I can’t understand why Jesus would choose disciples like Peter, Thomas, or James and John.

Peter was rash and reckless and would end up denying Him.

Thomas was a doubter, unwilling to believe without seeing.

He called James and John the “sons of thunder,” which seems less than ideal.

It’s a messy lot. A group of people who are far from perfect.

But that’s the point, isn’t it? Sometimes, we get so caught up in thinking that Jesus can only use perfect people that we miss the opportunities to be who He has called us to be.

He didn’t come for perfect people. He came for sinful ones, to redeem their souls and their stories.

He is not looking for perfect people. He’s looking for ones who will answer His call to “Follow Me.” He’s looking for ones who He can work through in spite of their weaknesses. He’s looking for ones that are going to seek Him first and learn to let Him change their weaknesses into strengths. The ones who will humbly admit their failure and let His Spirit work in their hearts.

Your past, your weaknesses, your failures are not so great that the Savior can’t or doesn’t want to use you. Don’t limit His power to work through our humanity. Let Him work through you.

1 Peter 3:12 gives us a promise, that “They eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous.”

It seems obvious. God is omniscient. He sees all. But the promise in 1 Peter is more than a promise of seeing, it’s a promise of purposeful attention.

As a mother of two young children, I can understand purposeful attention. If I take them to the park or to church and allow them to run and play, I can promise I will have my eyes on the two little girls that belong to me. Sure, I’ll see the other children, but my eyes, my attention is on them.

I’m watching to make sure they’re safe, to ensure they’re being kind to others and others are being kind to them. I’m making sure. I don’t need to step in to correct unkind or dangerous behavior. I’m watching so I can clap for them when they make it down the big slide, and rush to them when they trip and scrape their knee. I’m watching so I can make memories of their little laughs and their silly moves. My eyes are on my children.

In the same way, if we are living a life in right standing with God, we can trust His eyes are on us. He is watching us to step in with correction when we need it, to comfort us in our pain, to rejoice with us in our victories, and to protect us from the dangers we might bring on ourselves if He wasn’t there. His eyes are on His children.

But any mother of toddlers knows that all it takes is about 20 seconds of distraction and suddenly you’ll find your three-year coloring on the walls or your one-year-old standing on your table. You promise you just turned to stir your spaghetti, but they knew.

While God isn’t going to look away from me, I can walk away from His gaze if I follow my will instead of His.

And I don’t want to know what even 20 seconds without His eyes on me would look like. I need Him. I need His direction, His strength, His joy, His peace, His plans.

We live in a world that loves attention, that wants everyone in the room to be looking at them. But in a world that chases fame, I don’t need all eyes on me, I just need His eyes on me.

Before Daniel was the man God shut the mouths of the lions for, He was the man who was faithful to His God and prayer in the midst of a nation that worshipped themselves and its idols.

Before David was King of Israel, he was the young shepherd boy who served his God and those around him whether he found himself in a pasture, delivering lunches, or on the battlefield.

Before Noah found refuge on the ark, he was the man who chose obedience to God in the face of ridicule and doubt.

Before Ruth found a kinsman redeemer in Boaz, she was a woman who left her home and her gods to serve the true God of Israel no matter what it required.

These people, our considered biblical heroes, chose faithfulness in the mundane, in the waiting, before they saw God’s deliverance and victories.

If I’m not careful, I’ll get so caught up in the miracles I’m waiting for that I’ll miss the chances to be faithful now in the ordinary day-to-day.

It’s not about what I can or can’t do. Because God’s not looking for any power I can offer, He has that under control. He’s looking for faithfulness where I am, because that’s what He can work through.

He used the prayers Daniel prayed every day to draw a nation to God. He used David’s ability to kill a bear to protect his sheep to slay a giant. He used the ark Noah built to save his family. And He used Ruth’s desire to follow her mother-in-law’s God to bring her to her redeemer.

So when I find myself in a place where I don’t know the next step, I’ll stay faithful, because I know that the God I serve remains faithful as well.

So many people define freedom as an absence of rules, a lack of restrictions, an ability to do anything you want. It makes sense. Human nature craves to be our own god, to be in control of our own life, to live on our own terms.

Life that way sounds free of restrictions, but you’ll find that a life lived without boundaries may not have rules but it creates chains. Chains of sin and chains of pain. It will build prison walls of addictions and lusts, locking doors with fear and shame.

It sounds like freedom but it’s really a cage.

Because true freedom isn’t about a lack of rules. It’s about a lack of chains.

True freedom isn’t about finding a way to circumvent the boundaries Christ gives us, but instead recognizing that the “rules” aren’t there to punish me or make me miss out. They’re there to keep us out of the prison that He brought me out of.

When we define freedom as a life without boundaries we miss out on a life without shackles. We make God’s word a burden instead of a guide to an abundant life.

And I know too much about what it sounds like when chains break at my feet to not listen to the One who bought my freedom.

You see, Jesus found me in a prison of my own making. It wasn’t my power that led me out. It was His and I know I can trust that His boundaries will continue to keep me free.

I’m not looking for a life without rules because I’m living a life without chains.

God isn’t looking for someone perfect, impressive, or who has the picture perfect life.

He’s looking for a normal person who’s willing to obey. Look at scripture, and you’ll find it to be true over and over.

Before He brought the children of Israel out of Egypt, He looked for midwives who would refuse to kill the children a fearful pharoah demanded that they slaughter and He looked for a mother who would save her baby despite the same pharoah’s command to cast him aside.

Before He defeated Goliath, He looked for a young shepherd boy who knew too much about how strong his God was to be afraid of the giant the others ran away from.

Before He brought down the walls of Jericho, He looked for a woman who was ready to turn from her sin and help protect the spies He sent her way.

Before He turned the heart of a king, He looked for three Hebrew boys who would refuse to bow to an idol even if it meant they walked through the fire.

Before He sent His only son into the world, He looked for a young woman who would be known most for her humble obedience in spite of what others might think.

So make your resolutions. Better your health, your relationships, your home, and your life, but know that God isn’t looking for someone who loses the weight, or gains the followers, or has only sugar-free snacks in their pantry.

He’s just looking for someone who will say yes.

And while we’re chasing the perfect version of ourselves, He’s chasing us.

He may pull you out of the shepherd’s pasture like David, and place you on the battle field or He might leave you exactly where you are, like Moses’ mother. He’ll definitely pull you out of any sin like Rahab, and you might be surprised at how many others you get to bring with you to into His promised land.

What happens after your “Yes” isn’t really the point. The after depends on His goodness and faithfulness which is better than we can imagine.

But the “yes” depends on us.

So don’t wait until you have it all together.

He’s ready to use you now.

As Christmas Day comes to an end, I’m dwelling on the redemption provided by my Savior who entered the world as a tiny babe those many years ago.

If I had been in charge of the plan of redemption for humanity… for myself… my selfish, short-sighted humanity would have created a plan that involved escape more than redemption. I’d have chosen to escape the consequences of my sin, to escape the burdens of this world, to escape the pain and suffering that is a part of this fallen world we live in. I’d have avoided it all.

But God had so much more planned for me than escape. He planned for freedom.

I would have chosen to break out of the prison of sin and shame, escaping through some loophole, but not realizing that I would still be a fugitive to the sin, always looking behind, waiting to be caught again.

He wanted to give me freedom, to let me walk out of the prison that I was rightfully dwelling in. He wanted to give me hope for the future instead of fear of the past catching up. He wanted to destroy the chains instead of just picking the lock.

So instead of taking me out of the prison, He stepped in. Instead of pretending my sin never happened, He bore the penalty. Instead of letting me escape, He bought my freedom.

The baby in the manger, our freedom, has a name, and it’s Jesus.

A King laying in a manger, welcomed by the sheep and their lowly shepherds, carried by a poor, young mother with no bed to lay her head.

Mystery of all mysteries that the Mighty Creator of the universe would enter into our world.

That He would willingly give up heaven and its angels to wear human frailty is beyond comprehension, beyond imagining. In all our hopes and all our dreaming, if we prayed every prayer we could ever dare to whisper, never would we have thought to ask that the I AM THAT I AM would come as a babe, embracing infancy and its vulnerability. We would never dream that He would come as a poor carpenter, experiencing the needs of poverty and the pains of an empty stomach. We would never have believed He would come as anything less than a conquering King with an army to fight with Him and enemies falling at His feet.

And yet, He defied the expectations. He came to offer freedom to His enemies and to show mercy to those who despised Him. He came not to offer freedom from tyrannical governments or the hardships of life that are only temporary battles. No, He came to offer victory over sin, shame, fear, and death – the diseases of the soul that only the divine can liberate us from.

He chose the pain of our sins, the feebleness of a human body, and a life surrounded by the people so many rejected.

He chose it, every second and every hour, the shame, the ridicule, the rejection for us. For me. For you.

May my heart be like that stable, a place where His divinity can meet my humanity. May my life be like that manger, where His Holy Presence can rest. May I be a place that others can see the Christ, the Hope of the World, come for them.

Mystery of mysteries, that the Creator of the universe would not only enter my world, but my heart. That He would answer prayers before my heart knew to cry them or my mouth was willing to speak them. That He would offer victory and freedom where I only had sin and despair. That He would not turn His face away from my shame, but instead enter into it and cleanse me of it.

He was born for me and He was born in me.

May our hearts be the place He enters into once again, with the promises of Mercy, Hope, and Redemption only He can deliver.

Jesus was not what the religious expected when He showed up in a manger full of hay in a stable with only Mary and Joseph.

They were looking for a king leading conquering armies into battle. They were looking for a ruler to destroy Rome’s oppression. They were so busy looking for the kind of power that impresses men that they missed the arrival of the One with the authority of the Father they claimed to serve.

They wanted war and He promised peace. The Son of God born to save humanity. Our salvation unexpectedly wrapped in vulnerability.

He challenged their way of thinking. He was from Nazareth, a city despised. He chose fishermen, tax collectors, and women with pasts He had redeemed to follow Him. He ate with people the religious rejected. He healed on the Sabbath and challenged the Pharisees to search their hearts more than just following the rules. He challenged their belief on who God wanted to save by reaching for Samaritans and Gentiles. He was meek where they expected assertiveness, and He reminded them of His authority when they expected Him bow down.

He turned the world upside down in the way that was least expected and in the least expected places.

This Christmas season, I pray I take Christ out of the box I try to put Him in. Instead of trying to fit Him into my idea of what He should be, I want to find Him in the unexpected places, the places that seem hopeless, with the people that seem unreachable.

We all have our own places in our lives that it’s easy to think are too far out of Christ’s way or too hopeless to ask Him to heal. We all know people that others have rejected because they seem too far gone. Christ’s presence in these places and deliverance of these people can seem unlikely, unexpected.

But that’s His specialty. I want to learn to expect Christ where others don’t. I want to learn to trust His character, His mission, His plan for deliverance and salvation. I want to look for Him in places others look away from. Don’t give up on the places that seem hopeless, your Messiah may just show up unexpectedly and change everything.

The crowd around her was thick and excited, buzzing with anticipation of the One they were there to see. Whispers of “Messiah… Nazarene… Jesus… Teacher…” all floated through the air, but the woman barely heard. She was so weak and so weary, barely managing to make her way through the throng. Every step seemed impossible, tempting her to stop, to turn around, but she was not there to look at the One that everyone else was curious about. She wasn’t there be able to tell others that she had seen the famous Nazarene. No, she was there to find the One that so many claimed could heal her. She wasn’t there to see Jesus. She was there to reach Jesus.

She was so close. She could see Him, surrounded by so many who reached out to touch His clothes, His hair, His hands, gleefully excited to have been so close to the Master. And that’s when she reached out, desperate, and brushed the edge of His garment, praying that it would be enough for the power in Him to make her whole.

Instantly, the power in His body cleansed her and restored the sickness she had battled for 12 long years. She knew it. And He knew it too. Her touch was different, not because of who she was, but because she knew who He was and what He could do. Of all the men and women surrounding her, she alone had experienced His power because she alone was there for it. She alone was really there for Jesus.

In this season of Christmas, it is so easy to find myself flitting around Jesus, just like the crowd. I put a nativity scene on my mantle, attend the Christmas plays and services, and sing the carols. But am I celebrating Christmas or am I celebrating Jesus?

He is with us, today, as much as 2000 years ago, and I don’t want to be guilty of making it about anything other than reaching and worshiping Him. There is nothing wrong with Christmas lights and trees, hot cocoa and matching pajamas, presents and cookies, and I will enjoy these. But it’s not why I celebrate.

And I’m not celebrating so that I can brag about the glimpses of Jesus I caught in this season. I want to be able to proclaim His power that I personally experienced and received throughout this season. I want to make Christmas about more than celebrating. I want to make it about worshipping the One who is the reason I am whole.

The Bible is filled with moments of praise and thanksgiving to the Lord.

There’s praise for the victory after He delivers. Praise for His goodness after He heals. Thanksgiving for the His love and mercy after salvation. There’s praise when the Red Sea parts, when Daniel is delivered from the lion’s den, when the blind receive sight and the lame begin to walk.

But there’s also praise in prison, when Paul and Silas worshipped with the chains still on. There’s praise as a weapon, when the children of Israel marched around Jericho’s walls before they fell. There’s praise in grief and sickness, when Job proclaimed God’s goodness in the worst of circumstances.

In the seasons of plenty and the seasons of emptiness, you can find praise and thanksgiving offered up to the Most High throughout His word. Why? Because He is worthy is every moment, both good and bad.

And Psalms 22:3 reminds us that He is “enthroned on the praises” of His people. He is lifted high and glorified as we worship, whether in our victory or in our battle. His power, His goodness, His faithfulness is not dimmed by our circumstances. No, rather we can choose to present our thanksgiving with a joyful heart that recognizes who He is, wherever we are.

I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving this year. But if this is a season that is less than ideal, painful, or full of grief, I pray you will find the strength to make it a worshipful Thanksgiving, an enduring Thanksgiving, a Thanksgiving full of praise for your most high God.