Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC:

Unfermented grape juice is a bland and pleasant drink, especially on a warm afternoon mixed half-and-half with ginger ale. It is a ghastly symbol of the life blood of Jesus Christ, especially when served in individual antiseptic, thimble-sized glasses.

Wine is booze, which means it is dangerous and drunk-making. It makes the timid brave and the reserved amorous. It loosens the tongue and breaks the ice, especially when served in a loving cup. It kills germs. As symbols go, it is a rather splendid one. [Totally ripped off from Michael Hyatt.]

Brian "Head" Welch, Save Me From Myself:

All of the man-made religion crap in this world has to die. Whether it's Christian man-made religion crap or some other man-made religion crap, it all has to die. It must grieve God's heart when he sees Christians fighting about whose doctrine is right; he doesn't see denominations, he sees one big glorious bride. When Christians argue about doctrinal issues, all he sees is carnal people acting like children. All that prideful, controlling religious crap is what drives young people away from churches, and it has to go. Much of the world's population is under the age of eighteen, and we have to bring the love of Christ to them without all this controlling crap going on. Because, where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom."

The Prodigal Jon:

Forgiveness is the thing I ask for the most. In my head maybe I know that God’s forgiveness is eternal and inexhaustible but in my heart I feel like he’s going to run out of them. That he’s got a limited supply. And I’m burning them up, one by one, sin by sin. Boy, have I felt this way, too. (Yes, I know the blog post is over a year old, but I just put the feed into my RSS reader and am reading the old entries still in the feed.)

Tony Woodlief:

I spent a good portion of my time in a small chapel, learning prayers that preceded the Roman Catholic Church. I came with a great weight on my bones, a weight that overwhelmed me in that tiny chapel. I fell to my knees there, and prayed with quivering shoulders and trembling hands, done in by grief over the past, fear of the future, the knowing that this present ground is sand, that my feet must soon move forward or backward. Each way bears a cost; one of the great lies of men is that the path can be traveled without suffering. Another great lie is that we can stand still and read books and let our paltry knowledge carry us into the arms of God. We have to walk, with heavy, stumbling feet.

[...]

It’s easy to see why so many of us -- Christians and pagans alike -- spend lifetimes running from the living God, our hands stopping our ears, our mouths babbling prayers or blasphemies, all in an effort to avoid the great silence where God speaks to man. That silence is a fearful place, but there is love there, the great love of a parent. There is mercy too, and strength for the uncompleted race.

Andrée Seu, "Alice's battle":

You have never seen a struggle like Alice's struggle against joy. The doubting Narnian dwarfs were preemptively miserable, and so is Alice. The girlfriends' counsel of lowered expectations mounts a new offensive in her mind. (There is no force so powerful as error in a godly person's mouth.) But just as Alice starts to sink again, the Spirit counters with this coup de grace:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding" (Proverbs 3:5).

Alice perceives in a hot instant that this is not only where the present battle is joined, but where every battle is joined—against the counsel of one's saintliest friend, against the received wisdom of one's generation, against the carnal instinct to protect oneself. There are only ever these two—the Word of the Lord; your own understanding.

It dawns on Alice that at any given moment of the day she has a choice of which thoughts she may entertain—those of her friends and "her own understanding," or the word of the Lord. All that is not the latter is the former, no matter how sweetly wrapped.

Glenn Beck, in the epilogue of The Christmas Sweater:

My mom gave me the sweater, but the greatest gift was given to all of us by a loving Father in Heaven. It is the only true gift ever given to all and yet opened or appreciated by so few. It is the gift of redemption and atonement, and it sits on the top shelf, largely untouched, in the closets of our soul.

At Christmas we celebrate the birth of the Christ child, but by doing so, sometimes we miss the real meaning of the season. It is what that infant, boy, and then perfect man did at the end of His ministry that makes the birth so special.

Without His death, the birth is meaningless.

I had read somewhere a brief bit of Brian Welch's acceptance of Christ, but his testimony for I Am Second is powerful stuff.

[Wave of the phin to Evan Courtney.]

Mark Hall:

"Praying about the future? Take heart! God is already there. He's standing at the end of our lives looking back on all our days."

"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man." --Rabindranath Tagore [Via A Child Chosen.]

Tony Woodlief:

Those other issues certainly affect a country's safety, prosperity, and greatness. But I've come to believe that a nation that tolerates destruction of innocents deserves neither safety nor prosperity nor greatness. We've descended into barbarism, and it poisons how we treat the elderly, the incapacitated, even ourselves. We shouldn't be surprised, having made life a utilitarian calculation, that more and more humans become inconvenient.

It's certainly true that there are other issues that ought to concern Christians, like the sanctity of marriage, and how we treat the mentally ill, the elderly, and children who have been born. But abortion is, in my view, the touchstone. Get this one wrong and your moral compass can guide you in nothing else.

Tony Woodlief, with words I need to take heed of:

Cast aside what you think you know is right, the church marquee urges, and consider the God-breathed Word. Give yourself over to it and these seemingly large things--tax rates, economic growth, wars, and rumors of wars--will diminish. Meanwhile, those seemingly small things--the anger in our hearts when we, say, confront someone whose ideology we dislike or the fact that we find it so much easier to spend time with those we like rather than those who need us--will become grievous to our spirits.

This is the Word that cuts through every heart, through the very heart of darkness, illuminating the world as it is and will be. Beside it every politician ever born is remarkably inconsequential. Our business on Election Day is brief, and regardless of who wins our work remains the same--seeking and serving the lost, losing our own lives in the doing, and clinging to the Cross that shatters nations, tribes, and creeds.

"Who is in the White House is not as important as Who is on the White Throne." --Stewart Briscoe [Via Mike.]

Dr. Wess Stafford, President and CEO of Compassion:

"The cure to cancer might be in the slums of Kenya or Indonesia." In other words, you don't know what the children of today are capable of tomorrow, how God may use someone like me, someone like you, now to change the lives of scores, hundreds, thousands, possibly millions, years from now, just because we help change the life of one child today. Please consider sponsoring a child.

Neal Campbell:

"The last thing Jesus needs is the State. Stupid Christians like James Dobson and Pat Roberton like D.C. more than grace ... sad."

In preparation for the mission trip I'm going on next week to build houses in Juarez, Mexico, I picked up a Panama Jack cowboy hat at Wal-Mart earlier this evening for a mere ten dollars.

Click on the photo to see a larger version.

The Juarez trip can be tough on gear (the boots I wore last year won't be making a return trip), but I figure for ten bucks, I won't worry if the hat doesn't go another year. (And yes, a backup hat will be packed, just in case.)

Josh Harris:

Moments like this are reminders for me that the songs and trappings of Christian culture are not the hope of the world--Jesus is! We need to make him known. We need to love and seek to serve the world around us through prayer, through faithful evangelism, and through Christ-like service of those in need. Our goal is not building a more air-tight evangelical bubble. Neither should our goal be hoping that our subculture will burst out into the broader culture to great acclaim.

Instead, our goal should be to proclaim Christ and him crucified to the people we go to the school with, work with, and live next door to. Our goal should be to preach the gospel and live lives worthy of that gospel. Our goal should be to use our gifts in every sector of society so that God is glorified.

Maury McCown:

[A]nother way I'm convinced He exists and loves us -- on the most base of levels -- is that He hasn't simply wiped us off the face of the earth. I don't struggle with the whole "why does God let bad things happen" -- that's simple to dismiss, and maybe I will here one day. What I'm getting at is that He has such enormous self-control -- if I were Him, there would only be a scant few humans left on the planet.

It's one of two things: He loves as much as He says He does, or He doesn't give a rat's behind about us. With much thanks I know wholeheartedly that the latter isn't true, so once again I'm amazed at how patient God is with us, and how He loves us, though we pain Him so.

Brent McKinney, A Few Thoughts On Jeremiah:

I think absolutes exist. In other words, if we "miss the mark," there's an implication that there's a mark to hit. A truth that is "right" and to wander away from that is, by implication, "wrong."

I think like the "1d1" definition regarding sin, that there's a "way" to go and to deviate from that--wander away-- is somehow tied to your identity as a human being. That we "miss" or "lose" our very selves. My guess is that we're created in the image of God Himself, and to wander away from that...or get lost...is actually a denial of who we are and what we're about.

I think that most followers of God have no idea who they are and what they're about.

I think that most followers of God, if they knew who they are and what they're about (and, in order to get that we would have to know God and what He's about) would take sin a great deal more seriously than we do. As usual, when Brent's thinking deep thoughts, the entire thing is really good.

The following is excerpted from Max Lucado's An Angel's Story*, and was the 12/23/07 e-mail from MaxLucado.com, which anyone can sign up to receive. Max and his crew are encouraging subscribers to share this and the other excerpts with their friends, so here I am, sharing it with my readers.* We were a wreath of Light around the stable, a necklace of diamonds around the structure. Every angel had been called from his post for the coming, even Michael. None doubted God would, but none knew how He could, fulfill His promise. "I've heated the water!" "No need to yell, Joseph, I hear you fine." Mary would have heard had Joseph whispered. The stable was even smaller than Joseph had imagined but the innkeeper was right--it was clean. I started to clear out the sheep and cow, but Michael stopped me. "The Father wants all of creation to witness the moment." Mary cried out and gripped Joseph's arm with one hand and a feed trough with the other. The thrust in her abdomen lifted her back, and she leaned forward. "Is it time?" Joseph asked. She shot back a glance, and he had his answer. Within moments the Awaited One was born. I was privileged to have a position close to the couple, only a step behind Michael. We both gazed into the wrinkled face of the infant. Joseph had placed hay in a feed trough, giving Jesus His first bed. All of God was in the infant. Light encircled His face and radiated from His tiny hands. The very glory I had witnessed in His throne room now burst through His skin. I felt we should sing but did not know what. We had no song. We had no verse. We had never seen the sight of God in a baby. When God had made a star, our words had roared. When He had delivered His servants, our tongues had flown with praise. Before His throne, our songs never ended. But what do you sing to God in a feed trough? In that moment a wonderful thing happened. As we looked at the baby Jesus, the darkness lifted. Not the darkness of the night, but the darkness of the mystery. Heaven's enlightenment engulfed the legions. Our minds were filled with the Truth we had never before known. We became aware for the first time of the Father's plan to rescue those who bear His name. "Joy to the world! The Lord is come! Let earth receive her King! Let every heart, prepare Him room! Heaven and nature sing!"

The following landed in ye olde e-mail inbox earlier today, penned by talk radio host Laura Ingraham: Megan pulled a three-ring binder out of her bag and showed me a photograph of herself and her husband. Young--they're both 21--with big smiles on their faces and obviously wildly in love. "That's what he looked like," she said with a somber face, "He was such a cutie-pie, always buying me little stuffed animals and writing the most thoughtful notes the entire time he was in Iraq." Then she showed me the photo of her husband receiving the Purple Heart on Wednesday from President Bush at Bethesda Naval Medical Center. As President Bush pinned the medal on Mike, he lay unconscious in the ICU, having suffered a traumatic brain injury caused by a piece of shrapnel that pierced his temple. "This is my Mike now," she said, rubbing her eyes. He is completely blind and to alleviate a terrible cranial pressure build-up, doctors had to remove the front of his skull. Since being wounded several months ago, Mike has never regained consciousness and suffers from terrible seizures. "That's my guy," she repeated, before she went on to tell me about how they met and fell in love. For whatever reason, I kept thinking about the fact that some person somewhere carefully assembled the IED that would eventually maim Mike and many others. They are often packed with nails, hunks of lead and screws to cause maxim human suffering. When they explode, the contents rip through flesh and bones, shattering countless dreams in the process. How to comprehend this level of evil and the physical and emotional agony it causes? This young woman and her husband should be out buying their first Christmas tree together, going to parties, raising a glass to their future. When I asked what she was doing for the holiday she said, "I'll be here with Mike. I would never want him to be alone on Christmas." They had been married for about three months when Mike was wounded. In these days before Christmas, Megan and other military wives and moms gave me a precious gift. They reminded me that true love requires sacrifice--sometimes seemingly unbearable, heart-wrenching sacrifice. They are living out their love in big and small ways. Many have moved thousands of miles to relocate to the hospitals where their husbands, wives, sons, and daughters are being treated. This takes an enormous emotional and financial toll, yet they do it for love. When they are not at the hospital bedsides of their wounded warriors, they sit for hours a day in waiting rooms across the United States, hoping for good news--or at least no more bad news. They pray with each other, cry with each other, and yes, even manage to laugh with each other as they hope for a day when they can return to "normal life." Yet for the families of our most seriously injured troops, they know they will have to get used to a "new normal," much different from the life they knew before. As we are about to celebrate Christmas spending time with our families and friends, let us all do our best to live up to the true spirit of this season--and make it a time filled with love, faith, gratitude, hope, charity, and, yes, let's try for some peace on earth. Let us remember the military families and our wounded heroes who will spend this Christmas at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Brooke Army Medical Center, Bethesda Naval Medical Center and other medical facilities across the nation. As we rush around stressed out because we "haven't found the perfect gift" for so-and-so, these families hope and pray for gifts that cannot be wrapped up: a hand that squeezes back, a smile, the first step on a new prosthesis, or a positive medical report. They need our prayers and support at Christmas and every day. Please give what you can to any of the wonderful organizations that support our bravest and their families. Merry Christmas.

The following is excerpted from Max Lucado's An Angel's Story*, and was the 12/20/07 e-mail from MaxLucado.com, which anyone can sign up to receive. Max and his crew are encouraging subscribers to share this and the other excerpts with their friends, so here I am, sharing it with my readers.* The King walked over and reached for the book. He turned it toward Lucifer and commanded, "Come, Deceiver, read the name of the One who will call your bluff. Read the name of the One who will storm your gates." Satan rose slowly off his haunches. Like a wary wolf, he walked a wide circle toward the desk until he stood before the volume and read the word: "Immanuel?" he muttered to himself, then spoke in a tone of disbelief. "God with us?" For the first time the hooded head turned squarely toward the face of the Father. "No. Not even You would do that. Not even You would go so far." "You've never believed me, Satan." "But Immanuel? The plan is bizarre! You don't know what it's like on Earth! You don't know how dark I've made it. It's putrid. It's evil. Its..." "IT IS MINE," proclaimed the King. "AND I WILL RECLAIM WHAT IS MINE. I WILL BECOME FLESH. I WILL FEEL WHAT MY CREATURES FEEL. I WILL SEE WHAT THEY SEE." "But what of their sin?" "I will bring mercy." "What of their death?" "I will give life." Satan stood speechless. God spoke, "I love my children. Love does not take away the beloved's freedom. But love takes away fear. And Immanuel will leave behind a tribe of fearless children. They will not fear you or your hell." Satan stepped back at the thought. His retort was childish. "Th-th-they will too!" "I will take away all sin. I will take away death. Without sin and without death, you have no power." Around and around in a circle Satan paced, clenching and unclenching his wiry fingers. When he finally stopped, he asked a question that even I was thinking. "Why? Why would You do this?" The Father’s voice was deep and soft. "Because I love them."

I received this e-mail from a neighbor. It's one of those things where you read their answers, then fill in your own and pass it on to the people you'd like to hear back from. Seeing as how while most of you will be getting ready for work or what-have-you this morning while I'm undergoing prep for surgery to get "unscrewed", I won't be in much of a blogging mood, and thought I'd leave this here for you to enjoy. Please feel free to leave your own answers in the comments, or post to your own blog and link to it in the comments. Merry Christmas! Welcome to the 2007 Holiday Edition of Getting to Know Your Friends! You know the drill. Don't be a scrooge! Fill it out, pass it on, blah blah blah. I would love to hear your answers. 1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? This time of year, I have to go with the nog. I can get hot chocolate any time. 2. Does Santa wrap the presents or just sit them under the tree? Growing up, Santa just left stuff under the tree, or on the coach next to the tree, etc. Since then, he seems to have upgraded his process, as the gifts he leaves are now wrapped. 3. Colored or white lights? I prefer white, though I do enjoy the colored lights when they're done well. 4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope. I'm already kissing the person I want to kiss the most. 5. When do you put your decorations up? We have no hard and fast rules on this one. The tree just went up this weekend, and the lights were put on last night. 6. What is your favorite holiday dish? Can I go with the nog again? 7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child? The older gentlemen, Mr. Gridley, who lived next door to my grandparents, would dress as Santa and come over to hand out our presents when we did Christmas at their house. As a child, having Santa right there, handing you the presents he'd brought all the way from the North Pole? Incredible. 8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I'd have to check with my folks, but it was likely somewhere around ten or eleven years of age. I overheard some other boys talking about, and I confronted my parents with the information. They told me the truth, but swore me to secrecy, as my sister, five years younger than I, still believed. 9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? That usually depends on where we might be, but generally, yes. 10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? White lights, with ornaments from my childhood, plus some that were gifts from my mother-in-law, my mom, and my grandmothers. They're pretty much all personal momentos of one sort or another. No tinsel or garland. Pretty simple, the way we like it. 11. Snow: Love it or hate it? Love it, just because, growing up in south Louisiana, and now living in north Texas, we don't see snow often. 12. Can you ice skate? Nope. Heck, I barely remember how to roller skate! 13. Do you remember your favorite gift? So many were favorites at so many different times of my life, I really couldn't say. 14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? Spending time with the family. It's great to see Christmas through the eyes of a child--my son--once again. 15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? A tie between my grandmother's chocolate pie, and my grandmother's lemon pie. The tie is always broken by having a slice of each. 16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Watching my son open his presents on Christmas morning. 17. What is on top of your tree? An angel. 18. Which do you like best giving or receiving? Definitely the giving, though I won't lie and say the receiving--especially when it's something from my carefully assembled wish list--comes in a close second. Hey, at least I'm honest. 19. What is your favorite Christmas song? I'm a sucker for a well done "What Child is This?", and I also love "Joy To The World" and "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing". 20. Do you like candy canes? To eat? Not really, but I don't mind them otherwise. 21. What is your favorite Christmas movie? Technically not a movie, but I love "A Charlie Brown Christmas"

Craig Groeschel:

Non-believers should feel more loved by the church than by any institution in the world. Boy, but do I blow this one on a consistent basis...

So, what am I thankful for this year....? My wife. Those who know me know that she has to put up with a lot on a regular basis. However, when I injured my left foot earlier this year, a ton of extra stuff fell to her to take care of, and she's been absolutely wonderful. I love you, sweetheart. The little phisch. Our little man is a never-ending source of joy--and frustration, but that's just part of parenting. That smile of his just lights me up any time, and his laugh is the best sound I've ever heard. He's a gas to play with, and it never ceases to amaze me when I see his mind at work on something. Being his dad is the greatest job I could ever have, and has given me a larger appreciation of the love my own parents have for me. My folks. I had a perfectly normal childhood. My parents, while strict at times, were never abusive in any manner, and I always knew I was loved. I grew up in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, with lots of other kids my age. My folks provided everything I needed, and more. They made sure I went to college without incurring a large financial debt. Since I've left the nest, they've been a source of encouragement and help in ways I never imagined. My family. My sister, my grandmothers, my aunts, uncles, and cousins whom I'm lucky to see even once a year. We may not all talk often, and see one another even less, but it's nice to know that when we do get together, after a few minutes of catching up, it's pretty much just picking up from wherever we last left off. My life would be more shallow without them. My friends. I have friends in this nation from coast to coast, and from the far north of the 48 states down to their southernmost. I am blessed to have quite a few right here in my little corner of the world, and more in many other corners. You have all enriched me in some way, and I'm thankful to know you. The men and women of the United States armed forces. I'm proud to count members from the prior category in this one as well. Thank you all for your tireless sacrifice on behalf of the rest of us. You are never far from our thoughts and prayers. May those of you in the line of fire return home safely upon the successful completion of your mission. In the mean time, watch your six, and God bless. God. You have made all things possible. You have blessed me in ways far beyond my understanding and worth. You offered Your own Son in my place, so that I might have a place in Your kingdom forever. I am humbled that You, the Creator of all things, would deign to know the number of hairs on my head, much less want to be my friend. All of the above things for which I am thankful are gifts from You, and I am eternally grateful.