the pain still lingers. We can get through it because, as one who lived life in the flesh, Jesus is with us in that pain.

Just like in the Christmas carol. We can enjoy the feast without ignoring the sorrow. An old man stands on a street corner begging. Others are so poor they can’t help him out. But Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, we have the privilege of praying to a compassionate God to bless the needy, and the overall melody is upbeat.

 

 

Why Should They Believe?

A recent cultural shift

How can we expect our children to be dedicated to the one true God? Bible-believing Christians are a small minority in America. The dominant culture ignores or disdains our primitive ideas. Supporting biblical sexual morality is labeled hate speech.

Our country has changed drastically in my lifetime (sixty-plus years). As a child, my family only went to church at Christmas and Easter, and we rarely talked about spiritual issues at home. Yet I picked up a relatively accurate understanding of Christianity simply by living in America.

It wasn’t specifically taught in my public schools. There were no oral prayers being recited. But the cultural aspects snuck in.

We sang “America, America, God shed His grace on thee” and “God Bless America.” Our music classes presented Christmas programs with songs that reflected the original meaning of the holiday, not just the ones celebrating Santa Claus and snow. Our spelling words included omniscient and omnipotent.

Friends talked about God as if it was perfectly natural and reasonable to believe in Him. Everyone knew that BC meant Before Christ. We were a little confused about AD, though. Some kids speculated that it meant After Death. When we were considered old enough, we were taught—in public school—that it meant Anno Domini, Latin for “the year of our Lord.”

Fast forward to today.

I’m chatting with ten-year-old Michael at my church one evening. His parents are faithful believers. He has a good background in the Bible. He doesn’t openly question it, but he seems to have his doubts about the reality of some of its teachings.

Why should he believe it? He’s being bombarded every day with the message that it’s unimportant, it’s outdated, it’s based on superstition, it’s packed with hateful lies.

A historical cultural shift

For some reason Michael asks me what BC means. (He knows very well that BCE stands for Before the Current Era.) I tell him that it means Before Christ.

And then it hits me.

In spite of all our cultural denials, Jesus’ birth has had a tremendous impact on our entire world. I know that, but how many kids in America today have any idea that it’s true?

I point out to Michael that Jesus’ birth was considered so very important that our entire dating system is based on it. People used to number the years according to when the latest king began to reign, e.g. “In the twentieth year of Jeroboam king of Israel . . .” (1 Kings 15:9). Eventually they realized that it would be helpful to have an ongoing international system. No more turning back to year one every so often. No more using different dates in different countries.

The decision was made to base the calendar on the same idea (the reign of a king), but to set it up so that it could continue until the end of time without ever starting over. Which king could be chosen? Which one’s reign could never be surpassed by anyone else’s? Only the King of kings. Jesus.

The expression on Michael’s face is one of thoughtful relief. He wants to believe. And yet it often appears to him as if Jesus’ birth was something trivial, something only a minor few actually celebrate on Christmas Day.

But here is evidence that that hasn’t always been true. There was a time when many intelligent people regarded the birth of Jesus as the most defining moment in history.

Jesus’ importance

Jesus is far more important to our world than modern Americans are willing to admit. Our young ones need to know that. We educate them in the facts of the faith, as we should. We encourage them to learn the order of the books of the Bible and to read it for themselves, as we should. Some groups teach them apologetics at their youthful level. A great idea.

But eventually every kid realizes that only one small group believes all this. Does it really matter? How important can it be if most people simply ignore it?

Most of our children (and probably many adults) aren’t aware of the numerous ways Jesus’ birth has impacted our world. One profound impact was presented by Philip Yancey in his blog post, from March 25, 2019. (The next four paragraphs are based on that article. All of the following quotes are taken from it. Yancey's blog is no longer available, after being deleted in January 2026.)

In America today, one of the most important values upheld by the dominant culture is concern for the marginalized. Those who can claim to belong to one or more oppressed groups are assumed to have a kind of moral authority, which gives them instant respect. Where did this type of thinking come from?

A French philosopher named René Girard did extensive research and “ultimately traced the phenomenon back to the historical figure of Jesus.” The Son of God not only stood up for the marginalized and oppressed, He actually chose to be born into a poor family in a conquered territory, to live as a homeless adult, and to die an unjust death. Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection triggered “the most sweeping historical revolution in the world, namely, the emergence of an empathy for victims.”

In contrast, up to that time most cultures supported “a social order in which the strong have a right to dominate the weak.” “Winners, not losers, wrote ancient history, and the myths from Babylon, Greece, and elsewhere celebrated strong heroes, not pitiable victims.” The Old Testament was the only exception to this rule, with its emphasis on helping the helpless, its willingness to tell the history of a nation’s failures, and its powerful expression of God’s love for those who mess up so badly.

Even apart from His saving grace (which is, of course, the most important message in His Word), Jesus’ birth was important. Jesus’ life was important. Jesus’ death was important. The resurrected Jesus continues to be important. “Today, if you Google indices that measure such values as economic freedom, press freedom, charitable giving, earth care, gender equality, quality of life, human rights, and lack of corruption, you will find that with very few exceptions Christian-heritage nations receive the highest ratings.”

The values that our current cultural elites consider so very important are based entirely on Christian theology. Those values didn’t originate with Jesus’ birth, though. He simply embodied them in a way that no one else had ever done before. The God of the Bible has been the same God for all eternity.

In the Old Testament, He demonstrated and demanded empathy and care for widows, orphans, the poor, immigrants, and anyone else who might be vulnerable to abuse by the powerful. Those commands had a real impact on Jewish life and character.

It wasn’t until the crucifixion, though, when “the victim became a hero by offering himself as a willing victim,” that people were motivated and enabled (with the help of the indwelling Holy Spirit) to do as God has always done. Not perfectly. Not consistently. But for the first time in history, it became a priority for one group (Christians) to care about the weak and the oppressed.

One of the messages our kids are hearing everywhere today is that Jesus and the Bible are trivial and irrelevant, or even dangerous. Maybe one way we can counter that idea is by understanding for ourselves and passing on to them the truth that Jesus is the most important person in history. Jesus’ birth was the most important event in history.

That importance can be seen not just in how we date our calendars, but in the powerful impact for good that still flows from His life today, even among those who don’t believe in Him. Even among those who detest His followers. God is continuing to fulfill His promise to Abraham that all nations will be blessed through his offspring (Genesis 22:18). The one whose birth we celebrate on Christmas Day.

 

 

(This article was edited by the author on February 10, 2026.) 

 

 

Bringing Joy

John brings joy

I always think of John the Baptist as a harsh, critical, angry kind of guy. Some of his earliest recorded words were, “You brood of vipers!” (Luke 3:7). He scolded the crowds who came to hear him. His language was so sharp, so judgmental that it led to his imprisonment by Herod, followed by his execution. Quite a contrast to the gentle baby Jesus lying in a manger.

And yet the angel of the Lord, when announcing John’s coming birth to his father, Zechariah, says John will bring joy to those around him (Luke 1:14). I can see how he might do that in a very limited way. Of course he’ll bring joy to his parents, who had pretty much given up hope of ever having a child. Zechariah’s friends and relatives will rejoice with him, too, over the miraculous event.

But I just can’t imagine the fiery John the Baptist bringing joy to anyone else. Conviction, yes. Sorrow, yes. Joy, no.

Then I read on in Luke chapter 3, looking for hints of bringing joy. Once again, his comments sound harsh and critical to my ears. He’s demanding self-sacrifice from his hearers. That’s never easy for us naturally self-centered and fearful creatures.

If you have two tunics, give one to the needy. (But what if something happens to the one that I have left?)

Share whatever food you have with those who are hungry. (But what if I don’t have enough for tomorrow? Or next week?)

To the tax collectors: Don’t collect any more money than you’re required to. (I’ve been told that they didn’t have a set income. Their wages consisted of whatever they could gather beyond the amount they sent to Rome.)

To the soldiers: No extortion, no false accusations, be content with your pay. (Sounds like they were poorly paid and desperate for ways to use their positions of power to compensate.)

Life was uncertain back then. John’s listeners were much more at the mercy of the elements than we are today. And at the mercy of their Roman conquerors. Yet John is telling them to give up what little security they have. Who could find joy in that advice?

It takes a minute, but then I realize the obvious. John’s teaching would bring joy to many. To the poor. The vulnerable. The abused. The recipients of the extra tunic and food. The taxpayers. The potential victims of extortion and false accusations. The ones who learned to find true contentment in their current circumstances. If it spread, the kinder, gentler attitude of John’s followers would bring greater joy to the entire culture.

Jesus brings joy

At this time of year, we focus on the baby Jesus and the message of joy that He brings. Is there anything more likely to trigger joy than a sweet, harmless, helpless little baby? God created us this way. As moms and dads snuggle their children shortly after birth, the parents’ bodies release hormones that generate good feelings, helping them bond with their new little ones.

And we remember the greetings that the angels brought to the shepherds. Our Christmas carols proclaim peace on earth, good will toward men.

But, like John the Baptist, Jesus could also be harsh. He echoed John’s words in calling the Pharisees a brood of vipers (Matthew 12:34). In Luke 12:51, He declared very bluntly, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” He said families would be divided by His message. The entire Jewish culture would be split in the debate over whether He was truly the Messiah that they’d been expecting for millennia.

Jesus didn’t bring joy to the religious leaders of His day. He didn’t bring joy to the rich young ruler. He didn’t bring joy to the self-righteous.

Again like John, though, Jesus preached a message of concern for the poor, hope for the vulnerable, and relief for the victims. Yes, He set high standards—making anger comparable to murder, and making lust or remarriage after divorce comparable to adultery. He advised his hearers to tear out the eye or chop off the hand that offends the righteousness of God. But He also proclaimed blessings on the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. (All these teachings are found in Matthew chapter 5.)

The Baby brings joy

I know we inherit original sin at conception. Even a newborn isn’t entirely innocent. He’s a bundle of selfishness, demanding that his needs be met without lifting a finger to minister to anyone else. But in his newness and neediness and naivety, that baby is a symbol of the poor in spirit, the meek, and the pure in heart.

Maybe that’s one reason God sent Jesus to us as an infant. In His first appearance, He reminds us of the good, the pure, and the hope that we hold. He touches the hearts of those around Him, softening them by His very presence.

So I’ll take some time this Christmas season to find joy in Jesus the baby. During this period of busyness, I’ll occasionally turn my eyes from the pain and suffering around me without accusing myself of denial or escapism. I’ll receive that joy as a gift from God to be remembered and celebrated at least once a year. Later, I’ll recall the sorrow and the injustice in my world. But right now I’ll rest in the joy and peace and hope that the angels declared to the shepherds and that the Baby stirs in the hearts of all who come near to Him.

 

 

A Very Human Mary

Mary’s strengths

Mary was human. I know that. And yet my mental image of her verges on superhuman perfection.

Her faith was so much greater than mine. She was so quick to accept God’s will for her life. Her poem in Luke 1:46-56 reveals a depth of understanding of both God’s character and His Word that few teenage girls of her time or any other time have ever achieved. (My thanks to a wise mentor who recently pointed out to me the numerous Old Testament references in this song of praise. She knew her Scripture amazingly well.) At her age, I was just a baby Christian with a great deal to learn.

Mary must have gone through many challenging, puzzling, and painful experiences from Jesus’ conception to His resurrection, yet her faith remained strong. My sense of her personality from the first two chapters of Luke is that she genuinely wanted to please God and follow Him, even when she didn’t understand what was happening. She trusted Him. I’ve always had great admiration for her. But reading through Luke chapter 1 this time around, the main characteristic that strikes me is her humanity.

Gabriel’s visit

One day, the angel Gabriel appears to Mary, presumably as she’s simply going about her normal routine. She must be alone (which would make the situation more difficult) or the story would likely read a little differently. She’s “greatly troubled” by the angel’s greeting. Human. If she was the perfect saint that I want her to be, surely she would humbly and graciously accept his visit with a calm and peaceful heart. In awe, but not troubled.

Gabriel informs Mary that she has nothing to be afraid of and that she’s found favor with God. He tells her that she’s going to get pregnant. This is where her thoughts get stuck. Does she actually hear his next words, describing the incredible child that she’s going to bear? Her response is a confused, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”

Her entire focus is on the physical logistics: How can a virgin have a baby? She’s probably also thinking about, and fearing, the social and legal repercussions of getting pregnant before being married. She seems to have missed the entire message about Who her Son will be. So human.

Even after Gabriel gives a brief explanation of how Mary’s pregnancy will occur, and reassures her with the words, “Nothing is impossible with God,” Mary seems to be thinking about the immediate, short-term issue, not the great and glorious future. She replies, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” As if she’s still thinking about the difficulties of her pregnancy, not the joy of the coming Messiah.

My focus

How often do I forget the wonder of God’s promises because I’m too focused on the pesky little details, and the possible shame and suffering, involved in getting there?

Do I think ahead to the miracle of seeing a friend come to salvation? Or do I lock up, hesitating about witnessing to her, because of my fear of looking foolish or being rejected? Do I approach a difficult subject with a family member at the Holy Spirit’s prompting, knowing that our relationship will be strengthened by working through our differences? Or does that seemingly irresistible desire to avoid conflict hold me back?

My Bible study leader is doing a brief series on 2 Thessalonians. Much of the book deals with the Second Coming of Christ. The teacher has warned us right from the start that we need to keep our eyes on the promise and the joy of His appearing, rather than getting bogged down in the details of the specific events. His question: At the end of my days, do I want to be known as one who made the best arguments on social media for a certain interpretation of the end times, one who shut down all the other voices screaming to be heard—or as one who lived a life of love and grace in anticipation of Jesus’ return?

My hope

But Mary also shows a very human ability to learn and grow and remember. Even better than that, she shows a greater-than-human ability to quickly turn her eyes from her own immediate and fearful situation to the far more worthy view of the eternal God and His work in human history. Luke makes it a point to let us know that not much time passes between Mary’s shock at Gabriel’s announcement and her proclamation of God’s wisdom and grace. She might have gotten stuck early on in her conversation with Gabriel, but she didn’t stay there very long.

This is where I find hope for myself and for people everywhere. As long as I can learn and grow and remember even in these difficult times, even when my country seems to be irretrievably wrapped up in venomous disputes over minor questions, I can change for the better, and maybe be a part of changing this world for the better.

Like Mary, I can shift my mind from self-concern and worrying about the little details to the great good news of who God is and how He is fulfilling His promises for this planet. Just as Mary accepted her challenging role in God’s plan, I can live out my life following Jesus’ example by loving my enemies and drawing others to Him regardless of the cost.

 

 

(Note: This post was edited by the author on February 10, 2026.)