December 25. Charles Schulz. Schulz was an American cartoonist with a sense of dignity and the power of his work. In 1950, he published the first-ever Peanuts comic strip. It was well-written, well-drawn, and well-loved around the world. People enjoyed the Peanuts cartoons because they addressed deep and complex issues that many people face. The humor served a high purpose, and served it well. 

Schulz had originally named his strip Li’l Folks, but the syndicate changed the name to Peanuts. Later, in an interview, Schulz said: “[The name Peanuts is] totally ridiculous, has no meaning, is simply confusing, and has no dignity—and I think my humor has dignity.” 

And he had dignified fans. President Ronald Reagan once wrote to Schulz and said that the president identified with Charlie Brown. And the 1969 Apollo 10 command module was named Charlie Brown and a lunar module was named Snoopy. Today’s story shows Schulz at his dignified work. 

When you have the boldness to be authentic, people pay attention. 

Schulz kept it real. Whatever he produced was authentic. Whatever he produced could wrestle with life’s biggest questions—and it should!—as long as it resisted the temptation to skim the surface. 

Consider: A Charlie Brown Christmas—the Peanuts classic. Before that first airing, television executives called it “flat.” And it only aired at all because, sponsored by Coca-Cola, it was on the docket. 

Even Schulz’s own team thought it was doomed. After watching it for the first time, one of them said, “I think we’ve ruined Charlie Brown.” 

Yet when it aired that historic Thursday night in 1965, A Charlie Brown Christmas captured nearly half of the television-viewing audience. Soon it won the Peabody Award and an Emmy. 

Now, more than fifty years later, many families consider this cartoon to be the official start of their Christmas celebration. 

According to the method of the day, with A Charlie Brown Christmas, Schulz and his team did everything wrong. At the time, less than nine percent of television shows had religious content, but Schulz insisted that the real story of Christmas be shared. 

“That night some shepherds were in the fields outside the village, guarding their flocks of sheep. Suddenly an angel appeared among them, and the landscape shone bright with the glory of the Lord. They were badly frightened, but the angel reassured them. 

“‘Don’t be afraid!’ he said. ‘I bring you the most joyful news ever announced, and it is for everyone! The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born tonight in Bethlehem! How will you recognize him? You will find a baby wrapped in a blanket, lying in a manger!’ 

“Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God: “‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,’ they sang, ‘and peace on earth for all those pleasing him’” (Luke 2:8–14 TLB). 

“If we’re doing this show … I’m going to add some meaning to it. I don’t want it just to be something funny.… I think we should talk about the true meaning of Christmas—at least what it means to me.” 

The director pushed back. “This is religion. It just doesn’t go in a cartoon.” 

Schulz’s retort was firm. “If we don’t do it, who will?” 

When a team member assumed there would be a laugh track, Schulz simply got up and left the room. No discussion. 

Later, critics complained about the jazz music track. Using children instead of adults to do the voices was said to make the show “amateurish.” But A Charlie Brown Christmas worked. Perhaps a better description would be, “It’s authentic.” 

Schulz knew a thing or two about authenticity. For years, his comic strip had been an extension of his personal journey. Charlie Brown, with his introspection and self-doubt, had grown out of Schulz’s struggle. 

He was put two years ahead in school, which made him the perfect target for bullying. Like Charlie Brown, he had often felt left out. After returning home from military service during World War II, Schulz got serious about faith. 

Always one to dig deep, he spent hours studying the Bible, marking up the margins, circling key words, and writing personal insights. As he journeyed and questioned, so did his characters. In 1985 Sally asked, “When we die, will we go to heaven?” 

Charlie responded, “I like to think so.” 

A bit of an enigma, Schulz was never happier than when he had a good idea, was drawing it well, and someone laughed at it. At the same time, he wasn’t satisfied unless his work had depth. 

“I hate shallow humor,” he said. “I hate shallow religious humor, I hate shallow sports humor, I hate shallowness of any kind.” 

For decades Charlie Brown and the gang made society think about the big questions—and a whole culture was impacted. 

“Anybody who is writing finds he puts a little bit of himself in all of the characters, at least in this kind of a strip,” said Schulz. “You have to put yourself, all of your thoughts, all of your observations and everything you know into the strip.” 

Do you put your authentic self into your work? When you have the boldness to be authentic, people pay attention. 

Solomon, Charles and Lee Mendelson. The Art of Making Peanuts Animation: Celebrating Fifty Years of Television Specials. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2012. 

Lind, Stephen J. A Charlie Brown Religion: Exploring the Spiritual Life and Work of Charles M. Schulz (Great Comics Artists Series)Mississippi: University Press of Mississippi, November 4, 2015. 

Townsend, Allie. TIME. “Q&A: Charlie Brown Christmas Producer Lee Mendelson.” Published December 23, 2011. https://entertainment.time.com/2011/12/23/qa-charlie-brown-christmas-producer-lee-mendelson/. 

Inge, M. Thomas, editor.  Charles M. Schulz: Conversations. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2000. Charles M Schulz Museum. “The Life of Charles M Schulz.” Accessed July 7, 2020. https://schulzmuseum.org/timeline/

Story read by Joel Carpenter

December 24. Samuel Naaman. Born in Pakistan, Samuel is the son of a Muslim extremist who became a Christian at an early age and raised his children as Christians. 

In Pakistan, Samuel said, though Muslims may deny it, Christians are legally second-class citizens. “That’s how we are raised … We live in persecution forever and ever and ever … That’s the way things are. This is the legacy of believers in Pakistan.” 

When Samuel was first dedicated to the Lord, he had told his father that Christianity was not the way he would go. 

“We were used to missionaries,” Samuel said. “They came. They had their meetings, but—” (You can imagine Samuel shrugging. These things didn’t impact him.) 

But in February, 1980, a team of Christian young people—just a little bit older than Samuel—showed up and spent their days in the streets talking to people. And in the evenings the young people preached Jesus with boldness and great joy. “I saw these young ‘dudes’ … fired up for Jesus. I asked myself, ‘How come they have this passion, and I don’t?’” 

Samuel went forward, received the saving grace of Jesus, changed majors, and joined Operation Mobilization. Now, more than forty years later, Professor Samuel Naaman teaches at Moody Bible Institute and is President and Co-founder of the South Asian Friendship Center. 

In today’s story Samuel is speaking with a former student. 

When we give our anger to the Lord, He replaces it with peace. 

“It was thirty years ago today, actually.” Samuel’s voice caught. 

A minute of silence. 

Gathering himself, he continued to speak in his strong Pakistani accent. 

“It just took one bullet, and my brother paid the ultimate price for sharing the Gospel.” 

Pakistani brothers, Samuel and Joseph, worked together as evangelists, giving out Bibles and preaching the Good News throughout cities and villages in Pakistan. 

Often seen as a threat by Muslim religious extremists, this was dangerous work. And one day, it became deadly. 

On June 2, 1990, an extremist group shot and killed Joseph. 

Devastated, Samuel grieved. He was in pain. And he felt tempted to give into bitterness. But God’s love was more powerful. Samuel trusted the Good News of Jesus, and his trust grew stronger. He made up his mind to continue the work his brother had given his life for. 

“The commitment and calling of the Lord never change,” Samuel says. 

He went on to minister in countries all around the world, before he settled in Chicago to run a center for South Asian immigrants. 

“There were hard times. I have been thrown in jail. I have been depressed, sometimes. But I keep moving. It is not about numbers. I go after one. Can I influence one to find Christ? Let me tell you a story about one …” 

Samuel’s story began in The South Asian Friendship Center, located in the heart of the Indian and Middle Eastern section of Chicago. To the many immigrant visitors, the Christian Center offered English classes, books in many different languages, help with paperwork, and free cups of chai or Indian-spiced tea. 

Over one of those cups of tea, Samuel met Ram. Recently arrived in Chicago from India, Ram was after the American Dream—or so he said. 

Interested in the books for sale, Ram had wandered into the Center. When he realized he was in a Christian-run organization, he became incensed and verbally raged against Christianity. 

Samuel’s co-worker, David, was taken aback by Ram’s forcefulness. But Samuel, who shared a similar culture with Ram, gently explained to Ram that Hollywood movies were not reality, and they were certainly not an accurate representation of Christianity. 

Nevertheless, Ram continued to argue against the Christian faith. Day after day—for weeks—Ram came to the Center, took his cup of chai tea, and sat to begin his arguments. And Samuel never pushed back. He quietly listened, poured tea, and became a real friend to Ram. 

Finally, Samuel told David, “I feel Ram is ready to hear the gospel message.” 

David was shocked. There was no way Ram was ready! 

But Samuel was confident. “He has emptied himself of all his anger and bitterness. He is ready to be filled with the message of the hope of Jesus.” 

It was hard to imagine how Samuel had hope for this oppositional man. 

Samuel explained, “I could see that Ram wasn’t just arguing to claim victory. He came so often to talk to us because he really wanted to know. He really wanted answers. His heart was open. And we were filling his need for fellowship.” 

Samuel and David asked Ram if he would be interested in finding the answers to his questions in the Bible. 

That’s when Ram admitted he had fled India to escape serious problems. He was on the verge of buying a Bible in the bookstore the first day he had come to the Center, but his anger at Christians got in the way. He eagerly accepted the idea of studying the Bible. 

A few weeks after hearing the gospel, waving his wallet, Ram burst into the Center. 

“I prayed to Jesus! And He heard me! I lost my wallet on the street, and I prayed I would find it, and there it was blocks and blocks away, laying there on the sidewalk. And all my money is still there!” 

Ram announced that he would like to be a follower of Jesus. Through genuine friendship, the Word of God, and an answer to a simple prayer, Ram’s anger and bitterness left. In their place, he was filled with the peace he had been searching for. 

One violent act of focused anger and a bullet left Samuel missing a beloved brother. But he let God’s love fill that emptiness. Then Samuel took that patient love, gave it to one angry man, and gained another brother. 

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7 NIV). 

Have you experienced loss? Has anger filled a hole in your life? Read the Word of God, find a caring friend who listens, and ask God to empty out the anger and fill you with love that overflows into the lives of others. 

When we give our anger to the Lord, He replaces it with peace. 

Based on an interview with Doctor Samuel Naaman, June 2, 2020.  

Story read by Daniel Carpenter 

December 23. Rich Mullins. Rich grew up on a farm, but early on, he fell in love with music. His mother and great-grandmother were Quakers, and—when Rich was very young—great-grandma gave Rich his own Bible. Of course, she had ripped out Song of Solomon and told him he could read that when he was older. 

About going away to Bible college, Rich wrote: “I felt sad, because I was getting ready to go to a Bible school …, and yet most of my friends didn’t even know about my faith. So … I sang for them … because I wanted them to hear the message about God.” 

On this date in 1978, Rich performed “You Gotta Get Up” at a Christmas Concert. He won multiple Dove Awards, including Artist of the Year, Song of the Year, and Songwriter of the Year. 

When he was forty, he basically walked away from fame and went to live and serve on a Navajo reservation. When people accused him of being afraid of success, Rich said, “I don’t know if I’m afraid of success; I might be. I tend to think success is overrated, that it’s something everybody goes after until they get it, then nobody knows what to do with it. Your life speaks louder than your music.… I can make records for the rest of my life and talk about love, but it won’t mean anything until I love somebody.” 

Pain can be life’s wrecking ball. Confront the pain and stop the demolition.  

For singer-songwriter Rich, words typically came easy. But not tonight. 

Rich threw the pen across the room. Yesterday, to kick-off this three-day retreat, his mentor Brennan Manning had Rich write a letter to his father—his father who had died some time back. Tonight, Rich was supposed to write from his father to himself. 

But how could he? He had never even heard his father say, “I love you.” 

Rich—his dad had called him Wayne—still heard the echo of: Why is it that everything you touch always ends up busted? 

Rich tried to understand his dad. He even thought playing the dulcimer might connect him with his dad’s Appalachian roots. Rich loved the dulcimer, but music didn’t tame this demon. Neither did alcohol. 

Rich had never done anything but disappoint his dad because Rich had not been created to be a farmer. Rich sank into the chair. 

He had once thought following Jesus was about being good. But now he knew the truth: the “highest pursuit was not to be good, but to be God’s.” In his head, he knew God loved him, but in his heart, it felt like God was as disappointed in him as his dad had always been. Disappointed and disgusted. 

But he would do the assignment. He asked God to help him write as if from his dad, and Rich picked up the pen. 

But uncontrollable sobs racked Rich’s body. An ugly, holy mess. When they slowed, he tried again. 

Rich started the letter with the name his dad always called him: Wayne. On the paper appeared words Rich had heard his dad say: “being poor ain’t shameful—just inconvenient.”  

He wrote out what he knew was true. That his dad didn’t know he was supposed to be affectionate. That his dad knew work. Machinery. Calves. More work. That his dad couldn’t imagine that Rich’s machinery and calves were rhythm and poetry and song.  

Rich’s dad was sorry for causing him pain, and on the paper, he told Rich to be brave in his pain. Then he penned the words he’d waited a lifetime to hear: “I love you, your Dad.” 

Rich put down his pen. Tears streaming, he ran to the cabin behind his. He burst through the door. “Brennan, I’m free!” 

“‘Honor your father and mother’—which is the first commandment with a promise” (Ephesians 6:2 NIV). 

Do you allow pain to wreck any part of your life? Pain can be life’s wrecking ball. Confront the pain and stop the demolition.  

Cox, Michelle. “Interview with the Producers of ‘Ragamuffin’, The story of Rich Mullins.” Christian Cinema. April 24, 2014. https://www.christiancinema.com/catalog/newsdesk_info.php? newsdesk_id=2826. 

Smith, James Bryan. Rich Mullins: An Arrow Pointing to Heaven. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 2000. 

Story read by Peter R Warren, https://www.peterwarrenministries.com/ 

Would You Like to Learn More About This Man? 

To learn more of Rich Mullins story, watch, Ragamuffin, The Story of Rich Mullins, produced by his brother David Mullins and David Shultz, http://ragamuffinthemovie.com

December 22. Hugh McKail. When Hugh was 20 years old, he was ordained a pastor. When he was 21, the government ousted him from his church and called his preaching illegal. When he was 26, on this date in 1666, Hugh was executed because he refused to name the King of England the head of the Christian Church. This is how it happened. 

Fear God, and you won’t need to fear men. 

Excruciating pain overwhelmed Hugh, and he passed out. As he came to, he realized his abusers continued to hammer metal rods into his bone. His leg had been encased in the vice commonly known as the “boot” and was crushed between heavy slabs of wood. 

Still, he wouldn’t give in. He gritted his teeth and refused to divulge the names of his brothers and sisters, who stood their ground in their belief that Christ—not the government—was the head of the church. Hugh would never make an oath to the king, calling him the head of the church. He answered to God, not man. Hugh would remain true to the Lord and to his brethren, who outsiders called “the Covenanters.” 

Not long after being tortured, Hugh stood trial and was condemned to die by hanging. He said, “Fear of my neck makes me forget my leg. I am not so cumbered about dying as I have often been about preaching a sermon.”  

It had been a hard journey to reach the age of twenty-six, but not nearly as difficult as this journey to the scaffold. He crawled up the stairs, dragging his crushed leg, agony ripping through him. That first step reminded him of what had brought him to this place in time. 

It started with one particular sermon when he was twenty-one. After studying at Edinburgh, he learned about the conflict between the church and government. After all, Hugh’s own father had been forced out of the pulpit for not obeying King Charles’s unholy demands. 

In 1661, Hugh got his license to preach and gained many followers. In that first year, he spoke out eloquently against the tyrannical government. He said, “The Church is persecuted by a Pharaoh on the throne, a Haman in the State, and a Judas in the Church.” 

Everyone in the community understood the Bible references: Pharaoh had enslaved and persecuted the Jews, Haman plotted to wipe them out, and Judas had betrayed Jesus with a kiss. 

Not long after that sermon, Hugh escaped to Holland. He stayed for three years until, longing for home, he finally returned to his beloved Scotland. Sadly, nothing had changed. Men, women, and even worse, the elderly and children suffered the cruelty of the British army. 

Because of this, Hugh joined the rebellion, but illness weakened him on his trek to battle, so he turned back and made his way to Edinburgh, where he was captured. Not for joining the rebellion, but for preaching that one sermon. 

Finally, he had reached the top of the scaffold and crawled to the wooden pole from which swung his noose. As he pulled himself up onto his good leg, he spoke his final words: “Now I leave off to speak any more with created beings and begin my communion with God, which shall never be broken off. Farewell, father and mothers, friends and relations! Farewell, the world and all delights! Farewell meat and drink! Farewell, sun, moon and stars! Welcome, God and Father! Welcome, sweet Lord Jesus, the mediator of the New Covenant! Welcome, blessed Spirit of grace, God of all consolation! Welcome glory! Welcome eternal life! Welcome death!” 

“Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28 NASB). 

Has fear ever kept you from speaking truth? What step can you take this week to prepare for such a moment? Fear God, and you won’t need to fear men. 

Archivist. “December 22: Hugh McKail Martyred (1666).” This Day in Presbyterian History. December 22, 2015. http://​www.thisday.pcahistory.org/​2015/​12/​december-22–2/

Stephen, Leslie and Sidney Lee. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 1885–1900, Volume 35. United Kingdom: Oxford University Press, 2004. 

The Newsroom. “A Heart of Darkness.” The Scotsman. February 18, 2008. https://www.scotsman.com/news/heart-darkness-2452322. 

Story read by Nathan Walker 

Story written by Sandi Rog, http://www.sandirog.com/ 

December 21. Stefano “Verbo” Disalvo. Verbo left school to go all-in on Blizzard Entertainment’s popular team-based first-person shooter game named Overwatch.

And he had multiple, multiple first-place wins in online gaming—along with the fame and money that came with. Here’s a 2017 tweet from Verbo: “It is not confidence from within myself, but confidence in him who will strengthen me and provide the skills needed to perform his will.” On this date in 2016, Verbo joined the Immortals, a massive gaming organization.

Success is not defined by your status, but by who you are as a person.

It started with a Game Boy and a computer he had gotten from his mom, but when he saw competitive online gaming, Verbo knew that’s where he wanted to be.

What started as a hobby turned into a professional e-sports career. And—for the popular video game Overwatch—Verbo became known as one of the best support players in the world. Disalvo’s gamer name is “Verbo” and means “word of God.”

Verbo’s career took off. Wins and championship titles in the Overwatch League added to his already impressive resume. His testimony and story spread through interviews and articles on an international level.

Despite his youth, Verbo was at the top of his game. He was climbing up the mountain and going higher and higher in his status as a gamer.

But after a year and a half, things started to change. Wins started to become losses. Championships were lost. Fame began to wane. And as new, talented players joined the league, Verbo found himself struggling to keep up.

The losses shook Verbo’s confidence. When he won, he felt happy. When he did his best and inspired other players, he saw his life as successful. But when he lost, he found his joy weakened. When his performance wasn’t the best, his confidence turned into insecurity.

Verbo’s desire in Overwatch was to shine in the spotlight for God. He wanted to use his talents and gifts for a good cause, so why was he no longer finding success?

The inner turmoil weighed heavy on his heart, and the mountains he used to climb so high now led him down into a valley. Verbo wondered if he had made a mistake in placing such a high priority on his stats and performance as a gamer.

In the end, the world’s definition of success didn’t bring him joy. It didn’t allow him to see himself as a valuable person. It didn’t give him anything he could count on.

Verbo’s career proved that the world’s version of success was always changing. Wins and high scores were never guaranteed, and talent could be found in plenty of places.

Things like career, material possessions, appearance, even the people in his life—all of those could change. If success was based on something that could be taken away, was the foundation he had built his identity on really that stable?

Verbo realized he needed to re-define success and find his identity in something more stable.

Success had to be tied to who he was as a man.

Character—he had plenty of that. Hard work. Integrity. Motivation. And most importantly, Christ.

Verbo didn’t find the change easy, especially after he had been used to so much winning. He had to be consistent in his decision and focus. He had to ask himself what was really important to him. Why he was competing?

He also found a new way to cope with the losses: they weren’t obstacles any more. They were his new stepping stones to growth. They could be accepted, even welcomed.

“A firm understanding of who I am is what keeps me grounded and content,” he said. “Navigating through ups and downs of my career is knowing to enjoy and cherish the ups, but also to be humble enough to ride the process of the lows, and to grow as much as possible.”

Verbo decided to stay in the Overwatch League, working as a team general manager. And now he can take the lessons he’s learned and help the men on his team grow, too. “Success for me is using what I’ve learned in the highs and lows of my past experiences to push the guys on the team I’m managing forward.”

“My performance doesn’t define who I am,” he said. Instead, it became about who he was as a person, how he loved others, and the God who loved him—whether he won or lost. And with his confidence more secure than ever, Verbo knew he had finally found true success.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew NIV 21–:196).

Many struggles are the result of the wrong definition of success. Success is not defined by your status but by who you are as a person. Where do you need a new definition?

Based on an interview with Stefano “Verbo” Disalvo, August 8, 2019.

Disalvo, Stefano “Verbo”. “Where Do We Place Identity?” YouTube. July 31, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7zHvu_I1jQ.

Story read by Joel Carpenter

Would You Like to Learn More About This Man?

Verbo credits his success in gaming and in life to his faith. He says that through what he learned at church, he was able to succeed during a tough period in his life.

“Verbo” in Latin or Italian or Spanish means “word” and Verbo thinks of it as “The Word of God.”

December 20. AJ Freeman. After Freeman became totally blind, he heard the gospel from a nurse where he was hospitalized. He grabbed onto that word of truth and climbed out of a severe depression. 

From there, Freeman went to the School of the Blind and learned a craft—how to make brooms. Before long, he opened a factory and employed 15 men, who made 600 brooms a day for him. In his spare time, he preached the gospel. 

Freeman longed to preach the gospel, but he had to support his family, and—after all—he was blind.  

One day, he came home and found his 10-year-old daughter teaching a group of children about Jesus, and the children were responding. Freeman took this as confirmation of his calling, and he took his little daughter as his preaching partner and guide. On this date in 1903, Freeman was ordained in the Swedish Free Church of Moline, Illinois. Here’s his story. 

Challenges in a man’s life are resources in Gods hands. 

Many people consider blindness a hurdle, but on Freeman’s first day as a preacher, it was clear nothing was going to slow him down. Freeman’s preaching always drew a crowd, and he was grateful they showed up, even if it was only out of sympathy or fascination. 

Freeman didn’t preach in front of stained-glass windows or before a pulpit. He worked from a “church on wheels,” called Palmquist’s Memorial, and the mobile church was powered by two horses. 

It’s hard to imagine a blind minister traveling around the state of Illinois with nothing but his young daughter to guide him, but God went before Freeman and provided everything he needed to answer his calling. 

On that first day, as Freeman prepared to share Jesus with the local townspeople, there was some confusion as people mistook Palmquist’s Memorial for a fish cart, since the two looked remarkably similar. 

With money in hand, a man approached the cart. “What kinds of fish are you selling?” 

“I am not a fisherman, but a fisher of men!” Freeman told the visitor. 

Soon another local approached, believing that Freeman was selling medicine. 

Freeman explained that the only medicine he had to offer was the Good News of the Gospel. 

The blind minister and his horse-drawn church on wheels proved to be an irresistible oddity for many, but Freeman didn’t mind. Children came from all over town to climb the mobile church and inspect its underside. 

“Mister,” a little one said, “My mother gave me bread to feed the horses. May I?” 

Every question and conversation made an opportunity for Freeman to scope out the hearts of those he spoke with and share the Good News of God’s saving grace. Blindness was an asset, not an obstacle. 

“There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:4–7 NIV). 

The obstacle before you may be difficult; take the first step to overcome it. Challenges in a man’s life are resources in God’s hands. 

“The Blind Swedish Evangel.” American Foundation for the Blind. 1917. https://​archive.org/​stream/​blindswedishevan00alfr/​blindswedishevan00alfr_​djvu.txt

Rusten, E. Michael and Sharon. “The Blind Evangelist.” The One Year Christian History. Michigan: Tyndale House Publishers, 2003. Pp. 710–711. 

Story read by Daniel Carpenter 

December 19. W. Lloyd Wright. As a physician, Wright served Colorado School of Mines for 22 years. On this date in 1986, the university awarded Wright the Mines Medal for outstanding personal and professional contributions to the campus community. 

After Mines, Wright also served as physician for Coors Brewery and Rocky Flats. Doctor Wright died in 2016; he was 99. 

In hard times, unconditional love can heal the broken. 

Wright’s daughter gazed up at him. The teenager’s gaze focused intensely on her father’s intelligent dark blue eyes. Some of her friends had been kicked out of the house for such news as she had, so the stakes were high. 

She had planned carefully, wanting to be alone with her father when she told him. Staring across the breakfast counter in the bright turquoise kitchen, she took a deep breath. “I’m going to have a baby.” 

“I love you,” he said. 

In a flash he was out of his chair, rounding the counter, and the two met in the middle. At six-foot-two, Wright was a tall man, and he engulfed his daughter Candace in his long, strong arms. 

“That’s when I experienced the unconditional love of the Lord,” Candace said many years later. “In my greatest time of need.” In times of greatest need, unconditional love vanquishes the darkness. It brings healing, hope, and dignity. 

As a medical doctor in Golden, Colorado, Doctor Wright met a lot of people’s needs. For years he faithfully made house calls in the evenings, and he felt “exceedingly blessed” to care for his patients. He never charged widows or foreign students, and of the more than 2,000 babies he delivered, several were given his name to honor his selfless care. 

Several years into Wright’s career, his son—a gifted athlete on his way to college—was killed in an accident. The healer couldn’t heal this time. He survived by throwing himself deeper into serving his patients. 

His wife Lilly was inconsolable, and her depression deepened with time. She never fully recovered before Alzheimer’s took her even farther from him. 

Many people thought Wright should put Lilly in a home. He was still young, and her care would be all-consuming. But Wright refused. “As long as I am able, she will be in my home next to me.” He retired from family practice and for seventeen years Wright met his wife’s needs in this time of her deepest darkness. 

Wright’s granddaughter Tisha helped care for Lilly. She was seventeen when Grand Lil died. She watched Granddaddy Lloyd kneel beside Lil’s casket and take his wife’s hand. “Lilly,” he said, “I need to talk to you.” Wright told Lilly that God called them to sickness and health, and that it was an honor to serve her in her sickness. As he talked, Tisha rethought what it meant to care for others. She better understood her granddad’s unconditional love. “It showed me what commitment was,” she said. 

Over his lifetime Wright memorized many long passages of Scripture, but he especially loved Psalm 23. He told Candace and Tisha he loved this passage because as God took him down specific paths of righteousness—like becoming his wife’s caregiver—he learned to honor the Lord. 

For twenty-two years Wright worked at Colorado School of Mines, meeting needs beyond the medical care he gave, offering students jobs, friendship, and new shoes. He even financed cars. When Wright remarried later in life, he and his wife, Natalie, who was a nurse, served as medical missionaries. 

Wright was 98 when his housekeeper had a grand mal seizure. He rushed to her side and sat with her on the floor. Cupping her face in those large, loving hands, he said, “I’m here with you.” 

As Candace watched, she again saw the ever-present, unconditional love of God demonstrated through her father, an unconditional love her father had shared for ninety-nine years. 

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13 NIV). 

What needs call for your unconditional love? In hard times, unconditional love can heal the broken. 

Based on an interview with Candace Olsen and Latisha Hawkins, 2019. 

Story read by Blake Mattocks

December 18. Chris Maxwell. Chris is a long-time pastor—five years with youth and nineteen as lead pastor. For the last fourteen years, he has been Campus Pastor and Director of Spiritual Life at Emmanuel College. He speaks in churches, conventions, and schools, and has written nine books.  

On this date in 2014, Chris appeared on “Faith Talk Atlanta” and told his story. It’s a story that reveals why his accomplishment is so amazing. Listen to this. 

The limp you have, may be the message you live; be bold. 

Twenty years ago, Chris was at the top of his game. Happy and healthy—physically and mentally—he enjoyed coaching youth-league basketball and pastoring in sunny Orlando, Florida. A scholar, Chris had complete books of the Bible memorized, and he remembered the name of every person he met. 

But in March 1996, Chris got sick. He had high temperatures and headaches and stomach pain so bad he passed out. When his speech stopped making sense, his family rushed him to the hospital. 

“The doctors didn’t think I would live,” Chris said. The diagnosis was shocking: herpes simplex encephalitis. The neurologist said an MRI of Chris’ brain looked like Swiss cheese. It was severely scarred, and his left temporal lobe was permanently damaged. 

Epileptic seizures followed, and though they were eventually controlled with medication, Chris suffered a lot. After his discharge, he had to have extensive rehabilitation, including three daily visits from a nurse and speech therapy that made him feel like a child. 

For six months, he wasn’t allowed to drive. 

The most difficult things to cope with, however, were the invisible effects of Chris’ illness: his personality, knowledge, memory, and emotions had all changed. His wife Debbie said it was like getting to know a second husband. 

But Chris refused to give up. He survived and has become an advocate for people who deal with epilepsy and encephalitis. He has also published several books—only now he’s more of a poet than a scholar. 

He recognizes that his difficulties, his slowness, and his struggle allow him to teach and write in a way he never could have before. He relates well to the Old Testament story of Jacob. 

“So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, ‘Let me go, for it is daybreak.’ But Jacob replied, ‘I will not go unless you bless me’” (Genesis 32:24–26 NIV). 

Chris is determined to grab hold of the blessings that come with his “mental limp.” 

The man who used to write curriculum on the Psalms is now living them. Today, Chris sees value in each moment. In each person. In each conversation. In each breath. In his advocacy work, he explains that the Greek root of the word epilepsy is seized but adds: “Instead of being the object of seizure and being held back, I choose to be the subject: to seize the day, to seize the moment. Seize this moment.” 

Chris has learned to slow down, to pause—a theme he often writes about. “Instead of doing more to impress God, how can we find Him in the now? Driving down the road. Eating in a restaurant. Having a conversation with you? Where is God in the picture? He is here.” 

Is there something you deal with, something causing you to limp? The limp you have, may be the message you live; be bold. 

Based on an interview with Chris Maxwell, 2019. 

Crossroads Christian Communications Inc. “Pause with Jesus.” 100 Huntley Street. May 30, 2016. http://www.100huntley.com/watch?%20id=223470

Story read by: Joel Carpenter 

December 17Brian HardinBrian founded the Daily Audio Bible podcast, which has been accessed 40 million times, and Four Winds Mission—“an Artistic, Socially Conscious, Community of Faith” in Tennessee. He is an accomplished record producer, a filmmaker, a photographer, a narrator, and a skillful graphic designer. 

Zondervan asked Brian to write a book for adults about the Bible, and on this date in 2011, Brian published Passages: How Reading the Bible in a Year Will Change Everything For You

But Brian has had his hard times, too. About that time, he said, “… I was raised a Christian and even grew up a pastor’s son, but after 20 years in the music business, I was living a comfortable, semi-agnostic life. I didn’t really know God. …” That’s where today’s story starts. 

Religion can harden a man, but relationship with God transforms him. 

“God, if you’ll speak to me for yourself, I’m listening,” prayed Brian. The house was still, and he settled into the couch that evening. With his family out of town, he sat alone with his thoughts—and an uncomfortable tension that had been growing in his heart toward God. 

He lifted one of several family Bibles from the coffee table in front of him and slowly flipped through the pages. Hardin wrestled with the awareness that he had never actually read the entire book from cover to cover. 

He leaned back on the couch, and suddenly realized that everything he had ever learned about God, his entire life of faith, had been second-hand. 

As a devout believer for most of his life, church had been at the center of his life and his family. He had dedicated himself to learning about God. But always through someone else’s interpretation. In that quiet moment, he recognized that he was familiar with bits and pieces of the Bible, he was living the life of what some people thought of as a “good Christian,” but his heart still ached for something more. 

Is this all there is to being a Christian? If so, I’m not sure I can do this for the rest of my life. 

He lifted his eyes from the Bible and looked around the living room. Pictures of his beautiful wife and family caught his attention. How could he lead the family God had trusted him with into an authentic Christian faith if he didn’t know the God of the Bible for himself? 

And how could he get to know God for himself in a more meaningful way? In frustration, he closed his eyes. 

“God, if you’re going to speak for yourself through your Word, I’ll read the whole Bible,” Brian prayed. 

Then he opened his eyes, opened his heart, and opened his Bible to the very first page. Genesis Chapter One. The first three words were “In the beginning.” 

Those three words felt like a prophesy. Like a new beginning for Brian. He had read these words before, but tonight they landed differently in his heart. This time he wasn’t reading to get to know the Bible. He was reading the Bible to get to know God. 

In that moment, something changed for Brian. He realized that God wanted to reveal Himself through the Bible, that God wanted to build a relationship with him through His Word, and that God had given us the Bible to get to know Him

“The more I learned God’s Word, the more I came to understand that knowing the Bible, becoming a theologian, wasn’t the ultimate goal in life, it was getting to know the God of the Bible through knowing His Word.” 

“Open my eyes to see wonderful things in your Word. I am but a pilgrim here on earth: How I need a map—and your commands are my chart and guide. I long for your instructions more than I can tell” (Psalm 119:18–19 TLB). 

Today as you’ve heard this story, are you like Brian, living on a second-hand relationship with God? If you are, it’s not yours; take a step today and make it your relationship. 

Do you see any signs of anxiety in your life? If so, what is the next step in dealing with it? 

Religion can harden a man, but relationship with God transforms him. 

Based on an interview with Brian Hardin, 2019. 

Story read by Chuck Stecker 

Story written by John Mandeville, https://www.johnmandeville.com/ 

December 16. Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell was a politician and Puritan. He believed men could go directly to God without a go-between, and he was willing to defend his belief with his life. 

In the 1600s, civil war broke out in England with the Parliament fighting against the King. Cromwell led the Parliament Army. The King believed in his “divine right for absolute authority” and used his station to try to eliminate the Puritans from England. The King and Parliament wanted control of the army. Like any civil war, it was hideous—a country’s people fighting their own. 

On this date in 1653, Cromwell became Lord Protector of England—the title one uses to say “I am in charge” when the authority of the king has been denied. Cromwell’s side won, and he lived to fight many more battles. His army loved him, Puritans like John Owen and John Milton supported him, and foreign rulers admired him. But many saw him as harsh, and the Royalists still hated him. Eventually, Cromwell died of malaria. 

Two years later, the King’s men dug up Cromwell’s body, hanged it, cut off its head, and hoisted his head on a pole at Westminster Hall. Today’s story is about one of the battles of the civil war. 

The duty to protect the vulnerable goes beyond all boundaries. 

In the Battle at Marston Moor, 4,000 sons and brothers and fathers and uncles died. The King’s soldiers and the Parliament’s soldiers lay together on the battlefield. 

And when the battle finally ended, a few parents and siblings picked their way among the bloody bodies across the field of battle. They searched for their dead; they wanted to bring them home. It had been a hard-fought victory. 

With those families, Cromwell—a leader on the Parliament’s side—walked that field. 

He thought of his nephew. During the battle, young Walton had been hit by cannon fire. Medical help had arrived, but failed to save the boy’s life. Cromwell would have to write to his sister and brother-in-law. He would have to let them know Walton had died with dignity. 

Stepping around a body, Cromwell noticed a young woman ahead, stepping carefully among the fallen. She searched each of the faces. Clearly, she was looking for someone. This was no place for a young woman. Didn’t she know the battlefield was a gruesome place to be? 

And it was dangerous. Despite the military presence, looters still polluted the fields. And if she were related to the King’s men … the victorious Parliament might count her an enemy. 

He hurried toward her. Whether friend or foe, for her own safety, she had to get off this battlefield. 

As he got near, she must have felt his presence for she looked up. And she looked panic-stricken. 

But he raised a palm to her and showed what compassion he could in his face. He saw her panic dissolve into grief. Overwhelming loss. 

Poor child. Cromwell asked her name. 

She was called Mary. Wife of Charles Townley of Lancashire—a member of the King’s Army and from a prominent Catholic family. The people Cromwell’s side had defeated in battle the previous day. 

Though he knew the awful answer, he asked about her business at the battlefield. 

She was searching for Charles’s body. 

Cromwell listened to her intently, and he recognized the kind of sorrow she had. That was all he needed to know. The woman could not bring her Charles back, and many of the dead had already been buried. She risked her life just being there, especially with her connections to the King. 

Despite her bravery, he gently urged her to seek the safety of her home. Not only would she find the close-up view of the horrors of war traumatizing, but she could easily be attacked or killed. He implored her to think of her own safety, to return to the family who needed her, especially now. It didn’t take long to convince her to go home. She complied and turned back to find the road. 

But Cromwell would not let her go alone. Vagabonds and looters threatened even outside of the fields. So, he called for one of his own troopers, one he trusted, to escort her back and make sure that no one would harm her. The trooper arrived, mounted her on his horse, and set off. 

Cromwell didn’t tell her his name. There was no need to frighten her. Would she have accepted his help if she knew he was one of the leaders of Parliament’s armies? He didn’t know. Nor did it matter. What mattered was that she got home safely. And when his trooper returned to confirm Mary’s safe return, Cromwell was satisfied. Too many had been lost in the Battle of Marston Moor, but at least one life could be saved. 

“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling” (Psalm 68:5 NIV). 

Think of someone you know who may lack a protector. How can you be there for them? The duty to protect the vulnerable goes beyond all boundaries. 

Hood, Edwin Paxton. Oliver Cromwell: His Life, Times, Battlefields, and Contemporaries. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1883. Accessed January 16, 2019. https://archive.org/details/olivercromwellh01hoodgoog

Morley, John, M.P. Oliver Cromwell. New York: The Century Co., 1900. Accessed January 16, 2019. https://archive.org/details/olivercromwellby004057mbp

Story read by Chuck Stecker