Away in a Manger Baby

by Jennifer Smith

Tomorrow I will be 37. I will not have a party and probably not a cake, either. And that’s okay. This season of my life puts me firmly in the deep throes of motherhood. I’m currently nursing three sick children. There is a shelf in my refrigerator that is entirely devoted to pink medicine for each of my sons. I have cleaned up at least three throw up incidents and have had various bodily fluids dripping down my shirt.

I certainly do not feel precious.

But I remember a time when I was. I was three. I stood up on the stage at my little country church and with a microphone in my chubby little hands sang Away in a Manger for our church Christmas service. 

Would you believe me if I told you I remember it fairly well? I remember exactly where I stood. I remember clearly singing my verse. I remember the director having to take the microphone from said chubby hand because I wouldn’t give it up. I remember feeling loved, cherished, and special.

Completely precious.

I was the Away in a Manger Baby. Dearly and wholly loved in my red tights that could barely conceal the rolls of my fat little legs.

Last week this memory came to mind as I stood in my kitchen pouring coffee. The morning was rushed and I had no time to devote to Jesus and Scripture. (Because, hey, it doesn’t always happen. Guess what? Jesus still loves you.)

But I turned my mind toward Jesus and offered Him a few moments of thought. My thoughts were of worship and I felt compelled, out of the blue, to sing Away in a Manger. I sang the verse that goes:

Be near me, Lord Jesus

I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever

And love me, I pray

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care

And fit us for heaven to live with me there.

The song, the memory, they sting a bit.  Because I’m not that tiny, chubby girl anymore. I think of her and the knocks that will come her way. She’ll endure some hard and terrible things. Like most of us, life will get very scrappy looking. The grown up version of her feels tarnished and cold and worn out and roughed up.

But then, a knock on my heart as Jesus whispers:

You’re still my Away in a Manger Baby. 

You’re still precious in my sight.

Because of course I am.

And, friend, you are, too.

We may not see ourselves as precious and tender and spotless, but Jesus does. We may not see ourselves as lovable or sweet. 

But Jesus does.

In fact, I believe we are all the more precious to Him because of our worn-out-ness. Because of our hard places. I think we are now loved differently by Him. Not more or better, but differently. Because we’ve tried and tested and pleaded and cried. He’s seen the hurts and He’s doctored them. As any long term relationship deepens, so has ours with our Savior.

My three year old, cute as a button self was dearly loved. But she had no idea how much.

This grown up woman does. This woman has walked a road requiring great faith and Jesus has met her every step of the way. He has seen her faith and belief. He knows of her great love for the Baby in the Manger. 

When she sings the song today, it might not look as cute or be on a stage in front of adoring faces, but it is felt and sung to the Manger Baby with as much worship and heart as she can muster. Her song at the coffee pot. 

Friend, just because life has worn us in some places does not make us less lovable. Just because life can make us feel cold does not make our Savior cold toward us. Just because another birthday rolls around does not take away my rank of being His precious child.

Oh, to see how much we are loved, all of us Away in a Manger Babies. So dearly loved by the Baby in the Manger.

Out Sing the Birds

Standing under the dogwood, a whistle, sharp and solid, flies on the breeze to my ear. A cadence of piercing birdsong spanning for several minutes- this bird has something to say. I make my way through the trees, trying to match my sight to the sound. His music fascinates me as he praises his Creator with a melody both lovely and pure. Finally, I spot him in the old walnut tree near the edge of the woods. Perched on the highest limb, his call as bold as his bright red feathers. He knows Who his song is for.

I wish I lived life this way. In certainty of my identity. Brave enough to stand on the highest branch, singing my song without the least concern of what the blue jays or robins or sparrows of nearby trees may think.

The red bird's song is sure and heartfelt.

I want my song to be sure and heartfelt.

And, in that moment, I refuse to let him out sing me.

So I begin filing through the music in my brain. What song do I sing?

What can I proclaim to this early springtime forest, that is alive and dancing in sunlight and birdsong and breezes, that could add even an ounce of beauty?

And so I sing the only thought that makes me fly to the top of the tree and sing my clearest and best.

Jesus loves me. 
This I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong.
They are weak, but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.

And with my song sung to the end, the red bird opens his wings and takes flight over my head and into the thick trees. Having listened to God’s own child declare her praises, he knew. His clear, instinctive melody of worship was no match for the voluntary praise of a precious daughter, clothed in Jesus’ own righteousness. So he flew, knowing he is no match for the human heart. And he and I, red bird and God’s redeemed, both learn what our Creator already knows:

I can out sing the bird.

Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord from the heavens;

    praise him in the heights above.

2 Praise him, all his angels;

    praise him, all his heavenly hosts.

3 Praise him, sun and moon;

    praise him, all you shining stars.

4 Praise him, you highest heavens

    and you waters above the skies.

5 Let them praise the name of the Lord,

    for at his command they were created,

6 and he established them for ever and ever—

    he issued a decree that will never pass away.

7 Praise the Lord from the earth,

    you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

8 lightning and hail, snow and clouds,

    stormy winds that do his bidding,

9 you mountains and all hills,

    fruit trees and all cedars,

10 wild animals and all cattle,

    small creatures and flying birds,

11 kings of the earth and all nations,

    you princes and all rulers on earth,

12 young men and women,

    old men and children.

13 Let them praise the name of the Lord,

    for his name alone is exalted;

    his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.

14 And he has raised up for his people a horn,

    the praise of all his faithful servants,

    of Israel, the people close to his heart.

Praise the Lord.

Psalm 148

God Still Loves Me, Even if I Eat Nachos. {A True Story.}

I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect.

And the last time I checked I was a human being and incapable of perfection.

So why do I still expect so much from myself? I'm going to fail, going to falter. Then, when perfection isn't obtained, the guilt quickly takes up the space I'd reserved for all of my perfect deeds.

In recent weeks I've decided to dedicate some things to God. This includes a certain time of prayer and fasting.

But yesterday.

It just didn't happen.

I was tired. I was, yes I'll say it, hormonal. I wasn't feeling prayer or fasting. I was weak in mind and weak in body.

And there was no follow-through of the spiritual goals I'd set for the day. I ate graham crackers, cookies, several pieces of chocolate.

Nachos.

I ate nachos.

My day of perfectly diligent spirituality did not go as planned.

And, you know what? That's okay.

My six year old son came into my classroom at the end of the school day. We sat at my reading table and pulled out his homework. As he unscrambled spelling words and completed a place value worksheet my momma-eyes soaked him in. His sweet face that looks so much like his daddy, but with my blue eyes. His awesome curly blonde hair that automatically makes him the coolest person in any room. I was awash in love. I pulled him close and kissed him. Hugged him. Told him how special he was.

That's how I look at you, beloved.

And my imperfect heart with imperfect intentions was struck.

I am loved just as I am. On my good days, on my bad days, on my faithful days, on  my failure days.

I am loved.

You are loved.

There is nothing in this world or out of this world that can separate us from God's love. Read Romans 8:31-39 with me:

So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:

They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.

We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.

We have been embraced by perfect love and thereby set free from any pressure we may put on ourselves. Because those things that can't separate us from God? That includes us. Sometimes we're our own worst enemy, thinking we're falling short and feeling guilty for it.

Friends, we do fall short. We all fall short every day. Romans 3:23 tells us all have sinned and fall short of God's glory. Perfection isn't ours. Perfection belongs to our precious Jesus who loves us with such abandon that He abandoned everything to claim us. Romans 3 goes on to say that even though we fall short we are still justified freely by the grace of Christ Jesus.

So strive for goodness, yes. Do the tasks that God has commanded, yes. Carry your cross, yes. But on those days where you didn't quite hit the mark and you ate the nachos, know that you are loved still.

Perfectly imperfect you. Perfectly loved by perfect grace.

Begin Again

I ain't gonna lie: this teacher loves her some summer vacation. Time with my own kids, no bed times, trips to the beach. Days where the only thing on the To Do List is to breathe.

During summer I not only recover from the previous school year (Yes, I said, recover. Teaching is hard, y'all.), but I recharge my batteries for the upcoming school year. See, that's the greatest thing about being a teacher - there's always the chance to begin again. Because when I'm staying up late, beaching, and breathing I'm also planning. Planning ways I can make the next year even better. From bulletin boards to lesson plans to relationships, I reflect on ways I could be different.

What a blessing. Every year the clock is reset and I get to begin again.

There are places in all of our lives, teachers or not, where a reset button would be nice. Relationships, finances, attitudes, decisions. And in some ways these new beginnings are much easier to make. I begin again in August.

You can begin again today.

So what is it, friend? What part of your life do you need to reset? Return to start? Find the largest eraser possible and rub out?

Let today be the day you begin again.

2 Corinthians 5:17 says, "This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!"

God is faithful to make us into something entirely new and fresh when we come to Him in Jesus' Name. He is faithful to not only supply salvation, but to help you repair those areas of your life that haven't been working.

That's the beautiful thing about living life in Jesus' Name: it's never too late. As long as you have breath in your lungs and a beat in your chest, it's not too late to wipe the slate clean and start anew. Even if what you need to begin again is your relationship with Him. 

This time of year I think of my teacher friends who are retiring. I'm sure there's uncertainty in what their classroom-free lives will look like; a bittersweet goodbye to a long career. But, oh, the excitement in their fresh start, their renewal.

New beginnings are scary, but they carry with them the hope of something good, something different. Something better.

August is my restart date. My new, different, even better school year. But let today be yours.

Beloved, begin again.

Lord, may it be so.

He Speaks

What does it sound like when God speaks? Is it crashes and booms? A thunderous deep voice that sounds like James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman combined? Does God have a British accent?

It seems these are the ways the voice of God is portrayed. And I don't know, maybe sometimes He speaks this way. But in all personal stories I've heard, including my own, God's voice sounds nothing like Darth Vader.

So He said, "Go forth and stand on the mountain before the LORD." And behold, the LORD was passing by! And a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12After the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of a gentle whisper. 13When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. And behold, a voice came to him and said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

1 Kings 19:11-13

Did you catch it? God's voice wasn't found in the gale force winds, the earthquake, or the fire. 

His voice was the whisper. The soft, gentle whisper to His beloved Elijah.

Just as God gives individual gifts to every human being, He speaks to us in individual ways. Ways that only our person would understand. Ways that only you would pay attention to. Jesus always spoke to the individual in topics and settings that person would connect with. He'll do the same for you. God seeks to speak your language.

For me? It's birdsong. Even now I hear a happy sparrow outside my bedroom window. My heart swells hearing that little bird, knowing his song and my heart are one in worship. I have heard birdsong in times when I've needed comfort, healing, or an outlet to express joy. This is God's voice to me. His presence shared.

I'm a big believer that those who belong to God are not subject to coincidence. Your God is intentional with every detail of your day. If a certain song comes on the radio, or a special friend who you were just thinking of calls, or you simply see a repeated word throughout the course of a day: this is God speaking.

Our culture has told us that God speaks in thunderstorms. Any maybe sometimes that's true. But I believe God mostly speaks in delightful morning mists: a barely there sensation, but enough to renew and refresh.

When God spoke in 1 Kings 19 He asked a question - but He also spoke a name: "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

He calls us by name in His gentle whisper.

We learn in the rest of this passage that Elijah was in fear for His life and that He was seeking the protection and solace of God. God provided this for Elijah in abundance. He does this for us, too. He shares with us that His might and glory are powerful enough to reshape mountains through wind, earthquake, and fire. This is the greatness of God.

But when He speaks to us, His beloved, He stoops down, takes us gently by the hand and whispers, "Darling, I am here. How can I help you?" This is the goodness of God.

So here is your challenge, friend. Knowing that God speaks to you - how does He do it? I'd love if you'd share in the comments or on Facebook.

He is your Shepherd. You are His sheep. You know His voice. (John 10:27)

Lord, may it be so.

Space to Rest

May this weekend give you space to rest and seek out the truth in the Word of God.

Look for remembrance in the resemblance of all creation. Take time to stop and ponder the design of all the dwells among us.

Listen:



A beautiful song that reminds us to rest in what we've already been promised.

Make something fun with fresh spring herbs.




Use cans or recycled containers and paint them with fun colors and designs. Keep them indoors near sunlight. When they outgrow your containers, make space outside for your herbs to root and spread their fragrant beauty.