Why a manger?

The following "random thought" actually came about while teaching in Kid's Church just before Christmas many years ago. I don't think I've ever heard it before....in fact, I had never thought of it before the words began to come out of my mouth that Sunday morning. 

It was a typical Children's church service, a week or two before Christmas. I had a wonderful group of kids, most of whom I had known since they were born. These children knew quite well the story of Christmas, so making it real and new was quite a challenge. I had told the story and tried to paint a picture so that the children could experience the story anew. It was then that I asked the question - "Why was Jesus born in a stable?" Of course, the response was "Because there was no room in the inn." 

Then I asked a question even I hadn't considered before. "Why wasn't there room at the inn? Did God forget to make reservations?" Of course, we all laughed at such a ridiculous question. Obviously, the birth of Jesus being in a stable was no accident....but why would God allow/choose His Son to be born in a stable?

It's not like God didn't know when Jesus would be born. Yes, the city was crowded, but couldn't God have made room for this family in an inn somewhere? After all, He's God! He knew when the angel told Mary she'd have a son that they would be making this trip 9 months later! He could have made arrangements! I understand that there are many different views as to what this stable might have been, but it doesn't change the fact that a stable isn't a place for a baby to be born! That's where animals are born....animals like sheep. The kind of animal you'd use for a sacrifice.

And He came as the ultimate innocent sacrifice - a baby. Yet unlike any other baby ever born, He remained innocent and pure.

You know, every time I think about that, it causes a lump to rise in my throat. Jesus, the King of Kings was born in a place where sacrifices are born. He was laid in a manger - the place where the animals would go for food...The Bread of Life, Jesus - born as a sacrifice.

Since this was originally written, I've learned so much more about just how significant it was that Jesus was born in a stable and laid in a manger, and how it connects to sacrifice. When a lamb was born and intended to be used as a sacrifice, it was kept blemish-free. Since lambs are somewhat uncoordinated at birth, they could harm or mar themselves right after birth, so they were wrapped in swaddling clothes to keep them from harming themselves. The shepherds, truly odd visitors to mark the birth of the Son of God, would have known this. When they were told that this would serve as a sign to them, that they would find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger - they knew exactly what that meant. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around this. 

This Christmas, as you take time to read the original Christmas story, may your heart be filled with the knowledge and wonder of God's love for you, and may it once again fill you with awe. Merry Christmas.

John 1:29 "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"

6 things you may not have known about the birth of Jesus

Photo by Daniel Sandvik on Unsplash

I simply don't remember...

 

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a really hard time remembering things. It's not an age thing...I've been this way all my life (at least I think I have - I really don't remember.) I'm pretty sure it's an ADD thing.

It can be the little things that happen to us all...forgetting a name now and then. My husband learned early on in our marriage to introduce himself to whoever I was talking to because there was a really good chance I couldn't recall their name on demand. It could take hours, sometimes days before the gears would click and I could recall their name and where I knew them from. 

Add to this already rocky memory the fact that I've worked with children most of my life so there's their name, parent names, siblings name, their friends...you get the picture. I tell my students each year about the time I called my son Humphrey...Humphrey was our dog. They know if I will mess up my own son's name, there's a good chance I'll mess up theirs. They don't take offense. A lot of them just tell me to call them Humphrey so it's an in-class joke.

But it's not just names. Recently my husband and I came out of a store and he mentioned remembering when that location used to be the "Aim" store. I looked at him with a puzzled look and he said, "You remember. Aim for the best!" I shook my head - don't remember it. That's when he told me I'd worked there! Okay, my memory is far worse than I thought!

My sweet sister is always puzzled that I don't remember things from our growing up. I do remember a few things - the tree we climbed that had flowers that smelled like bananas. My friends and I would climb up and use cans with a string to talk to each other from tree to tree. We were secret agents. 

I remember being in my first grade play and having a mushroom costume that my mama had ingeniously fashioned from an old umbrella. Or the time my cute new one-piece pajamas were too long so she cut them off and hemmed them, only to discover she'd cut off one leg and one arm (hey, flowy was in style in the 70's!) We laughed and laughed and she cut off the other arm and did some amazing stitch work. I had the cutest hot pink pjs at the pajama party.

So see, I do remember some things. 

Some things I wish I could forget - an unkind word. Usually, it's that - an unkind word. My gift of gab gets me into trouble more often than I want to admit. Sometimes people overthink what I say and take it the wrong way. I should have a sign to carry around that says, "Take what I say at face value - there is no underlying message or intent. Don't spend a lot of time thinking about it - I obviously didn't take much time thinking before it left my mouth."

And that's where all this comes around to. Since I don't remember what I say, I'd better make sure that the words that come out of my mouth are sweet because, as they say, I may have to eat them.  How will I do that? As always, God's Word gives me the "how-to" to make sure I don't have to worry about what I say. It's right there in Psalm 19:14

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.

I don't have to remember what I say as long as I follow His Words. And one day, when I get to heaven, if I said anything worth remembering, I know it will have directed someone else to be there with me. And we can laugh and laugh for the foolishness of my words that God somehow redeemed and used for good...and hopefully, I'll even remember saying them.

Photo by Rob Mulally on Unsplash

Time to "Dead-head"

 

Today as I finished my morning run, I noticed that some of my flowers needed some attention. This is an actual picture of them. They had been beautiful, but now they needed to be what is known as "dead-headed" - at least that's what I know it as. It simply means that you go in and pinch off the dead blooms so the others can shine! In another few weeks, I'll need to prune the entire bush, but that's a blog for another time.

As I reached down to pinch off the dead blooms, I had to remind myself that I was not "being cruel" to my plant. (Yes, I have apologized to them as I pinched off each tiny dead flower...) Those brown buds had already had a chance to show off and be beautiful, but now it was time for others to have the same chance. 

As I pinched and pulled, I thought about how as I get older, I feel like my "bloom" has died and it's time to make room for the younger folks and my time has gone, and blah, blah, blah...you know, the same old poor old me tune. That's when it hit me. These blooms were all a part of the same plant! Now you can connect that to the body of Christ of course, but today it hit me - there was actually one plant...a single plant! 

Some are still wondering where I'm going with all this so I'll try and explain. I saw the dead blooms as things God had me do in the past that were wonderful and right. I enjoyed every second of that bloom! But now it's time to let the old works go so that the newer blooms can shine. That doesn't mean that this old plant's time has come to an end - it's just time to do some adjusting.

If you are by chance young and actually reading this, it may not make sense; but for those of use past the beginning plant stages, it might hit home. 

It's easy as we get older to feel like we're of no more use. The blooms that once worked so well have withered and just aren't needed anymore. Our days of raising kids or whatever we used to do are coming to an end if they haven't already. What we're missing is that there are new blooms that are ready to show out! We'll only really notice the new things that God has for us to do when we "snip" off the old. 

Now I'll be the first to admit, I have no idea what my new blooms are supposed to be, but I'm realizing that at 62, I'm not dead and I've got a good bit of life left to give to the Kingdom and those around me! So, it's time to pinch off the old - honestly, I'm asking God what all that includes - and recognize the new. I'm having to ask what that is as well. 

If you, too, find yourself in a season of dead-heading, feel free to share. Sometimes it helps to know we're not alone. And enjoy the new blooms...every single one.

“Forget about what’s happened;
    don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
    It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert,
    rivers in the badlands." Isaiah 43:18-19 (Msg)

He's just a coach...

This is a repeat of a blog I wrote years ago, but today I ran into an amazing "Coach" that a lot of people may have never heard of. He's a coach for thousands of students and teachers and if you've never heard of Move To Learn, you need to check it out! I wanted to republish in honor of Coach Calhoun. Thank you for inspiring this old teacher again.

I'd like to dedicate this blog to some of the greatest people I know. They are called coaches.

In the field of education, sometimes coaches get a bad rap. They are sometimes seen as lesser teachers, but I've got to give a shout out to some of the greatest teachers I know, and they go by the name "Coach".

This topic of "coaches" came up in a conversation just yesterday and I heard it put as well as I've ever heard it done. How many other people do we call by their job? Oh, there is Mr. President and Dr. So and So, but no one refers to me as Teacher Sumrall. You don't hear someone shout out, "Hey Secretary" or "Hi Engineer," but go out just about anywhere in town and when a young person (or one who at least ONCE was young) sees their coach, it's "Hey Coach!" It's a title of honor.

Think about it. Few other people have the impact on a young person's life as does their "coach." While they may have a lot of great teachers through the years, many will have one coach who imparts into their lives for 2, 3, 4, even 5 or more years. I know of at least one coach who mentored my son for 4 years, beginning in Jr. High when my son didn't really even know how to tackle. That young man helped develop my son's talent and looked out for him, always steering my boy in the way he should go...even when he wasn't listening to his mom! Thank you, Coach.

We even chose our current school location based on a coach. (That might sound strange coming from a teacher.) I asked around and discovered that while a lot of area coaches were great men, but one coach was described in this way. "Now Coach Wheat, that man builds character in his boys." No more had to be said. I know that football is just a game, but I also know that lessons learned out there on the field can be so much more if used correctly. My son isn't just learning plays, he's learning how to look out for others and be a man of character. 

My daughter had a coach for the short time she played basketball in Jr. High and she still refers to her as "Coach." I daresay Coach Missy had no idea the impact she made in my girl's life, but recently I saw a bunch of her former "players" coming together to honor her for being their coach in high school. Every young woman a stronger and better person (and player) thanks to her leadership.

There have been so many over the years who have poured into the lives of my children. Coach Langham had a way of making my daughter believe she could do anything (and was able to put up with her sarcastic wit like few others.) He also coached my son and gave advice that we still use today.

There are so many on the team of coaches that help mentor my son. Coach Bryant has the "joy" of not only teaching Jr. High but also serving as basketball coach and track coach, traveling miles and miles just to watch our kids run miles and miles. He uses all that time to offer guidance on life, respect, and honor along with the regular coaching duties. (As a mom, I appreciate this SO much!)

I had a "coach" in my own life as well. I wasn't very athletic, but when I was in high school, we had a coach who was in charge of FCA. I listened to his guidance over the years and his words shaped me more than he could have ever known. I still think about some of the lessons he taught and it has been almost 40 years since I sat in those lunchtime meetings.

Then there is my more recent "coach"...Coach Becky. How can someone look at a 48-year-old teacher coming out of the school at the end of the day and see potential? Or maybe it was just pity. Either way, I am so thankful that on that afternoon years ago she invited me to join them for a training run at the track. She has helped so many of us see ourselves as more than what we are to what we might be.

So the next time you catch someone saying, "He's just a coach," remember that they are so much more. These individuals are making a difference that few others do. They see our children (and us) at their best and at their worst, and they inspire these kids to work as a TEAM, something our country could use more of.

I am so thankful for these men and women that give time away from their own families to pour life and character into mine. You make a difference. 

If you have been blessed by a coach, feel free to share this post and "tag" them. I know I will.

1 Corinthians 9:25-27
Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.

Photo by Jeffrey F Lin on Unsplash

Seeing things in a different way...

Ever hear something that makes you look at things in a totally different way? That happened this morning.

I was happily going my merry way - okay, I was begrudgingly getting dressed on the last day of my Spring Break, when I started hearing things about the word correction. Now, I will be the first to admit that I am someone who does NOT like correction. It's not that I think I'm perfect, but no one likes to think they are downright wrong. That's when the random thoughts started turning.

It started with me thinking about all the times I had corrected students' work. I would literally spend hours and hours pouring over essays, writing comments, writing questions, writing encouragement - all in an effort to make the writers' work better. Not saying they were wrong, but really trying to help them be clear with their ideas. I would have a few that would read the things I had written and come to me to work on their writing. Those were the precious few...more often I would encounter - "So what is my grade?" or even worse, those that would argue with me as if I had no right to think their writing was anything other than perfect. (Have you ever read a 6th grader's writing - it almost always has potential, but it is rarely perfect.) After a while, I grew weary of trying only to be met with indifference or worse, defiance. I guess when it comes to writing, it's difficult to see correction as an attempt to make things better.

I never had that problem when it came to running. I was blessed to have a coach who saw in me something I could not and worked to bring it out. She would watch my running style and see what I was doing that was keeping me from becoming the runner she believed I could be. She would correct my posture, even my speed when I would try to go too fast, knowing I would burn myself out before I reached my potential. For some reason, I didn't see correction as a bad thing then. She was always right - able to see what I could not and using the experience I did not have.

My thoughts then moved to my son when he first started playing football. The first time he tried to tackle another player, he quickly learned that he needed to improve. He was given the directive to tackle a boy we later called, "the bowling ball with legs" and immediately bounced back from the would-be tackle onto his rear. He needed correction/instruction on his form. Thankfully he listened (being knocked back onto your rear has a way of doing that,) and he became quite the force to be reckoned with on the football field. Rarely did he try a tackle that didn't stop the opponent in his tracks and rarely was he successfully brought down by fewer than 3 or 4 players working together. Thinking about his personality now, I realize how thankful I am that God placed people in his life that he will listen to...because like most young men, he's almost always certain that he is right.

All these thoughts came together to help me see that I've been thinking of correction incorrectly all these years. (Yes, I see that wordplay.) Correction is not simply showing you where you wrong, but it is showing you how you can be better. It is not harsh, it is in fact loving. The Bible even says that. 

Hebrews 12 puts it this way, "My dear child, don’t shrug off God’s discipline,

    but don’t be crushed by it either.
It’s the child he loves that he disciplines;
    the child he embraces, he also corrects.

God is educating you; that’s why you must never drop out. He’s treating you as dear children. This trouble you’re in isn’t punishment; it’s training, the normal experience of children. Only irresponsible parents leave children to fend for themselves. Would you prefer an irresponsible God?"

In Proverbs 15 it's put this way, 

"Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise."

Finally, in searching for a picture for today's post, I found the one with the glasses. Hmmm, I wear "corrective lenses" - specifically to help me see far away. I don't think of them as punishment, but rather as help. Without them, I wouldn't be able to do a lot of things I take for granted! Again, a positive "point of view" on "correction." 

Now, being the person I am, I have to admit these thoughts scare me. Usually, something like this is preparing me for what is to come. I don't know that I can say I look forward to it, but hopefully, I will be able to see it for what it is...the Lord isn't finished with me yet and He's working on making me better equipped for His purpose.

Just a few random thoughts on the last day of Spring Break...

Photo by Tim J on Unsplash

Let the Truth be told...

 It's 2:30 in the morning and I just woke up from a sound sleep. I've always heard that if that happens, God is waking you to pray.

To be honest, I didn't want to. My prayers lately feel weak and ineffective, but I started to pray anyway...for my kids, finances, my family, whatever came to mind. That's when a phrase started rolling around in my head. It's based on my one word/phrase for the year. Truth.

Seems like it's getting harder and harder to find truth in our world. Somewhere along the way, people believed the lie that TRUTH is relative - different for everyone. But if it's subjective, then how can it be Truth? I understand that everyone can have an experience that is true for them, but that's not the same as Truth with a capital T.

I won't make this long - I'm honestly hoping to go back to sleep, but I felt like I HAD to write this down...we'll see where it goes.

I know for the past year I have felt lied to and outside of my family and closest friends, have felt like I didn't know who to trust anymore. My government, the media, you know - those that seem to run things and often have the loudest voices. But it's time to start praying for the TRUTH to be told. It's time to embrace Truth and for that to happen, we have got to first let go of the lies. Our arms are full of them - lies we tell ourselves, lies we tell others, lies that run our lives. And it's time to say enough.

It's time to let go of all the lies and embrace, hold tight, to the truth.

How does that happen? I'm not sure...but I do know it begins with me. It begins with me being honest with myself and those around me. No little fibs as the kids call them - let's call them what they are. Lies - from the father of lies. They creep in quietly and set up root and before you know it, they try to crowd out the truth. They masquerade as Truth, but they are merely experiences or feelings - both of which can lie to us.

So...starting now, I'm letting go of the lies and I'm embracing Truth. I will do my best to make my words honest and true in every situation both to myself and others. I know I don't have to be harsh, in fact, I should speak the truth in love...that means with kindness, not judgment. I'm in no position to judge.

I'm not sure what this will look like, but I know it's right. And that is my middle of the night prayer that I am sharing.

Lord, 

Bring the Truth to the surface and help us embrace that which is True, Honest, and Just.

Philippians 4:8 KJV

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Amen...and good night.

P.S. In searching for a photo to use with this blog, I was struck by how many showed a Bible as a picture of Truth...thought I'd share...

Bible Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

Truth Photo by Michael Carruth on Unsplash

Write that I...

It's that time of year. Time to clear out "stuff" that you've kept too long. Time to simplify. That's what I spent this afternoon doing. I found a couple of old notebooks that I'd written in - for now I'll focus on one. 

I had the privilege of attending the TOLI program for Holocaust Studies a few years ago and I found my notebook from that study. Inside were two poems - one personal and one written in response to a video of Irving Roth. It was an assignment that could be used in the classroom - but I'll share mine here. Why? Because I don't want them to stay inside that notebook and never be shared, especially the one written in response to Irving Roth's story.

Write that I...(personal poem - I think I was thinking of my kids when I wrote this)

When you write my story,

        write that I brought hope.

Write that I saw beauty in the dark places

        and that I helped you see it too.

Write that I wanted to see you walk with God

        in ways that I could only imagine.

That I believed in you and His purpose in you.

        Write that I trusted Him to guide you 

            because I knew I would fail - and yet still I tried.

Write that I loved you more than life.

Now for the one written in response to Irving Roth's story. He is a Holocaust survivor. (Here's a link to one version on Youtube - Irving Roth)

Write that I...

Write that I was a child - just a child.

I loved to run and play and life was good

        oh so good.

The whole world was my oyster - what could possibly go wrong?

        The Nazi's - that's what could go wrong.

Write that it started slowly - I don't think anyone saw -

        Didn't anyone see?

They took away our humanity.

At the park - Jews and dogs not allowed?

Don't go out at night - it's for my own safety?

Wear this star - so that all might know me.

        Don't you mean so that they might forget my name?

Write that they took my friends and left us to wonder where they had gone.

They forced us to run to safety - only no place was really safe.

Only a few would stand up for us - the rest just turned away.

        Turned us over.

            Turned and pretended it was not their concern.

After all - we were no more than animals with stars by now. 

        We didn't even have a name.

Write that I was found and taken away - like a dog to the pound.

My grandparents were "cared for" and taken to the showers, 

        but that meant I never saw them again.

The final blow - I am a number now. Do they expect me to forget my own name?

There is not hope - until...

One man - a prisoner like me - 

        brought thought back into our reach. 

The wires faded away and for a moment we were free.

Only a moment, for as far as I could see, the world has forgotten -

        gone blind to what anyone can see - lost its morality.

Write that I didn't believe in miracles anymore - 

        but thank God the miracles still hadn't given up on me.

Write that a few looked up to see

        and because of them, I lived to tell you

                look up and see.