Scattered across the studio on easels were sizeable, striking frames that would soon house portrait photos. My friend Jill, a daughter of the owner, helped me choose one for The Singing Butler, the lithograph rolled in my hand.

Jill scrutinized the frames and dismissed many: not the right color, not the right size, a tiny nick in the corner. Finally, her eyes settled on the ideal frame for me, announcing it was a gift to me. She smiled and said that God moved her to give it to me; it'd be ready in a few weeks. I was stunned.

When I returned, Jill greeted me with a grin. She pointed to my transformed picture—beautifully outfitted in an eggshell matte and an expensive, maple-toned frame.

I remembered my failed attempt to frame the picture myself. I'd gone to a local craft store and found a $10 frame from the "oops" pile—frames incorrectly cut by employees. The frame almost fit. For elongated minutes I stood there and debated with myself. It's good enough, I reasoned. Finally I set it down and walked out of the store empty-handed.

Now I stood speechless with the handsome Butler in hand. I realized how close I came to settling for something less than what I really desired, making do with what was available at the moment. I thought about how often I am tempted, in my impatience and self-sufficiency, to settle for less than God's best in areas like relationships, finances or an art frame.

I'm reminded in Psalm 27:14 that strength lies, surprisingly, by waiting for the Lord, not in creatively making things happen myself: "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord" (New International Version).

Today, the Butler hangs in my bedroom, a daily reminder that God delights to give His children good gifts as we wait on Him.

I learned theology from my 3-year-old son.

He regularly caught me by surprise during discipline sessions. My wife and I teach that disobedience is sin, and that we need Jesus for forgiveness. So each time Brenner wouldn't come when we called, for example, or threw a temper tantrum, we taught him to ask for forgiveness, followed by prayer.

His little face streaming with tears, Brenner would ask me or his mommy to forgive him. I think he worried we might stop loving him. And then came the theology lesson.

"Yes," I answered, "I forgive you!" And instantly Brenner would laugh. Like his tears, his guilt was gone. A fresh start.

I know the Bible promises that Christ forgives my sins when I ask (1 John 1:9). But so often when I pray for forgiveness, I waltz with shame. I feel the need to grovel, to carry guilt like a carcass around my neck.

My 3-year-old knew better.

"As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us," says Psalm 103:12.

There's pure joy in God's grace. I learned that from my son.

I wasn't thinking a Griswold family spectacle—just enough Christmas lights and ornaments to distinguish our house as the prettiest one on the block. I had bought my first house that spring, and couldn't wait to decorate. Good intentions, however, are only as good as the plan of execution. In reality, I hung one measly star-shaped lantern in the front window. We decorated inside, but our house's façade stayed dark that December.

In Matthew 5:14, Jesus calls Christians "the light of the world." Clearly He wasn't talking about Christmas lights; but like my decoration plans, I might neglect Christ's command without even trying.

I can get too busy thinking about myself—my Bible studies, fellowships and Christian friends—and never place myself around people who don't know Jesus. I just end up with a heap of good intentions.

Jesus said to "let your light shine before men" (Matthew 5:16). This task requires action on my part, but I don't have to try too hard: inviting neighbors over for a game or eating lunch with a co-worker instead of in my cubicle. I don't even have to buy bulbs and bows—Jesus equips each believer with everything he needs to be light. But I do need a plan of execution. I need to be around unbelievers so they can see Christ's light.

This past year, several neighbors complimented me for my decorations, including wreaths, colored lights, some garlands and my lantern. I'm learning to let my light shine. I won't settle for good intentions.