About Christina Fox

This author has not yet filled in any details.
So far Christina Fox has created 797 blog entries.

Palaces of Cedar: The Sweet Fragrance of Love and Sacrifice

Last spring a group of large dudes who have come to be known as The Big Guns built some raised garden beds in our backyard. I love to garden, and this project felt like a big ‘ole sloppy kiss from the Lord right on my cheek. The vegetables, the teachable moments, the vegetables that teach me in moments…our backyard is becoming a full heart kind of place for me. And an unanticipated bonus of this whole yard project: the smells. Now, granted, I have a very sensitive smeller, so maybe this won’t apply to everyone…but the smells, the smells…they are getting me. I *adore* the smell of a freshly pinched tomato sucker. And bitty E tells me blooming bee balm “smells like cleaner.” (Still not quite sure what that means.) The dirt, even some of the fertilizer (that’s weird, right?), my herbs…I love it all. But there is one smell that is getting me good. We used 4x4 cedar posts to construct the raised beds. While The Big Guns were here, they went ahead and cut the remaining posts to construct an archway over our fence gate at a later point in time. (Sometimes Big Guns tire of carting around Heavy Electric Saws.) Those cedar posts have taken up residence in our garage, just to the side of my car. And they have lit up our garage. Previously the garage smells were not of such a nice variety. Yes, on occasion, based on perfect weather conditions and zero humidity, the garage would smell pleasant. Like a garage should. However, we live in the deep south. Like, put on your diving gear deep. And we have a diapered toddler. So most days our garage smells like hot trapped trash. Enter cedar posts, stage right.

Palaces of Cedar: The Sweet Fragrance of Love and Sacrifice2022-05-07T23:54:27+00:00

Why the Word: A Look at Psalm 19

I’m terrible at following directions. This fact has resulted in many quandaries through the years, like the time I decided I didn’t need driving directions for a trip back to college one semester, and for about two-hundred of the four-hundred-mile journey, I drove in the wrong direction. There was that time. I also neglect directions when it comes to putting furniture together. Once I pull out the pieces and lay out the various tools, screws, and parts, I simply start. The directions can usually be found in the trash because I have convinced myself: I can figure it on my own. And this is why we have unnecessary holes in bookshelves, why we have a lop-sided chair, and why our music stands pop off every time I pull them up. As ridiculous as my attitude is toward following directions, I’ve realized that my disposition toward Scripture can too easily slip into a similar mindset: I know it’s important, but I’ve read it before. Or, sadly, I will first seek my own solutions to difficulties in life rather than searching the Bible for answers; perhaps there is a part of me that believes I can figure it out on my own. If you struggle to read the Bible because you don’t think it’s necessary, or if you’re tempted to believe that it doesn’t make a difference in your life, take a look with me at the particular words chosen by the Psalmist in Psalm 19.

Why the Word: A Look at Psalm 192022-05-07T23:55:10+00:00

Bringing our “Hungry” to His Plenty

God woke me up and showed me Jesus when I was in high school. My one and only high school boyfriend was about to escort me to a fancy Christmas party, and I was stoked. I’d noticed him acting a little strange recently, but I was sure it would pass. Instead, after the party he drove me to a quiet, romantic spot, and broke up with me. I was devastated. My mother shouldered the burden of sorrow and rejection with me, but I refused to be comforted. As far as I was concerned, I was not only unloved, I was unlovable. Days turned into weeks. Then of all things, my mother—who was not the Bible thumping type—said this, “Rondi, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself. You need to ‘put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.’” In a flash, the Holy Spirit connected the dots for me. The Jesus of my childhood suddenly became the mighty Savior of the Scriptures who had come to rescue me. The 1971 folk song brought a portion of God’s word to life and Jesus stepped off the page.

Bringing our “Hungry” to His Plenty2022-05-07T23:56:43+00:00

Easter Preparation Begins Now

It’s the Thursday before Easter, and we’re heading home from church, each of us sitting in our own bubbles of silence. The communion service quieted our hearts to ponder Jesus’ last supper with His disciples and the coming crucifixion tomorrow. “Tomorrow!” My thoughts interrupt. “That means it’s only 3 days until Easter. What should go with the ham? Do Tyler’s pants that match his Easter shirt still fit? Oh, and I need shoes. Yikes. I can’t forget to grab peanut butter eggs and another dozen eggs to dye.” By the time Easter dinner dishes are piled in the sink and candy wrappers lay on the dining table, I’m ready to sit down. That’s when I wonder what happened to Easter. How could I have let the celebrations hijack the resurrection? I hate to admit it, but during the Easter service, I tried to conjure gratitude and joy, but I hear the message so often and seem to have grown unresponsive. I wasn’t prepared, at least not in my heart. I practice Advent to prepare for Christmas. Why not prepare for Easter? Is Lent a Biblical practice?

Easter Preparation Begins Now2022-05-07T23:57:35+00:00

A Journey of Grace Upon Grace

The earliest emotion I remember feeling about God is fear. As a child, I pictured God as distant, thundering, fiery. I assumed that the Father would blast me with consequences when I sinned, unless Jesus chose to plead with the Father to let me off with a warning. To be honest, I thought of Jesus as the nicest member of the Trinity—the Father was angry and the Holy Spirit was just peculiar. I obeyed God for a long time, not out of love, but from a deep sense of fear. I did all I was supposed to do, but I kept my distance from God, and (secretly) hoped he’d keep his distance from me. As I entered adulthood, my skewed “fear of the Lord” began to destroy me. If God was not for me, then everything was against me. Who could I trust? I was insecure, unstable, anxious, blown about by circumstances. Deep down, I wanted a different relationship with God, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. How do you learn to trust when you’ve spent a lifetime protecting yourself? I turned to a passage of Scripture that had been tugging on my heart for years—the first chapter of John’s Gospel: “For from his fullness we have all received grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known” (John 1:16–18).

A Journey of Grace Upon Grace2022-05-07T23:58:21+00:00

The God of All Comfort

Comfort—we all crave it, and too often we live for it. I wake up each morning to a fresh brewed pot of Starbucks, preferably Sumatra, but any dark roast will do. Sipping that first strong cup eases me into focus. Nice, right? But this pleasurable morning routine doesn’t hold up away from home, where such an aromatic wakeup is rare. Coffeemakers in hotel rooms are typically in the bathroom (just gross!), and don’t even get me started on powered creamer. So I resort to Diet Coke or to covering my sleep-wrecked self with a coat and a pair of sun glasses to embark on a search for a nearby barista. Over time, my morning pleasure, my comfortable way of easing into the day, has come to own me. What’s your thing? Maybe it’s that mid-afternoon chocolate bar or nightly cocktail. Maybe it’s something completely unrelated to food and drink. Whatever it is, we can so easily worship the comfort god rather than the God of all comfort (2 Cor. 1:3). We worship this idol of comfort by orienting our lives on whatever promises to provide it in the fastest, easiest, most enjoyable way, and the more we indulge, the harder it is to cope without our comfort-providing substances. Our comforts become a prison of our own making.

The God of All Comfort2022-05-07T23:59:12+00:00

Are You a Bucket Filler?

PATSY KUIPERS|GUEST Most Mondays and Wednesdays find me at daughter Mary’s house. As 1pm draws nigh, I start herding 7-year-old Joshua and 2-year-old Emma toward the car so we can pick almost-5-year-old Lyla up from pre-school. Depending on the number of distraction-produced detours they take, the process can last anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes. Likewise, the drive to school and back may be filled with enthusiastic commentary on the scenes passing by or with shrieks of “Grammie, tell (insert sibling’s name) not to look at/touch/talk to me!!!” Yes, the trek to retrieve Lyla from school and return home safely is often the most stressful part of my day. But a couple of Mondays ago, the events surrounding our mid-day trip were decidedly pleasant. As soon as Lyla and her teacher exited the building, Joshua, exclaimed, “Lyla’s got the bucket! She’s kid of the day!!” And so she was. As Lyla climbed aboard and buckled up for the ride home, we all started talking excitedly. Congratulatory remarks blended with curious queries regarding the contents of her bucket. Several pieces of candy, a stencil, a super-cool, light-up pen, a certificate declaring her kid-of-the-day, and two books resided inside. Joshua read the books to us after lunch. They were all about how we fill or empty each other’s imaginary buckets by being kind or being mean. Furthermore, the books pointed out we’re doing one or the other all the time.

Are You a Bucket Filler?2022-05-07T23:59:56+00:00

Created to Create

The other day I spent a few hours painting. If I had said that years ago you could be sure I was referring to something productive like painting a room in the house. I would have been redoing ill-conceived decorating choices or cleaning up scuff marks from our family of small children. It would have been purposeful. Needed. Practical. There is simply no way I would have been able to sit, surrounded by craft-store acrylics and a mason jar of brushes, to simply to create something. Not when there were so many other, more important things that needed my attention. But that is exactly what I did, and I loved every moment. Made to Create Spending any appreciable amount of time just creating says a lot about how I’ve changed over the years, to be sure, but it says more about how my theology has changed. You see for a long time, I’ve viewed the Christian life as a sort of to-do list. A relationship with the Lord, absolutely, but defined by acts. I viewed my status as a Christian woman, a wife, a mom, a sister, a friend, all as being determined by what I did and by what I brought to the table. There is an aspect of obedience to the Christian life, what we do does matter, but for a long time that was all there was for me. Do more. Try harder. Hope it’s enough and probably do a little more just to be sure. It took me years to finally understand that we were created for more than just doing—we were created to create.

Created to Create2022-05-08T00:00:44+00:00

How. Much. More. Abortion and the Line of False Choice

Sometimes the most unusual phrases capture my attention. Reading through the Old Testament the other day, I ran across the command, “You shall not boil a young goat in its mother’s milk.”  I was immediately struck by those words. I have been unable to shake them from my mind. In particular, I’ve been contemplating how this phrase relates to the recent passage of a law in the State of New York legalizing—and indeed, actually celebrating—third trimester abortion. Wondering if I understood the passage rightly, I went to multiple sources and, of course, received multiple interpretations as to the meaning. Learning that this phrase appears not one, but three times, in the Old Testament, I also found that it appears in different contexts. While some consider it to be a mistake in the translation of the text, others suggest that it is written in reaction to a pagan ritual, while still others see it as comparable in usage to “how much more” statements which are made in both the Old and New Testaments. (I will be working off of the premise of the “how much more” perspective.) “How Much More” Applied One example of Jesus’ “how much more” statements occurs in Luke’s version of the Sermon on the Mount. There, Jesus tells his hearers to consider the lilies of the field—and how God cares for them. “But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith?” In other words, “If God cares for his creation as a whole, how much more does he care for every one of his image bearers?”

How. Much. More. Abortion and the Line of False Choice2022-05-08T00:01:35+00:00
Go to Top