In A Charlie Brown Christmas, the titular character famously laments the true meaning of Christmas has been lost in a sea of commercialization, materialism and cynicism.

Just when he’s about to lose all hope, Linus steps in to remind him what Christmas is all about by reciting Luke 2:8-14, the story of angels announcing the birth of the Christ child to a group of shepherds. “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown,” Linus says.

Every year, a horde of modern-day Linuses take it upon themselves to make sure none of us forget that message. With billboards and yard signs, T-shirts and bumper stickers, radio hits and TV appearances, a cottage industry has formed around the simple message of “keeping Christ in Christmas.”

A conscientious objector

For years, I’ve received this message with a skepticism rooted in my Baptist heritage. Because I believe in religious freedom, I’m not offended when someone tells me, “Happy holidays” at the grocery store instead of, “Merry Christmas.” Because I believe in the separation of church and state, I’ve refused to throw a fit when some city hall in Delaware decides not to put up its nativity scene. I have been a conscientious objector to the so-called war on Christmas.

Having second thoughts

But this year, I admit I’m having second thoughts. As I look at a world starved for hope, peace, joy and love, I wonder if we don’t need more Linuses out there prompting us to keep Christ in Christmas.

My only caveat: In the spirit of James 1:22, which calls us to be “doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves,” and James 1:27, which teaches that true religion is “to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world,” I would like to expand what keeping Christ in Christmas means.

What keeps Christ in Christmas

Beyond the songs we sing, the decorations we put up and the greetings we exchange, our actions can keep the holiday holy.

In a season of materialism and overindulgence, we keep Christ in Christmas by feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and welcoming the stranger.

In a season of partisan rancor, we keep Christ in Christmas by loving our enemies.

In a season when family life is glorified nearly to the point of idolatry, we keep Christ in Christmas by ministering to the homebound, the hospitalized, those in nursing homes and the children bouncing from foster home to foster home.

With a nod to Linus, we keep Christ in Christmas by reading about a child born in Bethlehem so many years ago and believing with all our hearts he is the Savior, Christ the Lord.

And with humble, childlike faith—not aggression or hostility, slickness or sensationalism—we proclaim that blessed truth in word and deed to the world Jesus came to save. After all, Linus was right: That’s what Christmas is all about.

Daniel Camp is pastor of South Garland Baptist Church in Garland. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

During the holidays, we hear calls for “Merry Christmas,” “Joy to the World” and “Peace on Earth,” as well as other encouragements to seek the positive aspects of life.

We feel our Christian faith often demands happy thoughts and mandates a sense of well-being. Yet to many, this time of year is painful and decidedly unjoyful. Peace is elusive. Days are not merry.

Not all is merry and bright

There are many reasons why people are not able to celebrate this year. Maybe a loved one died recently. Maybe family arguments and past hurts prevent peaceful gatherings. Maybe this time of year coincides with a traumatic memory.

In my case, it’s the latter. On Oct. 3, 1993, I was sitting down to rest on a quiet Sunday afternoon when my life turned upside down. I was an Air Force broadcaster in Mogadishu, Somalia, and for the next few days, I experienced the nightmare that later became known as “Blackhawk Down.”

After surviving the first few days of the battle and experiencing catastrophic death, I began the process of trying to fit what just happened into my worldview.

How does a young Baptist man raised in the suburbs—who believes all people are good and just need God’s help to bring out their goodness—deal with moral injury? How could such a nice guy be part of something so hideous and objectively ungodly? How does this fit together? It doesn’t.

By Christmas 1993, I was sitting in a deer stand in Comanche County on a hunting trip with my brother. It was a beautifully cold morning, perfect for hunting. Yet, I still was in Mogadishu.

I missed the soldiers I went through hell with, I cried when I thought about the Somalis who were killed, and I needed more adrenaline. How does that even make sense? It doesn’t.

When I thought I’d left trauma behind

Later, when I was called to full-time ministry and left the military to go to seminary, I believed I had rid myself of these feelings and thoughts. Never mind the sleepwalking, the angry outbursts or my inability to go shopping at Walmart because there are so many people there.

I took counseling courses so I could help others with their problems, and I signed up for Clinical Pastoral Education so I could learn how to minister to the dying. How did that work? It didn’t.

Eighteen years later, after continued emotional rollercoaster rides, recurring nightmares and growing distrust in humanity—because it seemed people are really bad and need God to control their badness—I finally accepted a diagnosis. I have post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.

I started getting help. I received therapy, I was put on some medications, and I found out about the affect of sleep apnea on PTSD. God provided so many resources. He also taught me how to forgive others and myself. Healing began, courage returned and mercy reigned.

PTSD and recovery

Twenty-six years later, and I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.

Can PTSD be fixed? I don’t know. All I know is the holidays still hold some painful memories. The memories aren’t gone, just tucked away in a safe place.

I still don’t like shopping at Walmart. I still get angry from time to time. I still have nightmares occasionally. But God has given me the gift of recovery through time.

Isn’t that what we celebrate at Christmas? God gave us his one and only Son. Even in the darkest times, we can find joy in that.

God gives us recovery, restoration and rehabilitation.

This became my Christmas message: God loves us so much. Although we have done some really bad things, although we carry so much hurt and anger, although we don’t trust others, God still loves us.

Eric Whitmore is a retired United States Air Force Chaplain and an associate endorser for Chaplaincy Relations of the Baptist General Convention of Texas. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

You may think the land is flat where I live. But, there are places where patient watercourses have carved canyons, revealing beauty below the caprock and forever changing the landscape.

Some people are intentional with the flow of their life. They carve a canyon-like existence into our world. The investment of their lives into us forever changes the landscape among us for the better.

A canyon-making river

Darold H. Morgan passed away Dec. 11 at the age of 95. He was a canyon-maker of a man, an unswerving watercourse.

At 16 years of age, he left the family farm to preach and didn’t stop until he taught his last class the Sunday before he passed away. Dr. Morgan was an exemplary husband and father. Additionally, he was a student, a preacher, a pastor, a teacher, a CEO, a mentor and a friend.

At his memorial service, O.S. Hawkins, president and CEO of Guidestone, praised Dr. Morgan’s steady leadership at the Annuity Board (now Guidestone) during denominational divisions.

Dr. Morgan’s pastor at First Baptist Richardson, Ellis Orozco, proclaimed, “every pastor needs a pastor … and Darold Morgan was my pastor.” The most impactful words came from Dr. Morgan’s son, Tim, who spoke on behalf of his siblings. Tim lauded the transparent authenticity of his father, saying, “The man who pastored and led among you was the same man among us at home.”

How Dr. Morgan shaped me

I humbly add my story to theirs. Forty-five years ago, I was just a kid when I met Dr. Morgan. For him, it was only half a lifetime. Yet over that time, his influence on my life is immeasurable.

He was my pastor, mentor, adviser and friend. I witnessed his exemplary love for his wife and kids. I observed his friendship with my parents. I listened to his guidance and wisdom in ministry. He made my life, my library and my vision greater.

His engagement and encouragement revealed what was below the surface of my life. The landscape of my life forever is changed because of him.

Even more, Dr. Morgan showed me that being part of the connected church matters. I saw how he valued the long-term treasure of the church, not the short-term gains of causes. I learned a viable need for the connected church exists, even if “denominationalism” fades.

There is a biblical example in the apostle Paul of tying the autonomous bodies of Christ into one cooperative body. A few have done well demonstrating that Pauline task, and Dr. Morgan was one such person.

The canyons carved into the landscape of our denomination, our churches and our lives reveal the beautiful consistency of the watercourse of his life’s work.

With Dr. Morgan’s passing, we lost “a stream of water in the dry country.”

I pray God will raise up more canyon-makers. We need them now.

Jay Abernathy is the associate pastor for 50+ adults and pastoral care at First Baptist Church of Lubbock and serves on the Baptist Standard board of directors. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

The Christmas season is hard. I know I’m really not supposed to admit that. I am supposed to hide behind the smiles, the upbeat Christmas songs playing on the radio, the lights shining brightly on all the houses, the colorful and joyful ornaments on the tree, the gatherings with family and friends sharing good food and gifts.

Despite all of that, I can’t help but have a sense of dread about this season.

Dread during the holidays

Maybe some of the dread comes from the job I have. As a pastor, I have seen the hurt and pain so many carry with them through Christmas. I have seen how alone so many people are.

Some of the dread comes from my own personal loss. After my mom passed away, Christmas has never been the same. Home really is not home anymore. I grew up with the house filled with the smells of her cooking and the sound of her laughter, and now, the absence of these things makes Christmas hard.

Since having kids of my own, there is great joy in seeing the wonder in their eyes and the excitement they have, but in many ways, not having loved ones here with us to see their wonder and excitement makes it even harder.

Maybe you struggle with the holidays, too. Maybe you have a hard time being merry and bright. You are not alone.

Jesus is the light

In the beautiful prologue of John’s Gospel where he shows us the eternal nature of the Word and the power of the incarnation, John calls Jesus “the light of all mankind.”

John wrote, “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world” (John 1:9). About this light, this Jesus, John wrote, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

This is the ultimate hope we celebrate in this season. It is the hope we patiently wait for through the season of Advent and celebrate joyously at Christmas.

Jesus is the light of the world. He shines the light of his love in the darkness of our grief, our suffering and the difficulty we experience in this season.

The darkness will not overcome this light. It will shine and is shining, if we have eyes to see.

Look for the light

Where is the light of Jesus shining around you?

For you, maybe it is in the beautiful decorations and many events of the season. Maybe it simply is in the smiles of your children, the hugs of loved ones or a good conversation with a friend.

Too often, we look for a spotlight when a flashlight is all we need.

Jesus shows his love to us most in the ordinary moments and relationships of our everyday lives. He will shine the light of his love somewhere in your life today. Hold on to that hope.

Be the light

Where can you be the light of the love of Jesus during this season that is so hard for so many?

Who can you call, text or visit just to let them know you love them and are there for them? You may know someone who has lost a loved one recently. Pray for that person. Invite him or her over. You don’t have to have the exact words. You just have to show up and let people know they are not alone.

This time of year is a perfect opportunity for us to be the hands and feet of Jesus in real and tangible ways.

If Christmas is hard for you, you are not alone. In the darkness, look for the light. The darkness you are in has not overcome the light of the love of Jesus.

If Christmas is your favorite time of year, a time you can’t wait to come around, be the light of the love of Jesus for someone around you. Speak a kind word, send a nice note or invite someone over for dinner. You don’t have to get people in the Christmas spirit; you just have to love them where they are.

“The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world” (John 1:9).

Let’s look for the light, and let’s let the light shine through us.

Zac Harrel is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gustine, Texas. The views expressed here are solely those of the author.

We all have heard news reports or stories of people diagnosed with post-traumatic stress, or what is commonly known as PTSD. In this condition, people experience their body being taken over by the good protection system God put in our bodies and brains. Their fight/flight/freeze system that prepares the body to deal with threats to life is stuck in overdrive.

Several years ago, during chaplaincy training, I participated in a weekly group meeting with inpatients on the psychiatric floor. One day, a patient came into the room and sat next to me. She was shaking visibly and couldn’t stop. Her fear and anxiety were palpable. It made me hurt for her and wonder if she would find relief and peace.

On another occasion, when I earned my living as a pilot, one of my colleagues lost his footing on the plane’s stairs and fell. Fortunately, he wasn’t injured physically, but shortly after, he began experiencing a racing heart rate, sweat and fear of a heart attack. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He experienced a panic attack. He was under a lot of stress at the time.

As I dealt with depression over a long period of time, I also experienced frequent tension, even a continual undercurrent of tension. Fear—specific and unspecific—plagued my thinking, behavior and life. I often felt anxiety around people—and still do, especially if asked to get in front of a large group. Speaking and singing in front of a large group might send me to the restroom but always filled me with apprehension.

When is anxiety more than a nuisance?

Anxiety is experienced along a spectrum from everyday tension and worry to an all-encompassing and debilitating anxiety that requires hospitalization.

Everybody experiences worry, fear and tension, but what makes such anxiety a mental illness? When worry, fear, tension and anxiety last for days, weeks or even months and feel debilitating, intrusive or isolating, when it affects sleep, causes a person to feel like they’re going crazy or is excessive and non-stop worry and fear, then anxiety may be a mental illness.

Am I anxious because I don’t have enough faith?

When anxiety is making a mess of daily living, work and relationships and there is no sense of peace, is this a sign of “not enough faith” or sin in one’s life? Maybe, and maybe not.

I’m not an expert in theology or psychiatric issues. I am someone who has lived with depression and anxiety, who loves the Lord and has wanted to be someone who isn’t “anxious about anything” and who “casts every care upon the Lord.” I have learned and am learning.

Sometimes I haven’t exercised the faith God has given me, and an unconfessed sin may lead to feelings of depression and anxiety. But if I have kept the confession list short and acknowledged, “I believe, Lord; help my unbelief,” then a simplistic “turn it over to the Lord and stop worrying” doesn’t help or solve the problem. At that point, anxiety isn’t from a lack of faith.

What may be happening in all forms of anxiety is a “malfunction” of how God designed our bodies to work. Sometimes, the fight/flight/freeze response meant to prepare us for action and equip us with the energy to respond instead turns into a chronic and near-continuous preparedness for action that forces our body into working against itself. What God meant for good becomes harmful.

Five forms of anxiety and ways of addressing them

There are five specific “malfunctions” of the fight/flight/freeze system: generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), panic attacks, phobias and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).

Confirmation of what may be happening requires the help of a family doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist or counselor. Medication(s) may be needed to manage the symptoms. Additional therapies may be needed, as well as good support from family and/or support groups.

Particularly important is continuing to grow in one’s spiritual life, which is needed for a return to health and a rich, purposeful life.

Paul instructs us to “renew our minds” and to “have the mind of Christ” through the Holy Spirit. One of the basic problems with any of the disorders listed above is what many call “stinking thinking.” Recognizing the negative thinking patterns and false beliefs we hold is vital. Then, we need to replace them with positive, scripturally-sound patterns and true beliefs.

A handful of suggestions for addressing anxiety

• Recognize that just because you may have had a life-threatening event or condition doesn’t mean you have a mental illness. It also doesn’t mean you don’t. If anxiety really is messing up your life, check it out.

• Don’t hide it or minimize it. Don’t isolate yourself or be tough. Seek out trusted help. A pastor, confidant, doctor or mental health counselor are good starting points. Follow through.

• If you know someone who is struggling, be there for him or her. Don’t have an agenda. Listen, reflect back what you hear, care about them, and when the person opens up, gently suggest he or she pursue seeing a doctor or counselor. Be “quick to listen, slow to speak.”

• There are many good resources, such as Overcoming Anxiety, Worry, and Fear by Gregory L. Jantz and Ann McMurray.

I am not an expert, but I am one who is living through some of these issues and seeks to encourage others. If you have questions or thoughts, feel free to contact me at johnphereford@gmail.com.

John Hereford is pastoral ministry associate at The Woodlands First Baptist Church in The Woodlands, Texas. The Woodlands First provides several mental health resources. If you are in a dark time and need immediate help, call 911 or the national suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:1-4).

The surprising Gospel

One of the interesting things about teaching New Testament Survey year in and year out is some things always surprise students. When we read the Gospel of John, for example, it’s always a surprise to them when John doesn’t have a Christmas story. No manger, no angels, no wintery eve in Bethlehem with shepherds and Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Just a crystal-clear pulling-back-the curtains kind of beginning that frames the whole arc of Christmas in the biggest possible setting imaginable.

John 1 intentionally mirrors Genesis 1—in which there is nothing, and then there is everything—with one major exception: The God who has brought everything into being is not brought into being, but always is. The God who has loved all things into existence was not brought into existence, but always was.

And so, at Christmas then, the God who has created all things becomes one with that creation. The One through whom all things were made is joined to it. The One who creates light becomes that light in the darkness.

The surprising God

This is the Christmas story, this is the gospel. This is the drama behind the drama, which peers through every nook of the nativity and illuminates the politics, hardship and terror of the Christmas story, for the light in the darkness gets no free pass from the darkness.

The child Jesus now is helpless in the manger, without language, without mobility, without sleep regulation or warmth or food. Taken by his hands to where he does not wish to go, he will be led into Egypt, defenseless against the Herods and the elements alike.

St. Athanasius, a fourth-century church father, describes the baby in this way: “While he moved in the body, the universe was not left void of his activity and providence. But what is most marvelous, being the Word, he was not contained by anyone, but rather himself contained everything … Being in the human body, and himself giving it life, he properly gives life to the universe also.”

What Athanasius means is this is truly the shape of God, the One who sustains all things, not in spite of being human, but in and through this way. The Word, dwelling among us, was, in taking on flesh, redeeming creation from the inside out.

As Gregory of Nazianzus, a later contemporary of Athanasius, put it, Jesus “bears the title ‘Son of Man,’ not just with a view to being accessible through his body to corporeal things … but with the aim of hallowing humanity through himself, by becoming a sort of yeast for the whole lump.”

The surprise of Christmas

The Christmas story—the drama of Mary, Joseph and Jesus—is playing out of what always has been the case. The light of the world sustains us, not by being over against us, but by being among us, with us, for us, suffering us.

What is so important that Gregory and Athanasius point out is this: This weak child is the one who is holding all creation together. This helpless child is God for us, the only God there is. To wish for a stronger God, one who would save us without also suffering us, is to wish for a salvation that is not patient with the stuff of being human.

This is the Christmas story and the gospel, that the light comes among us and in doing so overcomes the darkness.

And so, as the baby Jesus moves out into the world and continues to take up space and disciples, we are seeing an expanding of the light, radiating out through those disciples, such that the truth of John 1, “that the darkness has not overcome it” becomes a promise Jesus shares with all those who are his disciples.

The call to do likewise

Jesus’ disciples are called to follow in Jesus’ way. They too will share, not only in the hallowing of creation, but also in being abandoned by it; they too will share, not only in Christ’s glory, but also in his suffering. This call is extended to us, as well.

This is the Christmas story and the gospel, that the light of the world shines from within the world, suffering the darkness of the world in order to drive it out, to make holy that which always was destined to share in that holiness which is God. For this is God.

And so, in this Advent season, let us come and take up the cries of the baby. Let us hear his hunger, and let us take him up into our lives like a newborn, frail and irreplaceable. Let us be made alive by the One who is the light in the darkness, and let us be made new in clinging to this child.

For in letting in this weak, defenseless child, we are embracing God and with him who we are meant to be.

Let us, in the words of Gregory, “treat all as God does, so that you may ascend from below to become like God, because he came down from above for us.”

Myles Werntz is assistant professor of Christian ethics and practical theology and the T.B. Maston Chair of Christian Ethics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon Seminary in Abilene. Email him at Myles.Werntz@hsutx.edu. Views expressed are those solely of the author.

“And Jesus saw a great multitude, and he felt compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things” (Mark 6:34).

“The Pharisees answered them: ‘You have not also been led astray, have you? No one of the rulers or Pharisees has believed in him, has he? But this multitude which does not know the Law is accursed'” (John 7:47-49).

In both of the passages above, ‘the crowd’ gets in the way of someone’s plan.

Two interactions with ‘them’

In Mark 6, Jesus had just reunited with his disciples after sending them out to teach, heal and cast out demons. When they returned, Mark reported so many other people were coming and going that they did not have time to eat (Mark 6:3-32).

Jesus and disciples boarded a boat, seeking a place of privacy and rest. Instead, the crowd ran to the landing place, gathering more people as they went, and already were there when Jesus and the disciples disembarked. They were ready to hear Jesus teach, and none of them thought to bring any dinner.

In John 7, the Pharisees and the chief priests set aside their theological differences to accomplish a very practical result—arrest Jesus. Jesus was speaking about being sent by God, many in the crowd believed and wondered aloud whether he was the Messiah, though some doubted his origins.

The Pharisees and chief priests sent the temple police to arrest Jesus. Instead, the officers came back impressed by the things Jesus said and the way he said them. The Pharisees scoffed and insulted the officers by comparing them to the crowd.

How ‘they’ get in the way

In Jesus’ case, the crowd got in the way of rest. Anyone in a position of ministry, service, teaching or healing knows this feeling well. There always is more to do, and no one knows when the next break is going to come.

In the case of the Pharisees and chief priests, the crowd was a threat. If they followed a (presumably) false Messiah, everything would come crashing down, as this same group said in John 11:48: “If we let him go on like this, all men will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation.”

The crowd was a threat because they were gullible, they didn’t know the Law, and they were under the curse, besides. Their opinion on Jesus counted for nothing, because they were ignorant and going to hell.

Two responses to ‘them’

Here’s a curveball for you: The Pharisees probably were right technically. The crowd likely did not know the Law, but even if they did, they certainly were under its curse. For the Pharisees, this meant the crowd’s voice should be ignored. Important decisions such as ‘what shall we do with the one called Jesus?’ were better left to the experts.

Yet, Jesus saw the crowd in a different way, “like sheep without a shepherd.” “Lost,” we might say. Jesus, much more than the Pharisees, had the right to declare the crowd ignorant and hell-bound. If he wished to curse them, he could have done it by right and authority. Instead, “he felt compassion for them.”

Compassion is the major difference between Jesus and the Pharisees and chief priests. The next thing that happened was the miraculous feeding of the five thousand (and more), a miracle of provision and abundance sparked by a heart of compassion.

‘Us’ and ‘them’

Which brings us to “us.” How do we feel about “them?” “Them” is the crowd in your way. “They” are standing between you and a well-earned rest. “They” are ignorant of God’s law. “Their” political views are threatening to bring everything crashing down. “They” should shut up and just let you or whoever you think is an expert be in charge.

If this is the way we feel about “them,” then we can start tithing from our spice rack, blowing a trumpet when we give our offering, and praying, “Thank you, God, that I am not like other people.”

As we enter 2020, we enter another election year. In our homes and our churched, at work and on social media, we will have multiple opportunities to say how we feel about “them.”

What will our family, our coworkers, our congregation, our Facebook friends hear from us? Will they hear, “This ignorant crowd is accursed!” or some version of it?

Or will they hear another voice, a voice of compassion that gives thanks to God before breaking bread and sitting down to feast, a voice in which the crowd discovers that where Jesus is, there is more than enough to go around?

Patrick Adair is pastor of The Crossings Baptist Church in Mesquite, Texas.

“If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”

Simon the Pharisee couldn’t resist.

A woman beyond forgiveness?

As Pharisees tended to, Simon thought he knew better, even better than Jesus Christ himself. When Simon saw the woman who “lived a sinful life” was down on the ground weeping at Jesus’ feet, wiping her tears away with her hair while Christ casually reclined at the table, Simon the Pharisee took it upon himself to make sure Jesus knew he needed to stay away from that woman. Simon the Pharisee thought this woman was too sinful, too dirty, too controversial to be anywhere near Christ.

But then, as Christ does with all sinners, he reversed the status of the woman: “Do you see this woman? … her many sins have been forgiven.”

Yet, even after this declaration of forgiveness, the other guests whispered among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” The guests gathered thought this woman was too sinful to be forgiven, so sinful that they began to question the authority of Jesus himself.

In spite of all the murmuring, in spite of what seems to be the guests blatantly ignoring the teaching Jesus just offered in their presence, Jesus went further still, turned to the woman directly and proclaimed, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

A man beyond forgiveness?

Kanye West and his Jesus is King album have revealed too many of us are still like Simon the Pharisee, despite all Christ has done personally for us. Too many of us grumble under our breaths about who this man is rather than shouting out in jubilation about what Christ can do.

Like Simon the Pharisee, we think we are being clever when we proudly say, “It’s just a publicity stunt.”

Like those gathered at the party, we see Kanye West say something we disagree with or think is too far afield and say to ourselves and each other: “See? I told you.”

What have you told us? Have you told us of the miraculous work of Jesus Christ? Of the saving grace only he can offer? Did you celebrate this repentance? Have you forgotten “there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent?” In this case, it is Kanye West who is the one sinner.

Who is beyond forgiveness?

Perhaps, for you, it is not Kanye West whose repentance and newfound faith you meet with cynicism rather than warmth. Maybe it’s your alcoholic uncle who has declared himself for Christ, yet you still struggle to shake his past behavior from your view of him.

For others, it could be a once-distant mother who only now wants to be in your life because Christ is in hers.

Is it the wild friend from college you’re only friends with now on Facebook, whose apparent newfound faith you consider with surprise and maybe a little suspicion?

Are you beyond forgiveness?

There are so many people with so many stories of Christ turning to them and speaking the words he spoke to this woman: “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

The next time you read about Kanye West or Justin Bieber, hear from your high school friend, read about an inmate on death row, or hear some story of some random sinner turning to Christ, remember: Not that long ago, that someone was you.

“Who is this who even forgives sins?”

Well, Simon, it’s Jesus Christ. And he’s forgiven me, just as he has forgiven Kanye West, who now joins us amongst the chorus of the repentant. Maybe one day soon, it will be the friend or family member sitting across from you at the table.

Praise be to God for this indescribable gift!

Smith Getterman is a graduate of Baylor University and Dallas Baptist University. His work has appeared in the Dallas Morning News, Austin American Statesman, Faithfully Magazine, and the Baptist Standard. You can find him on Twitter @getterman or by email at sgetterman@gmail.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Christians sometimes have misinterpreted and misapplied certain texts from the Bible. This can be out of innocent ignorance, or it can be for more ignoble reasons.

For example, Christians often take Jeremiah 29:11 as a promise of individual prosperity and comfort, when in reality this passage is part of God’s promise to his covenant people as a whole while they prepare to enter 70 years of exile in Babylon.

Another passage I believe gets severely misinterpreted, especially by preachers, is Luke 21:1-4, the story of “the widow’s mite.”

Popular interpretations

“And he looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the treasury. And he saw a poor widow putting in two small copper coins. And he said, ‘Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all of them; for they all out of their surplus put into the offering; but she out of her poverty put in all that she had to live on’” (Luke 21:1-4 NASB).

Most interpreters take this passage as a paradigm of “sacrificial giving.” Jesus is lifting up this impoverished widow as an example of how to give financially to the church. “It’s not about how much you give; it’s about how sacrificially you give.” “It’s not about the amount in the plate; it’s about the attitude in your heart.” And so it goes.

However, I believe this fundamentally misunderstands the point of this passage. I think it is mistaken and unwise to preach the text in this way.

The context

Context is everything when interpreting the Bible, and this passage’s context is usually ignored. When this story takes place, Jesus is in the process of fiercely denouncing the temple and its leadership.

In the verses immediately prior to our passage, Jesus says: “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love respectful greetings in the market places, and chief seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets, who devour widows’ houses, and for appearance’s sake offer long prayers. These will receive greater condemnation” (20:46-47).

And immediately after our passage, this exchange takes place: “And while some were talking about the temple, that it was adorned with beautiful stones and votive gifts, he said, ‘As for these things which you are looking at, the days will come in which there will not be left one stone upon another which will not be torn down’” (21:5-6). Jesus then launches into the Olivet Discourse, in which he foretells the way God will judge and destroy the temple.

The historical and cultural context is vital, too. The temple treasury served two purposes. First, it provided the economic means to keep the temple running and support its workers. Second—and this is key—it was meant to provide economic support for the poor, for widows, etc.

The real meaning

Is Jesus commending this widow for her sacrificial giving and piety? He might be; he might not be. That’s not really the point. It is impossible to understand this passage rightly without recognizing its place within Jesus’ condemnation of the temple and its leadership.

This widow has been bankrupted and driven near the point of death by a system that is supposed to care for her and protect her (verse 4). This woman has been economically exploited by the temple and its leaders. This story provides a graphic example of the scribes “devouring widows’ houses.” When Jesus sees this, it’s the last straw.

Jesus pronounced God’s judgment on the temple and its leadership for a number of sins, including the exploitation of the poor and widows. Even if Jesus intended to praise the widow for her behavior, that is not the whole meaning of this passage. If the widow’s piety is in view, it serves as a contrast with the scribes’, further highlighting the temple’s failure.

This passage is not a simple commendation of sacrificial giving; it is part of God’s condemnation of religion that neglects and exploits the poor. And lest you think this is a “liberal, Marxist” interpretation of the passage, consider that preachers no less conservative than John MacArthur have argued this is the correct reading of the text.

Preaching “the widow’s mite”

Popular American preaching of this passage almost always interprets it solely as a paradigm of financial giving. This passage usually is trotted out during giving campaigns. Sometimes, this is well-intentioned, such as for giving to missions. Other times, it is openly exploitative, such as prosperity preachers promising fictional “blessings” in exchange for money.

As I said above, I believe it is mistaken and unwise to ignore the wider context when preaching Luke 21:1-4. Preachers and teachers always should place this text in the context of Jesus’ condemnation of the temple and its leaders. To mention only the contested meaning that Jesus is praising the widow does not do justice to the passage.

Moreover, consider the poorest members of your church. Imagine you’re preaching this text in the popular fashion, and impoverished people in your congregation hear you telling them they need to give all they have left to live on. You may cause them to feel shame for not giving enough when they barely have enough to get by, while also ignoring the church’s responsibility to care for them.

Should we give sacrificially? Absolutely. This widow’s example can serve to confront and convict those of us who are wealthier yet who give only a minute fraction of our income, if anything at all. But we should never forget the condemnation and judgment Jesus pronounces on religious systems and leaders who squeeze cash out of those in poverty.

Joshua Sharp is a Master of Divinity student and graduate assistant in the Office of Ministry Connections at Truett Seminary in Waco, Texas. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Thanksgiving Day. It brings cheer, laughter, love and, if you are a true Baptist, a lot of good food.

As Christians, we easily slide into the spiritual focus on gratefulness and acknowledging what God is doing in our lives. It is a day of joy for the majority, but for many, just beneath the smiles and laughter, is trauma from past experiences or, in my case, historical racial trauma.

Range of emotions about Thanksgiving

As a citizen of the Mvskoke (Creek) Nation and as an American and a Christian, Thanksgiving brings a myriad of emotions.

Do I observe Thanksgiving as a Native American? Yes, I do. I recognize the significance of the opportunity to show gratitude, and I too look forward to the moments around the table with family and friends. Yet, I am acutely aware of the ever-present tension that swirls just below the surface.

Historical trauma can play a continual game of hide and seek. I never know when it will show its oppressive head and pull me down into the oxygen-deprived reality.

Though our visibility as Native Americans is high during this season, we continue to remain invisible as a people. Schools dress children up like “Indians” to “honor” Thanksgiving, and our beautiful culture is quickly emulated with a value pack of construction paper, crayons and glue sticks.

History books hold tight to the story of the coming together of two groups of people in order to share a meal. We see the imagery of the pilgrim and the indigenous finding common ground through their differences with peace as the outcome.

So, what happened to that image of peace and unity? What has caused historical trauma for Native Americans?

An example is the “Indian Boarding School.” This is a forgotten part of United States history.

History influences Thanksgiving

With the motto of “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man”—attributed to U.S. Cavalry Capt. Richard Henry Pratt, founder of Carlisle—the Christian-based boarding school may have the most traumatic impact on the living generations of Native Americans.

Most of us are only a couple of generations removed. Think about that for a moment. We are the children and grandchildren of the little faces you see in photos. We have witnessed the effect of boarding schools on our loved one’s lives.

Carlisle is one of the most recognized of the boarding schools. Created to assimilate Native children into Euro-American Christian culture, more than 10,000 Native American children were brought to Carlisle from 1879 to 1918. Carlisle went on to be the model for 26 industrial schools and was an influence on hundreds of boarding schools focused on the slow cultural genocide of the Native American child.

To fulfill “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man,” children’s hair was cut short, and their native clothing was exchanged for uniforms. They faced emotional, physical and sexual abuse. They were made to do hard labor, forced to be alone in order to reduce the speaking of their native tongue and, oftentimes, their names were changed to be more fitting to the majority culture.

Many never returned home because of disease, work accidents or violence, only to be buried in unmarked graves. Boarding school graves, individual and mass, still are being discovered today.

The history of the boarding school is horrific, but during the era of the boarding school, boys across America were dressing up and acting like “Indians” for entertainment while actual Native American boys and girls were being removed from their homes and completely transformed from the outside inward.

Our society, in general, has accepted the idea to pretend—for entertainment purposes—to be another culture, race or ethnicity. At the same time, our majority society reacts negatively to cultures, races and ethnicities living out fully who they are.

Know us, and not just at Thanksgiving

Christianity has played a significant role in our American history. We have the opportunity to heal the historical trauma of our brothers and sisters in Christ. What can the church do to reconcile with Native American Christians?

• See us. We are still here, and we are breathing the same air. We are in your congregations and in your workplace.

• Learn about our culture, and ask us how Nativeness plays a role in the church.

• Recognize us as equal in our Creator’s eyes. Value our input and how we view God revealed in our world.

• Love us as Christ loves us and commands us to love one another.

It is a beautiful time for racial reconciliation to happen within our churches. We have the perfect tool—the words and actions of Christ.

We are Imago Dei. As a Native American and follower of Christ, I know who created me and whom I reflect.

When I look at my reflection, I rest in knowing I am perfectly made. I rest in knowing the historical trauma is not unseen by the One who took great care in molding me. I rest in knowing my pain, my ancestors’ pain and our restoration is near, even if just out of sight.

Until that day, I will continue to speak on racial education in order to reach reconciliation within the American Church.

Mariah Humphries is a Mvskoke Native American and lives in Waco with her family. Her husband is senior pastor at Park Lake Drive Baptist Church. She currently is pursuing a master’s degree at Truett Seminary where she focuses on racial reconciliation and Christianity. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Vintage plates, Stove Top stuffing, students and candles. These are just a few of the symbolic things that come to mind when I think about our family Thanksgivings.

The miracle we remember every Thanksgiving

At an early age, my father Eugenio Valenzuela surrendered his life to ministry. He studied at a Bible institute in San Antonio now called Baptist University of the Américas. When I was just 5 years old, he was diagnosed with stomach cancer and given six months to live. There was no cure. As the six-month mark approached, his small frame became increasingly more defined and frail. Plans and dreams quickly faded.

Our church pianist became a good friend to my mother. She consoled her and offered spiritual and emotional support. On his death bed, my dad released his family to the Lord saying: “I now understand that no one can be a better parent to my children than you, God. And no one will be a better provider for my wife than you.”

With that, he entrusted us to God and prepared to meet his Maker. In that moment, we believe the Lord honored his faith and healed him. His next visit to MD Anderson Cancer Center confirmed the miracle.

Soon after, God called my father to move our family to West Texas to pastor a church. As a going-away gift, the church pianist gave my mother a beautiful collection of Franciscan dinnerware. To this day, we use those plates each Thanksgiving, a symbol of friendship and God’s faithfulness.

We are so grateful the Lord allowed my dad to live almost 20 more years. And in memory of our father, our families sponsor an annual Thanksgiving lunch for the students of BUA as a reminder to us of God’s providential hand on our family.

Sharing the table at Thanksgiving

We have had the blessing of having my mom live with us for most of our married life. She enjoys celebrating Thanksgiving and takes pride in the food and all the small details. With place settings for 9 to 12, we begin preparing days before with visions of family gathered around the table.

I’m more about hospitality and sharing our table with special guests. I think about single parents, students away from home, families who have to work on Black Friday, the elderly and on and on. We always have been honored to have guests at Thanksgiving.

I used to work at a television news station, and because the news doesn’t take a break for the holidays, reporters don’t have time off to travel home. One year, our kids were excited to have one of our local reporters at our table.

Last year, we were honored to have my dad’s two sisters join us. We reminisced and shared stories all day.

Now that our kids are older, sometimes they bring friends from college to spend the Thanksgiving break with us.

This year, we are blessed and so excited to add another permanent place setting at our table. In March, our eldest son got married. Our daughter-in-love is a jewel. She has added so much joy to our family.

We serve the traditional Thanksgiving lunch with roast turkey and cornbread dressing. I enjoy baking homemade bread and desserts. And we can’t forget the Stove Top stuffing my husband enjoys once a year. A small reminder of his childhood, it may not be gourmet or fancy, but it is valued because of what it means to him. The entire meal is a symbol of God’s provision and abundance.

Setting the table is part of the anticipation. I like the idea of the table being a place of encouragement.

My favorite Thanksgiving tradition

Just a few years ago, we began the one tradition I delight in most. After lighting the candles at the table—a reminder of God’s special presence illuminating over us—we take bread and serve grape juice, remembering the sacrifice of Jesus.

We bless each of our children, and my mother blesses us. I always get teary-eyed. To hear these powerful words of truth being spoken from the heart over each one is powerful. I eagerly anticipate doing this with our new daughter-in-love.

We sing together and finish with the Priestly Blessing (Numbers 6:24-26). This blessing was ingrained in us at a very early age, words my father spoke over us. It was his prayer for the church and how he closed his daily radio program.

As you prepare your heart to give thanks, whether it be surrounded by family and guests or alone this season, enjoying Stove Top stuffing or a simple turkey sandwich, I pray the glory of God will fill your heart and home. He delights in having you at his banquet table, and his banner over you is love.

Brenda Rincones is the founder of SHINE Girls Conference, an annual event for Latina girls and women. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

I remember the magical days leading up to Thanksgiving. I didn’t know it then, but they were magical because they were super and at the same time very natural.

The super kindness of and to strangers, the familiarity of family and the smells of goodness all collided into what I know as Thanksgiving.

Yet, it was all very natural. As a people and as family, kindness was pervasive and second nature. Family was everywhere, and it was delightful … for the most part. The smells and aromas of good food never disappointed.

All the family is welcome

My family observed Thanksgiving in very traditional ways. We were especially kind and thoughtful during Thanksgiving. We were genuinely interested in how each other was doing, and we hoped for the best.

All were welcomed as we took in the holiday and gave thanks. Family, friends, friends of the family and friends of friends were invited to the celebration.

I would like to think we always are kind to each other. However, Thanksgiving brought on a magical kind of kindness. Uncles who usually were no-shows at family gatherings throughout the year were received with open arms at Thanksgiving. Nieces, nephews and cousins sometimes known as “troublemakers” simply were seen as “family” at Thanksgiving.

The icing on the cake were the new family babies. Kindness was lavished on them.

A particular Thanksgiving gathering comes to mind. I was experiencing a tough year. Going home and seeing familiar faces and smiles brought incredible joy to my heart. I not only knew I was home, I felt at home. My spirit was magically renewed, and I had the assurance “all is well.”

What was most memorable about that particular Thanksgiving was seeing an aunt with whom I share similar features. Though not sure why, staring at her reminded me that not only is all well, but I belonged. I needed that sense of belonging and the kindness of family, and I received what I needed.

Getting ready for the “Big Day”

I’m grateful for Thanksgiving because of its pull to gather and celebrate. Thanksgiving was not just a single day of celebration. Rather, the days leading up to Thanksgiving also were celebratory.

There were small gatherings centered on preparing for the “Big Day.” Take-out and delivery meals were a must as we determined who was cooking what, whose house would be the gathering place, who was coming and when would we start.

Shopping for the Thanksgiving meal was a big part of the celebration. I remember hearing, “Don’t wait until the last minute to grocery shop.” Sometimes, we shopped in advance, and sometimes we didn’t. When we didn’t, crowded stores and long check-out lanes were the consequence.

Thinking back, preparing for Thanksgiving was better at times than the day itself. For one, we got to enjoy preparation for at least a week, the anticipation of a fun-filled day was high, and the break from our normal routine was a wonderful escape. Preparation time was family bonding time.

The memories of sharing stories while peeling potatoes and picking greens still sustain me, but as a young girl, I didn’t appreciate this time. I wasn’t one who particularly liked being in the kitchen. I much preferred reading a book; so, preparing food was a chore. Thank God, my mother made me help her.

Even now, I can see vividly my mother in the kitchen, preparing dressing with chicken, duck or turkey, sweet potatoes, pies, collard greens and a host of other side dishes.

My youngest uncle likely would be grilling something while his wife baked all kinds of delicious desserts. Another aunt also would prepare dressing, cakes, pies and her signature deviled eggs. Many cousins, nieces and nephews purchased drinks and small items to make sure all necessities were there. As I grew older, I became responsible for bringing paper products, which worked out well for me.

The pinnacle of the “Big Day”

Dinner was one of the best parts of Thanksgiving. Yes, kindness was and is important, family and the comfort of family are extraordinary, but the meal—from preparation to finished product—is everything.

I am so grateful I come from a long line of great cooks. Holiday meals were opportunities to eat really, really good food. Thanksgiving was a fairly traditional menu for us, along with special items we didn’t typically have throughout the year.

Beyond the meal, home is magic. Being home, feeling the love, sharing appreciation, being thankful and eating the delicious meal God blessed us with and family members prepared was magic.

The real supernatural to all of this, though, was growing up in a home that worshipped God. We gave thanks to him and for him.

“Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving; Let us shout joyfully to him with psalms” (Psalm 95:2 NKJV).

Lisa M. Rainey, Ph.D., is an experienced educator. She and her husband, Daniel, are members of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Mansfield, Texas. The views expressed are those solely of the author.