I think I have said before that we have four granddaughters who live with us. They are 16, 14, 12, and 9 years old. Let's just say that at any time on any day, emotions run high over here. Things can fall apart if someone doesn't have the right clean clothes they want to wear, we are out of Doritos for lunch, their hair isn't curling correctly, and just a ton of other things can go wrong.

Have you ever been called a hypocrite? If so, did you resent it? Well, you should not have, because you and all of us are hypocrites. Why? We claim to be Christians and find ourselves doing wrong and saying wrong things, if we are honest about ourselves. And that, my friends, makes us hypocrites, every one.

I had wanted to raise my hands in church for years. God has been so good to me; He certainly deserved it. When I read the verses about raising my hands, or sang songs that mentioned it, I felt convicted. I raised my hands at home and in the car, yet at church, my hands remained at my sides.

Lottie is our 9-year-old youngest granddaughter. Wayne usually takes her to school every morning. Let's just say she is normally not "thrilled" about the idea of getting ready for school.

Seven hundred years before Christ, the prophet Isaiah spoke of Him and His suffering. Isaiah was not popular; he was not welcome in the world. But he spoke God’s truth. There are a few prophetic voices today in our country. They, too, are not popular or welcome in our culture.

In Psalm 23:6, David wrote, “Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life…” (NIV). There are many translations and interpretations of what he meant by his words.

Have you ever heard someone give a really good devotion and you thought to yourself, "Wow that was a good Word?" You might have even commented on how you thought it was exceptionally thought-provoking.

​January’s arrival means The Real Deal Santa can catch his breath after another successful run of raising money to fight pediatric cancer while bringing joy to children, many of them cancer patients. Joe and Dawn McGee of Senoia, Georgia, made nearly 50 appearances as Santa and Mrs. Claus this Christmas season. Their appearances raised $105,700.

My cell phone had been acting weird for a while. Everything was running slow. I didn’t get much service, though my coworkers – with the same phone carrier and sitting right beside me - had no trouble at all.

My husband, Wayne, had surgery on his foot in the middle of December. He has been unable to walk on that foot for a little over three weeks now. Earlier this week, I took him to the doctor for his recheck. She was able to take the stitches out and informed him he could start gradually walking with a soft surgical shoe.

Doctors Mark Driscoll and Gerry Breshears (Doctrine: What Christians Should Believe) said, “A life that images God is one in which we are increasingly sanctified by the Holy Spirit to be more and more like Jesus, thereby enabling us to mirror the glory of God in a way that is akin to how Moses radiated the glory of God after meeting with Him on Mt. Sinai.”

I am about to show my age, but as I was thinking about January 1st, I started remembering a simple, inexpensive toy that my children used to entertain themselves when we were traveling.  It was called a "Magic Slate."

First, the good news. Dixie found Jesus. Dixie is the precious and wonderful dog my beloved rescued over a year ago. We hadn’t had a dog in over 30 years, but fell head over paws in love. We are thankful to have her as a part of our family.

The phone rang in the night. I tensed. Only one time has good news ever come in the night: to shepherds when Christ was born.

One of our young adults in my previous pastorate, Allie, served as a house parent at the Fame Girls’ Ranch in Alabama. A new 16-year-old girl was assigned to her cottage. It was time to decorate for Christmas, and the girls brought out the decorations and the new resident opened the box containing the Nativity set.

At work. That’s where it started. On a regular, boring, nothing-ever-happens-around-here night. Suddenly, the sky exploded with light, and they were face down, surrounded by glory.

I love Christmas. I love to find gifts for others that I think they might like. I know everyone in my family likes to make a "list," but I like to get something that I might just come across that reminds me of them or that I think they would be surprised over. It's not always an easy task.

Every person alive needs God, desperately. And too often he does not even know it.

Many times in the Bible, God showed up on ordinary days. Moses was a shepherd when he saw the burning bush. David was also tending sheep the day the prophet Samuel came to his house. Gideon was secretly threshing wheat, and Elisha was plowing a field when their lives changed forever.

I will be the first to admit that I have very soft feelings. I get my feelings hurt very easily. In my head, I am always thinking and analyzing everything from what was said to how I respond. I am sure I am my own worst enemy when it comes to "feelings."

God has given man many good things to steward and enjoy. Science is one of them.

Tuesday evening, I had the opportunity to spend some time with the ladies of Allen Baptist Church. It was their annual Christmas party. The cooks and bakers of ABC had outdone themselves; tasty treats lined several tables. Women of all ages in brightly colored sweaters and shirts milled about the fellowship hall.

I love the way Matthew describes the incarnation by recounting the genealogy of Jesus, by relating the angel’s annunciation to Joseph that he should wed Mary because she would give birth to the Messiah, and by detailing the visit of the wise men who “brought gifts” and fell down to worship the young child.

The Apostle Paul says in Romans 12:5, “For we, being many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another.” Paul compared the church to a human body, in which each part has a different but important role.

A few days before Christmas in 1981, my beloved came home with a great big present just for me. We were newlyweds, living on love and Tator Tots. I didn’t know what it was or how he had paid for it. He laid it gingerly under our sparsely decorated tree.