For almost 4 years I had the privilege & challenge of writing a weekly editorial for The Lookout, a Christian living & devotional magazine. As I ended my tenure there, the timing fell on a series we developed about Jesus' encounters with people and what we can learn from his actions and words. I enjoyed writing these last editorials. I hope you enjoy reading them. Others in this series: round 2, round 3, and round 4.

This week we begin a four-part series looking at four different people (or groups of people) Jesus encountered. Each Scripture text comes from the book of John. As I have discovered before in this job as editor, when I read what our authors create, I gain new perspective on familiar stories.

For instance, how easily do you rattle off John 3:16? It’s the first verse many of us memorized as kids; we’ve heard it so many times by now it may have lost meaning. But let’s take time this week to look at the entire John 3 scenario anew:

A Pharisee, a member of a group who openly debated and ridiculed a new rabbi in town, sensed there was more to Jesus than mere teacher. Possibly fearing for his reputation, Nicodemus crept out into the night to seek an audience with this man of God. Jesus spoke salvific words about newness and life and a redemption no one could yet fathom; he called Nicodemus into the light.

Isn’t this story indicative of us all? We’re there in the dark, can’t sleep, thinking too much about the unknown, grappling with our current situation. There’s got to be more that we haven’t figured out yet. We come up with a plan to seek out the truth, perhaps a little bit on the sly to protect our reputation. We must know—is this Jesus everything he claims to be? Or is he another dead end, false hope masquerading, mere disappointment?

Yet when we encounter Jesus, he opens his heart and pours into our own. His words hold power, and they never fail. Through time, through testing, through mountains and valleys, he remains consistent.

He brings us into the light.

There’s all kinds of darkness we can wander into, wallow in, and weep through in fear and loneliness. But we don’t have to stay there. We have one who offers hope, who offers salvation, who offers to shine a light, illuminating all that keeps us isolated.

Go ahead. Take a step. Live by his truth and come into the light (John 3:21).

Originally published on July 23, 2017 in The Lookout.

I know it's coming. Most of the time it's out of mind, but then, seemingly from nowhere, a sudden chill goes down my spine. I turn my head and a shadow skirts out of view. Though I can't see it, I know it's there, lurking. Sometimes in the still dark of night, I feel it creep up behind me, breath on the back of my neck. But there's nothing I can do to stop its approach.

The big 4-0. 

OK, so I have a flair for the dramatic. I promise I'm not too worried about this new round number that will arrive a few weeks from now. In fact, since 4 is my favorite number, I already feel a fondness for this coming decade. 

I'm generally not one to think much about age. Sure, there have been a few key birthdays I anticipated. When I turned 16 I nervously began figuring out how to drive. When I turned 21, I looked forward to the server asking me for ID when I ordered a drink. (I didn't even like the taste of what I got, but it was supposed to be a thrill, you know?)

Even 30 didn't shake up my world too badly. Steve even threw me a surprise party. He concocted an event, complete with a faked invitation to tour a historical mansion with the Cincinnati Preservation Association. We got all dressed up but instead ended up at our church, where friends and family awaited me, all wearing fancy attire. He'd created an entire formal affair around a new dress I adored. A party themed around my outfit? What a husband! (Yet I'd still like to go tour that mansion someday.)

That said, I haven't freaked out (yet) that I'm turning 40 soon. Steve is the one who keeps bringing it up, asking how I feel. Well, I feel pretty youthful in spirit. Though some days, as I'm having new aches and pains I haven't felt before, perhaps this middle age nomenclature is feeling more apropos.

But I hear 40 is the new ___? People always have something to compare ages to. I found several funny ones online. But I like this one: 40 is the new 40. Yes, I'm good with that. I'll reclaim it, redefine it, make it my own. 

So bring it on, 40. I'm ready for you.

See also Wisdom Through the Ages, part 1 and part 2.

Photo by Ksenia Kudelkina on Unsplash

I hugged each of the six people leaving our house. As I closed the door behind them, I turned to my husband with a smile. "That was a wonderful afternoon."

From the outside it may have seemed an odd group for Steve and I to be a part of. These folks were a couple of decades older than us, most retired. We weren't related in any way, didn't live near one another. What drew us together was a family on the other side of the globe who needed our support, who waved at us as we huddled around a computer screen just a few hours earlier.

We are the board of Christian Mission for Myanmar. 

A board meeting sounds about as fun as its name. I can feel intimidated at these because I run the finances, yet I have very little experience evaluating or comparing numbers. I simply receive the money, keep track of the donating parties, send receipts. Oh, and I wire money regularly to a third-world country, which has gotten me permanently banned from using Western Union. (I'm such a rebel.)

But as much as I could feel unease by my lack of expertise, I came away from the day with a different feeling: inspiration. The stories shared as we broke bread together gave me a new perspective. These couples around my table had been to places I'd never heard of. They'd served the Kingdom in ways I hadn't imagined. And they are all determined to go above and beyond to help a family who lives a world away—all so that the family can continue sharing God's love in their home country of Myanmar. 

I've gotten to know these brothers and sisters in Christ over the past couple of years. Their consistent faith through tears of sorrow and tears of joy has given me strength. I am grateful we are now connected to one another. 

I'm fascinated by the people God brings into my path. This is just one example of the ways God adds new pieces to the puzzle of my life. Up close at times it seems like jumbled confusion, and the best I can do is cling to the interlocking pieces around me. But I step back and look at the beautiful picture He is forming. There is purpose and meaning I haven't yet discovered. 

See also Wisdom Through the Ages, part 1 and part 3.

Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster on Unsplash