Crystal Kershaw

If we were to diagram the love Christ showed through his incarnational appearance in a manger and horrific death, we would draw a direct line from him to us. We are the direct object of his incredible descent into humanity, and his humiliation on a cross.

Often in life, I’m confronted by an immediate need. It’s the need to know Christ’s presence–the need to trust him in a hard place.

It was a cute piece–a small wooden platter with a cross-stitched inset. The visual featured a bright bowl of fruit, highlighting a heartwarming psalm quoted beneath it.

As I examine my heart, I have to admit I’ve discriminated against a particular group of people. I disrespected them based on input I received from others–what I was taught and read, not personal experience.

It was a rough session–they’ve been rough lately.  The woman on the other side of the screen is caught in an intense struggle with insurmountable health issues.  They affect her in countless ways, in each of her roles as a young wife, mother, friend, and daughter.  They shatter her sense of self, her personal security, and her view of God’s providence.  She’s tried everything she can think of to improve her situation, to no avail. The mystery of her struggle confounds every doctor and specialist she’s seen.

I am married to a mechanical engineer– a preventive maintenance specialist who assesses the health of motor engines, ancillary systems, and production lines. It’s all about the process. 

Students of history generally find themselves drawn to certain time periods. Something about the people and powers of those moments fascinates, and they are drawn to the art, literature, and customs of a certain age. For me, this is the Renaissance. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about flow lately. A new season of life has me setting new rhythms and mapping out new patterns for my schedule. A colleague mentioned workflow in a recent meeting–brainstorming how to squeeze the most out of each workday. 

Telling stories requires choosing which details and bits of dialogue do best to build the visual for a reader. Flowery details sometimes overtake the plot. Odd words lead to distraction. Wise writers pick and choose.

It was a blatant lie, a stunning one really, flashing there on the electronic billboard for all to see. I’m used to the manipulations of marketing, and how misleading images can subtly deceive. But this message, though well-intentioned, seemed far more destructive.

It’s fascinating to watch a blacksmith forge a chain. Each link is carefully intertwined, bonded by heat, hammered together with pressure.