The anvil and the angel

Last week, I shared with you some tree signs at a park near my house.

At first, someone tucked a little angel under a tree.

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Several days—or maybe a week or two later (who can keep track right now?)—the angel found a more prominent home.

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I saw the angel glinting in the setting sun, sitting atop an anvil on a monument in the park. For the first time, I wondered why an anvil topped the monument.

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One side of the memorial held the answer:

“God forges us on an anvil of adversity for a purpose known only to Him. That is the way He prepares us for life.” – JE Broyhill

Wow, I thought, an anvil of adversity. I think most of us can relate to that statement more now than ever, to that feeling of being in a hard place where we don’t want to be. Wouldn’t it feel better to slide right off that anvil and go about life as we knew it before COVID-19?

But perhaps we can look at that bright angel atop the anvil and think of ways God is with us, preparing us for life after the virus. I’m glad the angel is there. It’s a reminder that the anvil isn’t the final answer.

Maybe that little angel can help us feel less alone. And maybe it can be the spark, the encouragement we need to find ways to come through this experience kinder, more willing to help others, more ready for whatever God has planned for us.

If you’d like support for the adversity you’re facing now, I’d be honored to lift you up in prayer. Just leave your request in the comments below. Be well, my friends.

To my nephew and niece-in-law, three years later

Three years ago, I wrote down some marriage advice for my nephew and his bride. It turned out to be one of my most visited posts.

My nephew and niece-in-law are still happy three years later, and though I don’t think it has anything to do with my advice, I wanted to share the post with you again today. After all, we’re in the midst of wedding season, and perhaps your nephew/niece/daughter/son is set to marry soon, and you’d like some ideas of what to share with the happy couple. So here it is again. If you think I left anything out, please add your own nuggets of marital wisdom in the comments at the end of the post.


My dear nephew and his bride, Continue reading

An alternative to going dark

Friday brings a change to the White House, a power shift in Washington. I hope—whether you’ll be commiserating with family and friends, celebrating, or marching in protest—that you’ll take a few moments first to ponder darkness and light, contempt and compassion, condemnation and grace.

I’ve seen buzz growing around the idea of going dark on Facebook this Friday by posting a completely black rectangle where your cover photo would normally be. I confess the idea has some appeal to me, but I also know I have to carefully guard my own soul and heart and mind from settling in with dark thoughts and fears.

Church this past Sunday offered a scripture reading that reminded me of an essential truth to cling to in the days and weeks and months ahead. God calls each of us to reflect God’s light to others:

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I will also make You a light of the nations, that My salvation may reach to the end of the earth. — Isaiah 49:6

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Red-letter words for dark days

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. — Matthew 5:4

I’ve been reading through the red-letter words of the Bible this morning and listening to a filibuster in the U.S. senate chambers on gun-reform laws. Less than a year ago, I wrote a similar post for a similar reason: a gunman went into a sanctuary and killed minorities he hated. I am heartsick to be here again with another list of names.

I had planned a very different post today, but it will wait. Life and death interrupt us all in ways we never anticipate, in events that horrify us and cause us to pause. Some days, “business as usual” just feels wrong.

Today, I share the same picture as last year and a different, too-long list.

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Last year’s nine candles. Today, 49 more names.

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Healing in the Hiding Place

There are some books you shouldn’t read in public unless you don’t mind crying out your eyeballs in front of strangers. Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place is one of those books.

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Four weeks ago, I invited you to join me in reading The Hiding Place and planned to read it myself on a cross-country flight. Even the first two chapters forced me to stifle tears, and I only dared read part of it on the plane, stopping after I pressed against the window to sob quietly. I saved the rest of the book for home, reading it only in daytime, as if the only way my heart could absorb what I was reading was to have the sunlight as company for the dark pages.

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