“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content.” Philippians 4:11 ESV

One of the benefits of living in Carlisle is that we no longer have to take care of a yard. It also means the HOA takes care of all snow removal, including shoveling our walk and driveway. Honestly, I did not mind shoveling. But weather forecasters predicted bitter cold to follow the snow, and I was relieved to know neither Terry nor I would have to deal with the ice-clad snow.

Monday morning, I was still dreaming of snow-covered landscapes and hot coffee when I heard shovels scraping pavement outside my bedroom window. Next, what I assumed to be a Bobcat with a plow groaned while pushing snow across our cul-de-sac. I heard Terry rustling and asked if he thought the noise was plowing. He stood up and confirmed the grating noise was indeed the landscaping crew working hard to clear the driveway. I lifted my phone and the time 5:28am swam into view. I started to grumble and caught myself before uttering a complaint. Instead, I verbally reminded myself to choose gratefulness and contentment.

Throughout my writing, I have repeatedly stated that contentment is the most important trait one can develop. It is not something that people are naturally born with. Instead, it is what Paul refers to as a secret in Philippians 4:11. He says, “I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” This is not a top-secret clearance message Paul received from God. Rather, it was something Paul also needed to cultivate in his own daily life.

Paul’s name may have changed after conversion, but his personality did not. This man was recorded as being zealous in his belief that the people who followed Jesus were committing blasphemy. He was on his way to Damascus to hunt them down when God spoke to him. Like most new believers, Paul may have been ready to jump to the streets to share about his encounter with God. Instead, the Bible records that he spent 3 years praying and studying the life of Jesus. I can imagine Paul thinking to himself after 2 months, I am ready. But instead, God clearly had another plan in mind. He waited another month and inquired of God whether he was ready. But just like a child who asks if we are there yet, Paul was repeatedly denied and waited for God to release him. This gave Paul time to learn contentment in God’s plan, not giving in to his zealous nature to take on the cause of Christ.

This waiting time helped Paul learn how to manage challenging situations later in life. His ministry reached the greater part of the known world at the time. He was welcomed by some communities, while in others he was chased out of town. Paul was whipped, stoned, and shipwrecked. At the time of his letter to the Philippians, he was in a Roman prison. Yet, after Paul stated he had learned to be content, he continued to say in verse 13, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

For me, contentment is not based on my bank balance, the vacations I do or do not take, or whether I am having a good hair day (curly, frizzy hair is a real issue in this current season of life). Instead, I have to trust God daily to supply my needs, and I try to express gratitude in all circumstances. I recognize I come from a place of privilege; I have shelter, food, clothes, and healthy relationships. But Paul was in some terrible situations where he didn’t have his basic needs being met, and he still chose to pursue contentment. I only pray that I can do the same.

This week has been super cold with temperatures dropping below zero. It reminds me of Wisconsin, and it is the first time that I have not been homesick for my lake. It would be easy to fall into the trap of complaining about the bitter cold, wishing I were basking in the sun. So, I bundle up in warm sweaters and cozy socks, and drink warm beverages. I continue to curl up on the couch with extra throws while reading by the glow of my fireplace. And I remember daffodil season is only two short months away.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:11

My husband loves investigating his genealogy. After subscribing to Ancestry.com, he learned that his Scottish family arrived in the US in the mid-1700s. Further back, he discovered that his ancestors lived in a castle and he is distantly related to England’s Queen Camilla. Less than two weeks later, he also found that one of his more recent ancestors was convicted of murder.

Learning about your ancestry can help people feel rooted. Reading the names of my own indigenous relatives helped me connect with my biological father’s family in unexpected ways. I even discovered some more siblings. Some people prize these roots so much that infamous people are cut out of their family trees. It is as if their entire existence is erased because their relatives don’t want the family tree marred by a rotten branch.

I went to the same high school that my mom and her siblings attended. Because I had my mother’s maiden name, the high school principal, Mr Havey, asked if I was related to Dennis and Dave Walter. My twin uncles were amazing men, but had a reputation for being a bit mischievous in high school. Quite often, Mr Havey would call my grandmother to report on their escapades. I replied yes to his question but quickly reminded him I was also related to Kenny and Debbie Walter, my uncle and aunt, who were much more studious. I wanted him to know who I identified with as a high school student.

For the next few weeks, I will be writing about the genealogy of Jesus. Specifically, I want to examine the four women that Matthew chose to include in his account of Jesus’ birth. First, the fact that he was willing to include women in the genealogy says something significant about Jesus. Matthew was trying to prove the “Jewishness” of Jesus by tracing his lineage back to Abraham. But, inspired by God, Matthew included women in Jesus’ genealogical record, which was controversial in those days. Furthermore, all four women had stories filled with brokenness perpetuated by the misogynistic society in which they lived. Again, inspired by God, Matthew included these women for a reason, and that reason gets at the heart of who Jesus is.

Another woman, Mary, the mother of Jesus, said it best in what is referred to as her “Magnificat.” Mary offers this praise after her cousin Elizabeth confirms that Mary is indeed carrying the Messiah. This praise came when so much was still unknown in her future. Her betrothed, Joseph, had not yet indicated how he was going to manage this scandalous pregnancy. According to Hebrew law, he had the right to publicly shame her by legally divorcing her. Despite her uncertain future, Mary was confident in God, declaring “My soul magnifies the Lord.” She goes on to say, “For he took notice of his lowly servant girl and from now on all generations will call me blessed.” Jesus was lifting women up for future generations.

On the surface, it’s obvious that women were treated unfairly in biblical times. Many Christians have perpetuated that in the modern church. They have minimized women’s roles in ministry, marriage, and life. However, reading deeper, you can see that Jesus was trying to raise up women. Peter declared that salvation was for men and women. Jesus declared he came to set the “captive free.” Women were, and continue to be, captive by limitations contrived by society. Jesus intended salvation to bring women liberty and freedom.

My husband reminded me how significant it was that Matthew added these women in the Bible. Matthew knew firsthand how the prejudices of society could impact a person. As a tax collector on behalf of the hated Roman government, Matthew was an outcast among his own people. It is likely he was called names, shunned, and spat upon. He may not have been welcomed in the temple or allowed to share Shabbat with his family. Jesus saw how loneliness and bitterness had broken Matthew’s spirit. But Jesus also saw beyond what others labeled as an outcast and called Matthew to be his disciple. Over the next few years, Matthew was an eyewitness to how Jesus treated those devalued by society, especially women, several of whom were named as followers of Jesus.

Join me and hear the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bethsheba. Note: I want to give credit to Raymond Woodward for inspiring this piece with his message “Broken Christmas.” You can find his message on YouTube. I disagreed with his interpretation of Bethsheba. Read my upcoming piece on her to see my interpretation

“Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path.” Psalms 110:105

“Oh Lord, you are so good, so ready to forgive, so full of unfailing love for all who ask for your help.” Psalms 86:5 NLT

It started almost 36 years ago, tear-stained cheeks, bowed at an altar asking a simple question: “God, are you real? If you are, please fill me with your spirit?” Seconds later, I felt this warm blanket of peace cover me and joy bubbling up from deep within my soul. At that moment, I knew there was a God who loved and cared for me. At that moment, He became my Savior. At that moment, I still had a lot to learn about this God.

I am still discovering His goodness, His love for me, the depth of His sacrifice, and His plans for my life. I love my husband, my children, and my grandchildren. I love my extended family and friends. But the greatest love story in my life is still unfolding, it is my relationship with Jesus Christ.

Like all love stories, it has its hills and valleys. Those are not based on His love for me, but rather my distorted view of Him. I sometimes wander away from Him, pridefully believing I can figure it out on my own. Time after time, His gentleness leads me back to repentance. Other times, I try to worship or connect with Him, but I allow distractions to turn my gaze to other things. Again, His Word redirects me so I can connect. He is forever faithful, knows my deepest secrets, my most unkind thoughts, and yet, still loves me.

I am forever grateful for that altar 36 years ago. It has slowly turned me from being a broken teenager scarred by sexual abuse into a woman who knows God heals and lovingly restores. And as this love story continues, I know someday I will be reunited with Him, surrounded by His glory.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” Psalm 116:15

Recently, we spent an evening at Longwood Gardens in eastern PA. We meandered through the gift store, finding treasures to share with loved ones. We took a small walk through the garden, seeing golden, purple, and burgundy flowers make their final encore before the frost curtain falls. We marveled at the Ginkgo trees, hearing squirrels scattering in the branches. We ended the evening waiting for the illuminated fountain show, which highlighted Bollywood music. Enchanted by the crisp air, I offered to get Terry a hot drink at the food stand above where we were sitting. I climbed the steps and found my way to the hut selling hot spiced apple cider. After the woman handed me my drinks, I started the descent down, but an image of hot drinks sloshing over the lids, or worse, one tumbling down the stairs, stopped me. I could not hold both drinks at the same time while going down the stone stairs. So, I called Terry, and he met me, as he always does, to help me.

I have written four eulogies for people I loved, three of which I personally gave at their funerals. Eulogy writing is hard; how do you sum up someone you loved in a few paragraphs amid your own personal grief? How do you share other people’s perspectives, trying to make the person you care about sound well-rounded? In the case of my uncle, how do you write about him as a husband, father, uncle, and mentor? And the thing I have wrestled with most is how do I stay honest in my portrayal? All too often, I have heard people eulogized, making them akin to Queen Elizabeth, Mother Theresa, or even Jesus himself. In no way do I think a funeral is the place to air your grievances, but it is important to be honest. Even the greatest humanitarian has faults. No one on this side of Heaven is perfect, except Jesus himself. So, I found myself putting fingers on the keyboard, painting with words a praiseworthy portrayal of the person, yet staying true to their humanity.

About two months ago, Dr. James Dobson died. For those of you outside the evangelical world, Dr. Dobson was a major influencer with his daily radio program and nonprofit, Focus on the Family. As a clinical psychologist, he doled out parenting and marriage advice through a Christian lens. He later became more politically active by addressing issues concerning abortion, immigration, and euthanasia. As a new mother, his voice was ever-present in my home, and his books filled my shelves, including Dare to Discipline and The Strong-Willed Child. I loved the world his nonprofit created with the children’s radio drama Adventures in Odyssey. My son’s middle name is Whitaker, and I secretly wished he was named after Whit, the wise older man who owned an ice cream shop in the imaginary town of Odyssey. I even called Focus on the Family’s hotline once to seek some parenting advice during a difficult toddler moment. I was an ardent follower.

Sometime after my children reached high school, I stopped listening to Dr. Dobson. It wasn’t for any specific reason, but likely because I had gotten bored. I had spent the last eighteen years or so listening to the same ideas from different voices through his various interviews. Dr. Dobson had also stepped down from Focus on the Family and later formed a new show under a different nonprofit, where he could make a stronger impact on politics. I only tuned in when my son became engaged and streamed a few shows on how to be a good mother-in-law. I was in a new season of my life, listening to new voices.

In 2016, when Donald Trump arrived on the scene, I was surprised to hear that Dr. Dobson endorsed him. This was the same man who stood firm during the Clinton years, speaking that morality mattered in political office. I tried to justify his endorsement because Mike Pence, his running mate, seemed to have a moral backbone. But as time went on, I heard more about Dr. Dobson’s stance, and I became a little disillusioned with one of my Christian mentors. He seemed to shift, espousing the idea that morality was less important in electing people for political office.

I also started hearing some criticism from some adults who had been raised by Dobson’s followers. They felt his stance on discipline opened the door to child abuse. I reflected on what I had heard and was shocked that some parents had drawn these conclusions based on his talk show and books. Yes, he advocated for discipline and structure, but he insisted discipline had to be shrouded with love. But, upon reflection, I also understood how some people can draw those conclusions based on Dobson’s teachings.

How do I hold the Dr. Dobson who helped shape my parenting in a healthy way, when that same Dr. Dobson’s methods were seen as creating controlling environments and potentially leading to child abuse? How do I hold the Dr. Dobson who helped me see that integrity was an important trait to develop in my life, when that same Dr. Dobson called President Trump a gentleman despite Trump’s crassness on the Hollywood Access tapes? The only way I can hold that is by realizing that, just like me, Dr. Dobson is a Christian who is not perfect. As a formerly ardent follower, I also needed to be careful not to make my mentor an icon.

About six months ago, a question was asked by my pastor: as a Christian, who do you admire or want to be like? One person admired an influential prayer warrior, another said their mom, but one precious tween said “Sherry, because she is always cheerful and encouraging.” I was humbled and surprised by her love for me, but I also felt the weight of that responsibility. I am human and far from perfect. In conversations with her since then, I constantly remind her that I have faults. I don’t want to be the disgraced hero in her eyes. But maybe I need to let her draw her own conclusions at the end of my life. I pray that she doesn’t see me as a perfect Sherry, but a Sherry who knew that Jesus loved her and let His love flow through her to others.

I found holding two hot drinks and going downstairs outside at dusk challenging. But what is even more challenging is knowing that someday my husband, friend, sibling, child or grandchild will have to write my eulogy. I know I have made mistakes in all those relationships, and I will continue to do so while still breathing. I just pray that as I get to know Jesus more, they will see a woman who owned her mistakes and kept growing closer to Jesus.