And so we launch out on the ocean of the year, presuming that the wind filling our sails will carry us to joy and not disaster. We’ve made ourselves shipshape, or so we say. We’ve thrown a handful of bad habits overboard; resolved to never navigate in fog; promised ourselves that, for the first time in forever, we’ll stay steady—patient—with the wheel. We think the future, like the rudder, is firmly in our hands.

But who can fathom what the new year brings? There are uncertainties much deeper than the weather—of gain and loss, of pain and growth, of racing days and windless days. As the psalmist said centuries ago, “We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing. We heap up wealth, not knowing who will spend it. And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in You” (Psa 39:6-7).

So trust the navigation of your life to the One who “made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and everything in them” (Ex 20:11). He needs no North Star, nor a Southern Cross to chart your way, for “He also made the stars” (Gen 1:16). His hand, not yours, upon the wheel, will bring your ship into the harbor of companionship and grace.

We either trust the grace of God, or settle for uncertainty. “Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you” (Deut 31:8).

So move—and stay—in grace. -Bill Knott

            The waning days of this old year remind us we ought never walk alone. We need three things to end December: forgiveness for the wrongs we’ve done; the healing of our wounded memories; assurances that we will have safe company in days and miles ahead.

            The gospel tells us we have all of these in Jesus. His blood alone removes our shame and stains. His reconciliation shields us from hard-earned, high-priced bitterness. His promise to stay with us—in every hour, in every age—gives courage on dark nights, and lifts our hearts when we can’t know the future.

            By grace, we walk away from sins—our sins, and those done to us through the pettiness or animus of others. By grace, we lose the need to sanctify our scars, or grimly tell our tales of injury. By grace, we stretch a hand into the as-yet-unknown future—and discover, to our joy, that we are grasped and held and loved and valued by the Lord who walks beside us.

We dare not make this crossing by ourselves, for we will either fall back into what has been, or hide in fear of what may be. The grace of Jesus makes the new year safe for pilgrims walking homeward. “I will never leave you or forsake you,” (Heb 13:5) Jesus says to all who journey with Him.

            And for this moment, month, or year, our hearts are light, our spirits high. The road ahead is rich with kindness and companions.

            So stay in grace.

When poets have run out of words, and composers call no melodies to mind; when preachers have re-told the old, familiar story; when massive choirs have sung the final hallelujah—there still will be a mystery at the center of it all.

Grace moved a God of love to do what is unthinkable to us—to surrender all His privileges and power; constrict his vast galactic reach—to enter our tight time and space, and share our mud and feel our pain. Describe it, sing it, preach it if you can, but nothing but the love of God explains the grace of God. “Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of our religion” (1 Tim 3:16).

The gifts we share on Christmas Day are, at their best, dull mirrors of a gift only our God could give. Only He who fills eternity could give a life that lasts forever. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16).

Hidden in the boxes and the bows are gadgets that will make us smile, or foods that tempt our palate, or promises of trips we long to take. But let us pause the music and the laughter long enough to wonder at the gift for which there is no counterpart: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19). “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us” (Luke 2:15).

Grace is the gift that changes both our now and our forever.

So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We are not wise like magi, 

Or powerful like Herod.

And few can claim nobility 

By birth or social climbing. 

But God—this Child who sleeps in straw—

Has chosen us to worship at His cradle. 

So we rejoice in commonness; 

We gladly play the fool for Him. 

For we have glimpsed in Bethlehem

The power that holds all things together—

The love that seeks us out, surrounds us, will not let us go. 

We stand in warm, strong light that cannot be extinguished;

“For the light shines in the darkness,

And the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

We revel in the victories grace has won,

Is winning,

And will win. 

There is no doubt—nor can there be—about the final outcome.

So come, now:  bend the knee.

Lean forward with a glowing heart. 

This is an hour for adoration.

And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We trade our gifts on Christmas Eve, or Christmas morn, or some convenient holiday. We wait to see a grateful smile, or wide-eyed wonder on a child’s face—all quietly aware our turn is next: the next gift will be handed us.

And though this pageant brings us joy, and warms our hearts, we dare not say it represents the gospel, even though it’s full of gifts. Our calculations typically are tuned to give of equal value. We won’t embarrass others with extravagance that they can’t match, nor do we like the debt we feel when we receive “too much.”

But heaven gave extravagantly when heaven gave us Jesus. He came with nothing in His hands but everything—all riches—in His heart. His greatest joy is in our joy—and in our inability to trade Him anything in return.

Grace is a gift we cannot earn, and don’t deserve, and can’t repay. We don’t make things “even” by obedience, or costly sums, or kindly deeds that lessen obligation. He who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills”—and all the hills—isn’t seeking reciprocity.

Accept the gift. Embrace the Child. Be overwhelmed with joy.

And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

“Away in a manger

No crib for His bed . . .”

It staggers imagination that the Lord of life, the Creator of all that is, found His first bed neither in a warmed obstetrics ward nor in a baby’s well-built crib. His reality was far more primitive than all the gilded mangers which adorn displays in churches or millions of homes this Christmas.

The manger in which Jesus slept His first hour was almost certainly a shallow bowl carved into the rock floor of a cave or lean-to shelter—quite literally, a hole in the ground from which the livestock ate. It was the lowest of low places, the symbol of how low grace will stoop to live with us and be one of us. And you will recall that at the other end of His life, Jesus was—temporarily—laid in another hole in the ground—a tomb carved from the rock face of a cliff.

There is a special symmetry in this, for grace seeks out “the lowly and despised things of this world” (1 Cor 1:28) to illustrate that no one is beneath the saving love of God. The worst, the lowest thing you’ve done is still redeemable because of grace. The best and highest thing you’ll do is only possible through grace.

Grace moved low to lift us up. So stay in it.

-Bill Knott

The act of giving thanks—whispered at each common meal, or once a year at family dinners on big holidays—is an early, hopeful flag that grace has come to live with us. For a moment—for one long, exhaling moment—we acknowledge the truth of what the apostle wrote 2000 years ago:  “You are not your own:  you have been bought with a price”  (I Cor 6:19-20). For an instant, the guard is down, the drawbridge open, and we admit that we aren’t self-made or even self-sustained.  The castle of our lives has always had a Guardian, a Protector.  All that we are, and all we have, and every structure that secures us has been given, not deserved.  Even what we say we’ve “earned” is undeniably built on gifts too numerous to count. When I say “thanks,” I confess that there is something—Someone—wider, bigger, and more gracious than any defense I muster or every good I do.  So we learn grace through gratitude.  And even as we teach our children to “Say thank-you,” the Spirit prompts us each to murmur private “Hallelujahs.” Throw wide the gates, and cross the moat. Release yourself.  And stay in grace. -

In all those moments in between—when idling in slow traffic; or stuck in dull, unhappy meetings; or waiting for the sound of tires rolling up the drive—our thoughts revert to what we’ve missed.  Where would we rather be?  With whom would we prefer to talk? Why must our time be wasted?

But the God of every moment—even dull, unhappy ones—offers us His presence and His care. “I have loved you, My people, with an everlasting love,” He says. (Jer 31:3). “Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28).

The grace of God is still our gift when schedules lag and people disappoint and time hangs heavy on our hands. There is no hour Christ will not share; no hidden grief He cannot bear; no pause in all His patient care.

Remember now how much you’re loved. And when you wait, then stay in grace.

Thankfulness is all about our expectations. So long as we think we deserve to be healthy—physically, financially—and that a sick body or an empty wallet is an injustice done to us, we’ll never feel all that grateful when God heals us. If God owes it to us to make and keep us healthy and wealthy, why should we thank Him for it?

But if we grasp the deep sacredness of living—that every moment is a gift from the Father’s hand—then everything in us will sing of everything God is doing for us. Every illness overcome; every bank account that didn’t run dry; every wounded relationship healed is a special act of grace. We deserved none of these good things: we’ve been given all these good things.

“O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise” (Ps 51:5).

So stay in gratitude—and grace.

-Bill Knott

Describe the life you’ve always wanted in three simple nouns—no more.

Love, Power, and Excitement.

Wealth, Opportunity, and Fame.

Friends, Risk, and Excellence.

Now try three more—all rooted in a common gift: Grace, Gratitude, and Graciousness.

Grace is how we came to be—and saves us from what we have become. “God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure.So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son.  He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins” (Eph 1:5-8).

And gratitude is an intelligent, mature response to all that that God has gifted us in Jesus. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God” (Col 3:16).

Graciousness is how we live as loved and honored people—with empathy and gentleness, forgiving as we’ve been forgiven. “Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone” (Col 4:6).

Choose wisely when you pick your nouns. Your destiny depends on them.

And stay in grace.