Stuttering Crier

Click the "Send" button and your message can be read within seconds...on the other side of the world. Hit speed dial and you can be talking "instantly" to someone in another country...as you both drive along life's highways. Watch earth-shaking news (like the Japanese tsunami) as it happens.

It wasn't always this way. For centuries, one of the readiest forms of transmission for critical news was the "Town Crier." "Oyez, oyez (literally "Listen, listen")!" they would cry in the streets. When print media became more readily available, Criers were replaced by boys hawking papers: "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!"

Today, in our "advanced" civilization, we have need of neither Crier nor hawker; we have Twitter. Or Facebook. Or Google Ad Words. I know. I read them. Almost every day. Some of what I read on Easter weekend has me reflecting on why I am a "stuttering crier." Other pastors told of lives being changed in their churches. The reports I read were in awe of the way God is at work. I never sensed anything but reverent joy on their part.

Therefore, on this Easter Monday, I will not stutter. I will boldly proclaim what happened in Stone Ridge Church this past weekend. Only God can accomplish what we saw, so I am joyfully shouting His praises. Here are the highlights...

* 31 people baptized (more are preparing to be baptized soon)

* Almost 1400 in attendance

* Scores of young families came, many for the first time. Young adults keep bringing their friends and God is changing their lives. In turn, they are bringing other friends and the process keeps multiplying.

* We were gripped by the presence of God. In every service. At every baptism. People were giving their hearts to Jesus in the auditorium and out in the courtyard.

Perhaps the final moments of baptism after the last service said it best. Juan, an elderly man who is very ill watched his grandkids being baptized. Juan gave his heart to Christ not long ago. After seeing his family members and others baptized, he told his son, "I have never seen anything like this. I want to be baptized, too!" Because of his medical condition, some of us met on Sunday afternoon to baptize him in the jacuzzi of one of our leaders. As tears flowed, Juan modeled obedience to Christ's command.

Only God!

"There Came A Sound..."

"What if we're making a mistake?" Thomas kept his voice low to avoid disturbing the people praying across the room. "I just don't want to dishonor Jesus by getting in a hurry and not following his plan."

"Thomas, Thomas," said Bartholomew, "you have such hesitation in you! Jesus showed us during the forty days how to see our current events through the lens of the Scriptures. We are simply following His pattern. Besides, the decision is made. Matthias is obviously the Eternal's choice to replace Iscariot."

A few feet away, some of the other apostles were deep in prayer. Several of the women had gathered in a little circle and were fervently asking the Mighty God to show Himself by revealing the Helper -- the promised Advocate. Still others had stepped out into the morning air to stretch their legs, cramped from long hours on their knees and on their faces. It had been like this for ten days since Jesus -- Messiah -- had disappeared into the clouds. He told them to wait and pray for the promise to be fulfilled. How long would it be?

The streets outside were beginning to fill with locals and guests alike. The first fruits were being brought in abundance for this year's Pentecost. The crowd seem larger than normal, with people having formed caravans from faraway Mesopotamia. A large contingent of people had come from Libya. They had been joined by scores of dark-skinned travelers from far south in Ethiopia. A large ship had arrived from Rome and almost all the passengers were here for Pentecost. If you stood in the shade near the temple, you could hear every conceivable language as people walked by.

Peter stood and asked all those in the room to give him attention for a few minutes. "Friends, we know that Jesus made a promise to us. We don't know the hour or the day when that promise will be fulfilled, but I wanted to encourage you to hold on in prayer. I carry with me the sadness I felt that night in Gethsemane when James, John and I kept falling asleep -- Jesus seemed so lonely when he asked if we couldn't just tarry with him for an hour. I also know the shame of failing our Lord that same night after his arrest. Therefore, I ask you again to simply keep waiting, watching and praying."

The noise of footsteps on the stairs caused them all to turn to the door to see who would enter. As about six or seven came walking in, it was clear that others were close behind them. In just a few minutes they counted and all 120 of them were in the room at the same time. Most of them had been here for all their waking hours each day, but it was common for a few to be away at a given moment. Here they were together.

They all sensed a sudden urgency to pray and began lifting their voices as one. With new fervor they cried out to the Eternal to send the Promised One.

Then...the sound seemed out of place! The sky that morning had been clear and the air was calm. It looked to be a beautiful day. Where was this storm coming from? The noise was intensifying quickly. They began to look at the ceiling because they were afraid the roof was blowing off. The air, however was perfectly still!

Suddenly a little cry escaped from the lips of one of the women. "Look!" One by one, it was as if tongues of fire had rested on every person's head! Their eyes were wide with wonder and someone opened his mouth to say something. He was speaking a language he didn't know!

To my readers: I was surprised at the joy I received from writing some of my own thoughts about events surrounding Holy Week this year. Some of you encouraged me to come back at the time of Christ's Ascension and continue the project. It is my prayer that these words will serve to enhance your appetite for more of the history from Scripture itself.

40

"People from Galilee, why are you standing here? Jesus has been taken to heaven. But he will return someday in just the way that he left!"

Those words, spoken by angels, marked a transition in history. Jesus arose and appeared among them at various times and places for 40 days. His ascension set the scene for the age in which you and I live.

"I waited patiently for the Lord,
He inclined and heard my cry
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the miry clay.

He set my feet upon a rock
And made my footsteps firm
Many will see
Many will see and fear

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

(from "40" by U2)


U2 took that famous song from Psalm 40. King David, the great songwriter and ancestor of Jesus Christ, wrote of the confidence that comes from waiting patiently for God to hear and answer. I wonder if it's by heaven's design that this just happens to be Psalm 40, rather than, say, Psalm 28 (or any other Psalm). There is something fascinating about the number 40.

The ancient earth was a mess and God literally gave it a fresh start. How? It rained 40 days and nights.

God's people had been held captive in Egypt so God sent Moses to lead them out. They weren't really ready to trust in God for victory in the Promised Land, so what did God do? He left them in the wilderness for 40 years. Before that, they had been a people, but after that 40 years they became a nation.

Jesus paid the price of our sins on the cross, then rose from the dead. He kept appearing for 40 days. His ascension ushered in this age.

"He has given me a new song to sing,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
They will put their trust in the Lord."
(Psalm 40:3 New Living Translation)

So Long!

The spring morning air had quickly warmed. Travelers were hurrying down the small mountain road into the city of Jerusalem. Just over the hill to the south and east, the souks of Bethany and Bethphage were bustling with merchants. Families had sent their older children to purchase a few fresh items for the day's meals. Many of the women were already making advanced preparations for tomorrow's Shabbat.

The joy on the faces of Jesus' followers was contagious. Each of the few previous afternoons he had suddenly just walked into their gathering. They tried not to act surprised, but that was difficult when none of them were completely sure where he came from. He was just there! Radiant! Happy! What a contrast to this same setting only a few weeks ago.

Then he had carefully instructed them about judgment to come. Then he was preparing them for the trial of the cross. Then he was exhorting them to keep the faith. Now, he was helping them understand how this had been the Eternal's plan since the beginning of time. Scripture after Scripture was explained in light of his resurrection.

There was a different quality about Jesus they couldn't quite put into words. It's like he was more full of love and more intimidating all at the same time!

Something else had changed. Those who had been with him from the beginning had seen many lose heart and defect, but they were stunned by the betrayal of Judas. Now, when Jesus was here...alive...why couldn't they just gather the whole nation to come and see? But the locals would have nothing to do with it. Some of the most ardent followers went to the residents of nearby villages and asked them to at least investigate. The disciples were treated like lunatics. "He died," villagers would say. "The religious leaders said his body was stolen! You are troublemakers!"

What didn't make sense is that some who had resisted him the most were now among them as believers. Everyone was shocked when Jesus' half-brother James had approached the Eleven one day and asked for baptism. His arrogance had been replaced by the deepest humility they could imagine.

So they gathered here. New faces and old. Former deniers, returning deserters, faithful followers. How could six weeks have changed everything so radically?

John and Peter looked up and there he was. Jesus' mother Mary was near John. Jesus went directly to her, gave her the customary kiss of greeting and whispered something. She looked at him with shining eyes and a little sob escaped. She had expected this day.

"Gather around, friends!" Jesus spoke clearly, but he wasn't particularly loud. Still everyone could hear him. Before Jesus could tell them what he would talk about, one of the long-time followers waved his hands and got Jesus' attention.

"Yes, Shaul, what is it?"

"Lord, we all have one question that we don't know about."

"It's okay, my friend, what is your question?"

"Uh...is this the time that you are restoring the kingdom of Israel? Are you ready now to become the king of kings?" Other voices rumbled their assent to this question and looked to Jesus for an answer.

"Remember what I told you before the crucifixion," Jesus replied. "The Eternal Himself sets the dates for all things. The world has times and seasons that have been set into motion long ago and all will happen in its proper time. Those details are not for you to concern yourself with. We have something more important for you to do."

In the back of the gathering, people were whispering quietly. "More important? What could be more important?" Suddenly, Jesus was speaking again...

"I want you to wait in Jerusalem for a very important day that will be here very soon." Jesus was smiling. "You remember how John was baptizing with water down by Jericho. He promised then that I would baptize you with the Spirit of God. That is about to happen. Then, when you have received the power of the Spirit, you are to tell everyone about me starting right here in Jerusalem. Quickly share the same message throughout Judea and, yes, even in Samaria (the Samaritan woman's eyes were glistening as he said this). Before you are done, I want the entire earth to hear what I have done for them on the cross."

It was one of the youngest followers who shouted, "Look! He is rising into the air!"

To my readers: I was surprised at the joy I received from writing some of my own thoughts about events surrounding Holy Week this year. Some of you encouraged me to come back at the time of Christ's Ascension and continue the project. It is my prayer that these words will serve to enhance your appetite for more of the history from Scripture itself.

Into Focus

The breeze shifted slightly as cool air slid down the mountain to the east. He noticed the smell of the crackling olive wood as it lifted from the nearby fire pit. Keeping his eyes downcast, he listened with feigned disinterest to the animated conversation.

"They'll beat him and let him go, I tell you!"

"No, you're wrong this time, Yacov! I heard a few of them talking. They've had enough. They're going to ask the governor for the death penalty. And when they get through with him, they'll go after his associates if they have to."

Back and forth the argument volleyed. Occasionally one of the debaters would look a short distance away at the inquisition taking place.

Out of the shadows a young girl came up next to him. "Hey you! Aren't you one of his men? Didn't I see you in the Temple with him the last few days?"

His heart was pounding in his ears. He could feel the beads of perspiration forming at his temples. The words that came from his lips were like daggers to his own heart... "I...don't...know...him!" He awoke, thrashing and groaning.

Now he laid there, horrified at his failure. He recalled his vain boast, "Teacher, even if all the rest desert you, I will stay with you! Whatever it takes!"

"Simon, Simon... My friend, Satan has wanted you so that he might crush you like wheat under the threshing wheel. But I have prayed for you that you may persevere."

Finally, lying in the darkness, Peter's thoughts once again traveled to the lake. They neared the shore with empty nets that day just a few weeks ago. Jesus had been standing there, but they didn't recognize him in the pre-dawn shadows. He spoke and challenged them to let down their nets on the right side of the boat. Willing to try anything, they spread the nets one more time. They suddenly had so many fish that the nets were breaking! Then they knew it was the Lord.

Peter threw on his outer garment, jumped out of the boat and waded to shore. As he drew near the fire, he stopped. Jesus had used olive branches that had fallen from an old tree not far away. The smell was the same as that horrible night of his failure. He was filled with shame.

After breakfast, Jesus gazed at him. His eyes spoke understanding and compassion. Then, three times -- the same number as his denials -- the Teacher asked, "Simon, do you love me?"

"Yes, Lord, you know I love you!"

"Then care for my sheep."

To my readers: I was surprised at the joy I received from writing some of my own thoughts about events surrounding Holy Week this year. Some of you encouraged me to come back at the time of Christ's Ascension and continue the project. It is my prayer that these words will serve to enhance your appetite for more of the history from Scripture itself.

To Market, To Market

Yesterday my daughter C. Beth posted a very interesting blog about the mailings she received inviting their family to various Easter services. I was fascinated by her thoughts and the comments she was receiving (including the one from her mother admitting that we recently had a sermon series by the same title as one in her post).

I actually shared the substance of Beth's thoughts with our Senior Leadership Team yesterday morning. You see, many of us in the church world are scratching our heads about how to reach those who don't go to church with the basic message of Easter -- that Christ died on the cross for our sins and rose from the dead. Easter is one of the few opportunities left when people in this culture seem to be thinking about going to church.

I was doubly fascinated because we did something different this year: we didn't advertise -- at least not in the traditional sense of the term. In previous years we have have bought ads in the local paper and on the most popular local radio station. We have sent out direct mail postcards to those in close neighborhoods and, while they weren't as "catchy" as Slumdog Savior, they were designed to be "inviting." While we have rotated different ones of these strategies, we have annually placed a very large banner on our campus with Easter service times. Didn't do that one this year either.

INSTEAD, we went to all our Small Groups and asked them to develop prayer lists of people we care about who don't go to church. We began to pray for God to give us opportunities to comfortably invite them to an Easter service with us. We then printed out simple invitation cards with the service theme, times, location and a map of how to find us.

I can be as doubtful as Thomas sometimes and wasn't sure this strategy would work. I showed up Easter morning with concerns that our attendance would drop considerably. I prayed, invited a friend (he didn't come -- at least I didn't see him) and prepared to tell the Easter good news to those who showed up. The result? Our Easter weekend attendance was up over 170 people from last year.

Everywhere I looked, I saw new people. Most of them were with friends who already attend Stone Ridge.

No postcards in the mail. No newspaper. No radio.

No brunch. No Easter Egg hunt with special prizes.

Just friends.

The New Beginning

Four thousand years. From generation to generation the understanding had been passed down. The Eternal had spoken the world into existence during six days. The seventh day was His day of rest. The eighth day was for starting over. A new cycle of time. Whatever had taken place before was gone. It was a new beginning.

But how could she begin again? The work that was completed on Friday was too final. Others had left their jobs to follow the Teacher. She had left hell. Was she doomed to go back?

She shuddered as she remembered the voices. Her months following Jesus had all but washed their memory away. He was gone -- would they return? One by one would they seize her, pulling her into the degradation that was once her life? Would she spend her evenings with the filthy men hungry for her touch, then leap on them clawing and screaming, only to face the dawn whimpering in the corner of some dingy room? After those nights -- every night -- the voices came. They reminded her of her worthlessness. "Destroy yourself!" they wooed.

Yes, others had left their jobs. Some had endured separation from their families. But Jesus had delivered her from the voices. What would be her destiny now?

Timidly she had asked a few of the other women to come with her at sunset on Friday. The Sabbath, with its travel restriction, was upon them. She was brave, though. And they all wanted to know where the Teacher's body would be taken. It was their duty to make sure he was properly prepared for burial.

The final rays of the golden orb were dropping behind the hills and into the Great Sea to the west when they took note of the burial place -- a tomb in the rocky hillside. It was too late to take care of Jesus' body, though. They would need to return Sunday morning.

All day on Saturday, the women waited. As they provided food for the mourners, they choked back their own tears to gather the necessary spices. They would arise early enough to be at the tomb before the sun woke up. It would be a busy day of travel from the city following Passover and they wanted to be ahead of the crowds.

In the dark stillness, she arose. Her fitful dreams had wandered from the Teacher doing miracles to the unbelievable events of last week to...the voices. With the others, she slipped out into the night, noticing the faint light in the eastern sky. The smell of their spices permeated the air as they walked through the city gate.

They steeled themselves in preparation for what they would say to the Temple Guards who were watching the tomb. They hoped for someone who was kind enough to let them in and help them with the large stone. Maybe they wouldn't be perceived as a threat.

Rounding the last boulder near the tomb, they stopped in shock. The stone was rolled from the entrance and the Guards were gone! Had someone already stolen the body? Would they blame it on the disciples who were grieving inside the city walls?

The other women were glancing around fearfully. "Someone must look," she said and stepped quietly to the opening. "It's empty!"

They dropped their spices and began to run back into the city. The sun had not yet risen, but two familiar figures were walking toward them. "The tomb is empty!" she cried. Peter and John began to run toward it.

The other women, afraid and distraught, started back into Jerusalem. "I'm going back." She was crying now. They didn't understand. She had nowhere else to go. The memory of the voices pounded in her head.

The two disciples were completely inside the tomb when she arrived. She stood and wept as they left it and hurried past her toward the city. They didn't try to make her leave. Finally, with the sun up over the horizon, she went back to the entrance. At least she could touch the place where they had laid him.

Looking into the shadows, she almost fainted. Two men, dressed completely in white, were sitting at the head and the foot of where he had lain. "Why are you weeping?" one of them asked.

"Because they have taken away my Lord, and I don't know where they laid him."

Noticing a shadow in the entrance just behind her, she turned. A man looked down at her, but she didn't recognize him -- the sun was in her eyes as she looked up at him. It was probably the gardener who had just arrived for work. "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?"

"Sir, my Lord was buried here on Friday, but he has been taken away. If you took him, please tell me where he is and I will see that he is properly prepared."

Jesus said her, "Mary!"

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Saturday

Some arrived alone; others showed up in pairs. The familiar house had always been a safe place to meet. As each disciple came through the door, he was met by the wave of grief that filled the room. How had it come to this? What would they do now? Their vision of a new Israel with Jesus as King had died on Golgotha the day before.

But it was deeper than that. None of them had ever enjoyed friendship like the friendship each individual shared with Jesus. How could he have been universally close to such a large group of people? No wonder their grief was so intense...every single one of them had lost his best friend!

After their tears of greeting, they huddled in small corners to discuss what should happen next. Some were afraid the Council would now seek their arrest. Others were considering a return to their life before Jesus. One or two wanted to soldier on in the Teacher's memory -- hadn't he empowered them to heal and cast out demons? Peter sat silently with vacant eyes.

The women who had gone with Jesus' body to help prepare him for burial had heard the quiet discussion of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus as they directed servants who carried the lifeless form from crucifixion hill to Joseph's own tomb. These two Council members had quietly believed in Jesus and refused to go along with the sham of a trial. They both thought that the purge would stop now that Annas and Caiaphas got what they wanted. Apparently the rest of the religious leaders were fearful that they had pushed Pontius Pilate to his breaking point and he might want to arrest them if they tried anything else.

Someone had heard a rumor at the Temple that the Council leaders had placed a squad of armed guards next to the tomb because of fear that some of the followers might steal Jesus' body.

...

He blinked back a few silent tears as he remembered the careful instructions of his fisherman father. Checking each knot, he was certain they could stand up to his abba's inspection.

He mused as he worked: how could everything seem so right and end up so so wrong? How could hope rise as high as Mt. Hermon and so quickly crash lower than the Dead Sea? "Evil now has a name," he thought. "It is my own."

Judas leaped out from the large rock.

The noose held.

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Friday

It was well past midnight when Jesus shook Peter, James and John awake...for the third time. "Couldn't you just pray with me for an hour?" The question haunted them in their sluggish waking in the same way their dreams had done when they slept.

John noticed what looked like drying blood on the Teacher's face and was about to ask him, but Jesus was already moving toward the eight others in the distance. "Quickly! My time is at hand!"

They started moving out of the Garden toward the road up the Mount when they were met by a large group of soldiers carrying torches. Judas Iscariot stepped from their midst and gave Jesus the customary kiss of greeting. As if nothing was wrong!

Suddenly, chaos! Soldiers grabbed Jesus. Peter pulled out the sword hidden in his robes and started slashing. He swung at the head of the man closest to him; the blow glanced off the mans skull and blood was spurting everywhere.

"Stop!" said Jesus. "This is to be." He turned to the man Peter had just struck and touched the wound, speaking quietly. The man suddenly grabbed at the place of the wound and shouted, "I'm healed! I'm healed!"

The soldiers moved quickly now, brutally shoving Jesus toward the city gate. John followed at a discreet distance and Peter followed him. In their confusion and shock, the rest ran in every direction. A few of them hid in the darkness for hours, afraid that soldiers were ready to take them captive.

The events that followed happened like a blur, but were so dramatic it was if time stood still.

...

Though terrified, most of the disciples had hidden in the shadows among the crowds as Jesus moved through the narrow city streets carrying his cross. They saw up close the open wounds on his back. Blood flowed freely from the thorns on his head. Andrew saw the pain in the Teacher's eyes and turned away to hide his tears.

On Friday afternoon, their friend who had taught them, guided them, listened to them, healed them, fed them, laughed with them and cried with them was hanging naked on a cross. Nails pierced each hand and his feet. He kept pulling and pushing himself up by those nails so he could exhale and draw another breath before he slumped down again.

The unusual midday darkness made it possible for even the most timid of his followers to watch quietly from the edges of the crowd. They had heard the nails being driven in. It was as if the whole earth moved when the cross was dropped in the hole prepared for it.

It was his words that pierced their broken souls. "Father, forgive them." "Today, you shall join me in paradise." "I'm thirsty." Then, when he cried out, "My God, why have You forsaken me?", Thomas hung his head and walked away. His hope was dying on that tree.

...

Inside the city gates. Inside the Temple walls. Inside the Sanctuary. In the room called the Holy Place. The priest chosen by lot was preparing for the evening offering. He suddenly felt light of head. Was he fainting? No, he looked over at the altar, which was scooting across the floor. It was as if the entire Temple was shaking apart.

He fell, clawing the tiles for something to hold on to. Then, he heard the sound from 50 feet above him. The veil. The curtain between this room and the Holy of Holies. It was four inches thick, made of the strongest fabric available. A tear appeared at the top and ran to the floor.

Opening the way between man and God.

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Thursday

Troubled. That was a good description. The entire region was gathering to remember, then to feast the goodness of The Eternal. But they were troubled.

Of Jesus' followers, those that slept did so fitfully. Some of them had nightmares. Members of the Council were like giant, black birds of prey swooping down to destroy the Teacher, then falling upon the rest of them.

What had begun with such promise as the people shouted "Hosanna" on Sunday, had grown darker each day since. When Jesus spoke the harsh words -- "The Twin," Thomas, had counted seven woes -- targeting the Council yesterday, it was as if he was throwing down the gauntlet. Then a few Pharisees were standing near to listen when, just outside the wall, the Teacher said that judgement would come soon and not one stone would be left standing upon another.

The hope for clarity came up empty last night. Jesus spoke graphically to them about the judgment to come. He gave ways to identify it. Many were hoping for a clear date so they could prepare, but he said that no one knows the day or the hour. Just be ready. What tension!

The more optimistic among them hoped today would be a little brighter. It was Passover. This was a day to remember how the Eternal delivers His people during difficult times. Surely it was time for a hope.

By mid-morning the markets were buzzing with activity. People were purchasing everything necessary for the Passover meal. Some of Jesus' followers returned from a walk through Bethany and asked him, "What do you want us to do for the supper tonight?"

He thought for a moment and said, "Andrew, you and Philip go into the city. You will see a servant carrying a water jar. Follow him home and tell the master of the house I will be there with my disciples tonight. He will be expecting you and show you a room upstairs which is already furnished. Then, go to the market and get all you need to prepare the meal."


Just before the Passover Feast, Jesus knew that the time had come to leave this world to go to the Father. Having loved his dear companions, he continued to love them right to the end. It was suppertime. The Devil by now had Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, firmly in his grip, all set for the betrayal.

Jesus knew that the Father had put him in complete charge of everything, that he came from God and was on his way back to God. So he got up from the supper table, set aside his robe, and put on an apron.
Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with his apron.

When he got to Simon Peter, Peter said, "Master, you wash my feet?"

Jesus answered, "You don't understand now what I'm doing, but it will be clear enough to you later."

Peter persisted, "You're not going to wash my feet—ever!"

Jesus said, "If I don't wash you, you can't be part of what I'm doing."

"Master!" said Peter. "Not only my feet, then. Wash my hands! Wash my head!"

Jesus said, "If you've had a bath in the morning, you only need your feet washed now and you're clean from head to toe. My concern, you understand, is holiness, not hygiene. So now you're clean. But not every one of you." (He knew who was betraying him. That's why he said, "Not every one of you.")

After he had finished washing their feet, he took his robe, put it back on, and went back to his place at the table. Then he said, "Do you understand what I have done to you? You address me as 'Teacher' and 'Master,' and rightly so. That is what I am. So if I, the Master and Teacher, washed your feet, you must now wash each other's feet. I've laid down a pattern for you. What I've done, you do. (John 13:1-15 The Message)


Just a few days earlier, the Teacher had amazed and infuriated a crowd when he declared his flesh was real food and his blood real drink. Tonight he added to their understanding...and their sadness. Taking a piece of the flat bread, he broke it and said, "This is my body." Later he took the cup known in Passover as "Redemption" and said, "This is my blood." Then, at the end of the meal, he said, "I won't eat this meal with you again until we eat it in my Father's kingdom."

They finished the Seder with the traditional hymn that night, but it was sung with heavy hearts and sad faces. Obviously, Judas was a defector. When Jesus mentioned betrayal, Judas stomped out. The others had looked on...speechless.

As they stepped into the night air, Jesus said, "Don't be troubled. You have learned to believe in God. Now, trust me. I have a job to do. Part of my work is going ahead to prepare you places for eternity. The day will come when this darkness will be permanently ended and we will be together again. Without sadness. Without goodbyes."

As the Teacher spoke, he was exiting the city gate. For some reason, he didn't start up the familiar road to Bethany. He turned aside to the garden they called Gethsemane. When they arrived at a familiar place, he told most of the disciples to wait awhile. Peter, John and his brother James followed him further in. Finally, he spoke frankly, "I need some time in prayer, but I need to be alone. Please wait here, but please pray for me."

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Wednesday

In the pre-dawn darkness Jesus shook John awake, then took a few steps and did the same to Peter and James ben-Zebedee. "Get the others. We will leave very soon. I have much work today."

A few of the men were still rubbing sleep from their eyes as they stepped out of the little house. The air was cool this morning. But it wouldn't take many steps on the trail for the travelers to warm up. Their group was smaller than the past few days. Others would surely join them when they found out Jesus had left early.

The Teacher and his closest followers came through the gate before the first rays of sunlight struck the city walls. Once inside, they went directly through the Huldas into the Temple compound. The Court of the Gentiles was awake and stirring. Passover was drawing hundreds to the city already and some had come early to the Temple to present their offerings.

Jesus stopped suddenly and gazed across the courtyard to the offering box. A few wealthy merchants were talking loudly, causing everyone near them to look their way. Satisfied that they were noticed, they went in single file and opened their fat purses. As they dumped sacks of coins into the box, each of them smiled with satisfaction at the comments people were making about their generosity. They then strode away, smugly nodding at a few young people who actually cheered them.

As the hubbub of the courtyard returned, Jesus continued to gaze quietly at the collection box. None of his followers had noticed the woman with downcast eyes, standing in the shadows. Now that she thought no one would see her, she approached the box. The black fabric of her widow's garment was clearly ragged at the edges. Keeping her eyes down, she dropped the two tiny, copper coins in the offering and quickly walked away.

Jesus turned to his disciples, tears glistening in his eyes. "She gave the most of all," he said. Seeing their confusion, he choked back a sob and added, "It was everything she had."

As they pondered the weight of what Jesus told them, the disciples followed him back outside the Temple compound. He began to speak loudly now, knowing that many would stop to listen as they passed by. Everyone wondered what he would say or do next. Over the past few days, people had all but declared him their king. Then he forced the currency exchange merchants from the Gentile's Court. Then he faced down every effort the religious leaders made to trip him up. It was whispered everywhere that the Sanhedrin would surely take some kind of action to stop him.

Those looking for the thrill of a fight weren't disappointed as he spoke today. He accused the Scribes and Pharisees of holding the people hostage to meaningless laws. He said that the religious leaders performed all the rituals of the Law, but ignored things like justice...mercy...faithfulness. He even called them a bunch of snakes! He said they were condemned to hell and that God's judgment would come upon them.

Then, with a promise that this very generation would face the wrath of The Eternal, Jesus abruptly walked down the steps and out of the city. The disciples all followed him...except one. Judas Iscariot caught the elbow of Matthew and said, "I will be staying in town for a while to take care of some urgent business. I will join you on the mount later."

Judas the treasurer made sure all the followers were with the Teacher and slipped by into the Temple compound. He quickly made his way through the Court of the Gentiles and through inner courts to the Court of the Priests. "I need to see the High Priest," he said. "I am one of the twelve specially selected by Jesus of Nazareth."

"Why should the High Priest see you?" barked a temple guard.

"He needs access to get to Jesus away from the crowds. I'm ready to deal."

At that moment, the Teacher was stopped by one of the followers who had come in from the countryside. "Look, Jesus! Have you noticed the beauty of our glorious Temple today?"

Jesus looked at the man, then the Temple. Tilting his head slightly, he again raised his voice: "I tell you that soon not one of those massive stones will rest upon another. It shall all be destroyed!"

They walked back up the Mount, discussing among themselves what this might mean. When they arrived at Bethany, they took bread and rested. Then, in the late afternoon they approached Jesus. "Teacher, you spoke of the Temple being torn down. When? What are the signs of this devastation? Is it when you will return to lead us?"

Jesus motioned them to sit down. He began telling them in detail about the times to come...

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Tuesday

One of their friends awoke them early at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus in Bethany. "Villagers are whispering about the news traveling from the Temple after the Teacher's action yesterday. Apparently many of the exchange merchants are unwilling to set their tables back up, fearful that he might return. Caiaphas is fuming! Violence is in the air because of how much trouble Jesus is causing. But the leaders are afraid...the people love him!"

Jesus had once again slipped away from his bedroll during the night. It was past dawn and he hadn't returned. It seemed that these times of quiet prayer were getting longer by the day.

As they began to stretch and prepare themselves for the morning, Jesus arrived and said, "I must go back into the city today. I will leave in a half hour."

The crowd of followers trailing Jesus down the road was growing. People were arriving from the distant villages to celebrate the Feast in Jerusalem. They had heard that the Teacher was staying in Bethany and stood in little groups waiting for him to emerge from the house.

A short distance down the road, they neared the fig tree where Jesus had stopped the day before. All the leaves had dried and fallen off; the entire tree looked dead. Late Monday night, two of the disciples talked about the tree.

"I wonder what it means," James ben-Alphaeus had mused.

"I've been thinking about it," replied Thaddaeus. "The prophets Jeremiah and Joel both spoke of the fig tree withering. They were clearly speaking about nation of Israel. We Jews should have been alive and full of fruit, but we substituted our own ways for the ways of The Eternal and have been rendered barren."

"You're right!" said James ben-Alphaeus. "And did you notice how 'alive' our temple looked as we neared the city? But the teacher tore into it like a gardener attacking dead limbs. Clearly he saw our religion has become like the tree -- outwardly striking, but fruitless."

"Yes," Thaddaeus answered thoughtfully, "and remember the words of the prophet Micah: 'Oh people, what does the Eternal require of you? Do justice! Love kindness! Walk humbly with your God!' Here in our Temple was the full leaf of religious ritual, but little justice. Here were religious people walking about in their dark robes with Scriptures hanging from their sleeves, but no kindness in their hearts. Here was a huge show of bringing offerings and knowing the correct interpretation of difficult passages, but no humility before God."

At that moment Jesus noticeably looked up at the tree. Peter, ever overstating, said, "Master, the tree you cursed is withered."

"Yes," said Jesus, "but listen carefully. You can tell a mountain to jump into the sea and it will do it...if you have faith."

Today, as their group walked through the Gate, people openly stopped to stare at the Teacher. Those nearby spoke in quiet whispers; the ones in the distance conversed aloud. The disciples weren't surprised that he made a path straight through the Hulda Gates and back onto the Gentile's Court. It was amazingly quiet today.

People gathered around Jesus, seeing that his expression was kind rather than fiery. He began to teach them. "Learn to bear the fruit of righteousness," he said. Almost immediately he was stopped mid-sentence.

"Teacher!" came the strong voice of a Pharisee who stood cloistered with some of his fellows. "Who gave you the authority to do the things you do? You marched in here yesterday and defied the edict of the High Priest by driving out sanctioned merchants."

"They're trying to trip him up," Peter whispered to James ben-Zebedee.

"I will ask you a question," Jesus said with firm gentleness. "When you answer it, I will answer you."

"Agreed," the man replied, black robe rustling lightly in the breeze.

"When John, the son of the priest Zechariah, baptized at the River near Jericho, was his commission from men or from The Eternal?"

The crowd began to stir when the Pharisee didn't have an immediate reply. Turning to his fellow leaders, he asked quietly, "How do I answer him?"

"If we say that The Eternal sanctioned John, Jesus will ask why we didn't follow him," said one.

"I know," interrupted another, "and look at this crowd. They all believe John was a prophet. If we say he wasn't, that many more will turn against us for this Teacher."

Their leader turned to Jesus and spoke loudly, "We don't know if he was a prophet or not."

"Then, neither shall I answer your question."

The men walked away arguing among themselves. The people inclined to Jesus even more attentively.

All day he taught them there. Two or three other interruptions came from various factions of the religious leaders. Each time, the Teacher answered their questions with wise authority. Each time they walked away.

But their anger was stirring like a storm...

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Monday

The night was as restless as the previous day had been invigorating. Upon their late afternoon return up the Mount of Olives to Bethany, everyone was full of hope. And ideas. And speculation.

Peter had announced with authority that it would be time for them all to put their lives on the line. Matthew and Judas Iscariot spoke of how to manage the budget, should they determine to start their own government.

Tight, little groups had climbed that trail. Each knot of followers was talking about the day. What did it all mean? What were they supposed to do next?

Jesus walked quietly. John stayed near, also silent.

The conversations continued into the wee hours of the morning. No one seemed to notice when Jesus slipped outside in the cool darkness and looked for his customary quiet place.

On the heels of their Sunday drama, they started back down the Mount. Monday morning. What would happen today?

Just a short distance along the dusty road, they looked up. The fig tree near their path seemed especially beautiful today. The morning sun illuminated the fresh growth of spring leaves.

Jesus stepped off the beaten trail and walked up to the tree. "I'm hungry!" he announced. Everyone wondered what he was referring to. The season for the rich, ripe fruit was months away.

Then, as if he had forgotten their presence, he said, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again."

What could that mean? Then, slowly, imperceptibly at first, the leaves began to lose their fresh, green tint. It was as if they were dying and falling to the cold, winter earth. Jesus had never done anything quite like this. He brought life from death, didn't he? Surely they were missing something.

The Teacher gave no explanation as they again started down the road. This time, their raised eyes noticed the beauty of the Temple just inside the city wall. Travelers journeyed for weeks just to catch of glimpse of the glory shining in this morning's light.

Their hearts began to quietly leap with expectation. After yesterday's triumphant exclamation that Jesus is the hope of Israel, would he announce his new kingdom today? Would their feverish overnight plans need immediate implementation?

He continued to quietly walk, the small crowd grouped behind him. He went through the gate and immediately joined the crowd filing through the Hulda Gates into the Temple compound. His steps were intentional, purposeful; his followers anticipation thrust forward with each one.

As he entered the Court of the Gentiles, he stopped. How this location had changed in just a few years. Built as a place for non-Jews who wanted to seek The Eternal, it had disintegrated into a bazaar. The Law required people entering the Temple to pay a one shekel tax. The only shekels left which approximated the value of their ancient coins were the ones from Tyre. Roman money must be exchanged for Tyrian coins and the rate was usurious. This had been done for years at the markets on the Mount of Olives, near the roadway leading into the city. Then the High Priest seized on this as a way to make more profit for the religious leaders. Caiaphas invited money exchange merchants to rent space here at the Gentiles Court. Gradually, the merchants who sold the sacrificial doves came, too. Their little birds must be bought with shekels, after all.

The followers closest to Jesus noticed first. It was his eyes. How could eyes that usually shone with kindness become such intimidating embers?

The Teacher marched to the first little table inside the Gate. He threw it to the ground, coins rolling in every direction. "Leave this place!" One look at those eyes and the merchant ran for his life.

Stepping further in, Jesus began moving from one to another, his ferocity growing. "Leave!" he shouted. Merchants were now gathering their things and running out the gate. All over the Court, people had stopped to stare at the raging man.

Within moments after it started, the entire Court had ceased activity. The final merchants were carrying their equipment and their wares out.

Jesus stood in the middle, every eye upon him; every ear tuned to his voice.

"My house shall be called a house of prayer, even for Gentiles!" he shouted. "You have turned it into a place where thieves openly lurk!"

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Entering The Gate

The animal swished its tail as yet another young horsefly lighted, hoping for an abundant meal. The colt was tied there, just as promised. The mother of the little beast stood nearby. The two men approached quietly and took the rope which had been fastened as a bridle. The strong, young colt began to walk away with them when the mother began braying loudly.

"What are you doing out there?" came the gruff voice of the owner as he stepped through the door. "Stop where you are!"

"Please, sir, forgive us! We were told to say to you that the Lord has need of it."

"The Lord, you say?" A small light flickered in the man's eyes. "I have wanted to do him some service. Tell him I give it with my blessings!"

Arriving back on the road that wound down into the Kidron Valley, they found the rest of their company. Some rested. Others spoke in hushed tones. The memory of Lazarus walking from a tomb after four days of death was like electricity in the air."

"Master, here is your young donkey," one of the men said. "We were questioned, just as you told us might happen. We gave the answer you instructed and the owner sent his blessings along with the colt."

"Thank you," said Jesus, as He slowly circled the animal. "He will do just fine." Then, gazing down at the city through the clear, Spring air, He remarked. "It is a good day for riding."

The realization of his seriousness caused the two men to quickly pick up their outer garments and throw them over the colt's back. The animal, amazingly peaceful, stood quietly as Jesus jumped up on its back. He took the rope from the men and began to ride down the mountain, the large group of followers surrounding him.

They had gone only a few steps when one of the men remembered a scene from their history. Over a thousand years earlier, Solomon Ben-David seized control of Israel with the blessing of his father. Mounting David's own donkey, Solomon rode down this trail into the city with the high priest, Nathan the prophet and a host of others shouting, "Long live the king!"

"Long live King Jesus!" the man blurted, not realizing his thoughts had formed into words.

"Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Eternal!" someone else cried.

One of the women exuberantly sang the words from Psalm 118, "This is the day which the Lord has made! Hosanna! Save us, we pray!"

Men began to run ahead and tell the people that Jesus of Nazareth was riding into the city. As they went, they threw their cloaks down in the path of the donkey. Nearer the gates, the news was spreading quickly. Some young boys noticed palm fronds that had recently been trimmed from the trees. They gathered up as many as they could carry and began spreading them where the donkey would travel. Others who had run to the commotion, heard the growing shouts of "Hosanna!" They each took a palm branch and began waving it.

By now, people were pouring out of Beautiful Gate. They could see across to the other side of Kidron as the throng sang, danced and leaped into the air. Not even understanding what it meant, some of them began to weep. Could this be the day? Could the oppression of Rome be ending? Could they again live freely in their own country?

By now, a few of the Pharisees had shoved their way through the crowd. Sternly stepping into the midst of the group, they spoke to Jesus: "Tell your followers to stop this perversion. Don't you know this is blasphemy!"

Forcefully, but without anger, he replied, "I tell that even the rocks would cry out if the people weren't able."

Continuing along the trail, the little donkey crossed the Kidron and started to climb toward the gate. As Jesus passed by, a young widow knelt on the ground, her tears dripping on the face of her infant daughter.

The word came out in the midst of a sob. "Hosanna."

To my readers: the eight days we have come to know as "Holy Week" is detailed graphically in Scripture. The parts we don't know much about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' closest followers. My attempt this week is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the last few chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. My hope is that the reading of my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Dusty Treasures

When my parents bought the little farm where I grew up, it included a tiny, one-room adobe building. Known simply as "the storeroom," it housed various "treasures" over the years.

My mom lined the simple wooden shelves along one wall with canned vegetables and fruit. Many a winter's serving of green beans, crowder peas and peach cobbler began with a trip to that storeroom.

The last few years I lived at home, the storeroom also contained a large chest freezer. We often had enough frozen beef there to feed a small army. All year long, we would dig through the freezer for a "treasure" that would grace our dining table within a couple hours.

Adobe -- mud brick -- is a great product for natural insulation. It's also a habitat for dust. I loved the food that came from storage in that mud building.

But I can't think of it without remembering the smell of dust.

The three-plus years of Jesus Christ's earthly ministry took place up and down the dusty roads and sun-stroked villages of Israel. That season culminated with a week in Jerusalem.

Starting Sunday, I hope you will journey with me as we look back to the events of Jesus during what we call "Holy Week." My prayer is that it will move us beyond the dusty layers of two millennia treat our hearts to a feast.

We begin on Sunday.

Easter Insights

A few years ago, Tom, our Worship Pastor, approached me with, "What would you think about having a Tenebre service?" I was lost. He must have been speaking Greek. (I speak Geek and was sure that wasn't it.)

"Actually," he said, "Tenebre is a Latin word that means 'darkness.' The service is designed for Good Friday evening just after sunset."

Tom has earned my trust. He told me a little about what he wanted to accomplish and I turned him loose.

At the time, we had one small office building on our future campus. The property God blessed us will is on a hillside which slopes toward the West. We are moved by the many gorgeous sunsets we get to watch. Before our first buildings and lighted parking, it could get quite dark out there.

I will never forget that first Tenebre service. As the sky grew darker, Scriptures were read and descriptions were given of the crucifixion. We heard the clank of nails being driven into Christ's hands.

After a closing prayer, we were dismissed and saw the dim form of a man hanging from the cross. No one said a word as we walked back to our cars and left.

It took us about 20 minutes to drive back across town that night. We were silent for almost the whole trip.

I was never so ready for Sunday morning.

Do you have a Good Friday memory you can share?

Invisible Easter Hope

A part of my childhood Easter exists, for me anyway, only in my imagination. No, it's not the mental picture of a stone rolled away, an empty tomb or Mary mistaking Jesus for the gardener. Instead, I always imagined the Easter Egg Hunt at Hope Farms.

If, like me, you grew up in Socorro, New Mexico, the Hope Farms Easter Egg Hunt was a thing of legend. Hope Farms was about 4 miles south of our house in the country. I went there twice a day when I rode the bus to and from school. I knew the family that lived there. For a time, my family went there on Sundays and picked up some friends who needed a ride to church.

But, on Easter, Hope Farms was a place of mystery. It was the location of the big, community Easter Egg Hunt. If you read the comments on this blog yesterday, my daughter Becki remembered the egg hunts when she was young. I similarly remember ours on the farm. But, at least in my imagination, nothing could compare to the one at Hope Farms.

Why? I'm not really sure. I vaguely remember something about prize eggs with cash. When I was a kid, we bought candy bars for a nickel, cokes for a dime and comic books for twelve cents. Consequently, a dollar in a prize egg was A LOT of money.

Perhaps the reason was the potential haul of candy Easter Eggs (can't stomach the boiled ones -- never could). Perhaps it was the sheer enormity of the thing.

The Hope Farms Community Easter Egg Hunt was real. But Easter for us was a time for family, close friends, church and Easter Sunday afternoon at home. For me, the Hope Farms Hunt was alive only in my imagination.

I still smile when I pause to think about it.

What was in your imagination at Easter?

Easter On The Farm

Yesterday I described some of the routine of Easter as I was growing up. Something else is drilled into my memory...the smells.

The title of this blog refers back to growing up on the farm. We weren't "farmers" in the formal sense of the word. My dad had a regular job in town. My parents, though, knew they had to stretch their income to feed and care for themselves, four kids, grandparents that needed help. And others who crossed our paths.

It was my mom who knew how to work that farm. The little acre and a half was about an acre of orchard at the beginning. Apples of different varieties, various types of peaches, at least two kinds of plums, a few pears, occasional apricots (if the spring freeze didn't kill them) and crabapples. Oh, my!

The year they bought the land, mom helped pick and sell the fruit. The bounty was such that they paid for the land in one summer of fruit sales.

Now, let your imagination run with me for a minute. Easter is always near the first day of Spring, right? In our location, that meant that Easter often included a wide array of fruit trees in full bloom.

Inhale. Remember. Listen to the bees buzzing in the warm afternoon air.

That's what Easter smelled like to me.

What did your Easter (or Passover) smell like?

White Hats And Frilly Dresses

The church I pastor attracts a wide array of people from all ages and backgrounds. Among our Sunday worship services, it's not unusual to see great-grandparents, some walking with canes or being pushed in wheelchairs. It's also common to see young families arrive in their SUVs and unload diaper bags and carrying seats for their tiny ones.

Something that is unusual, though, is neckties. In fact, a man wearing a tie most frequently means a first-time guest. Slacks are common for both males and females and I don't really notice it when the heat breaks in like a tsunami, giving tacit permission to wear shorts. To church. (I'm sorry if your family member is reaching for the smelling salts.)

Dresses are still seen often. But frilly, Easter dresses? Rare. Easter hats? Endangered!

Which takes me back to the less complicated, more formal days of Easter as a kid. I remember those Easters when we all got dressed in our Easter clothes. Back then, jackets and ties were common even for young boys. Every female was in a dress, from the tiniest infant to the most senior matriarch. On Easter Sunday, those dresses were often new, normally frilly and often accompanied by a white hat and white gloves.

We packed into our little church house and excitedly watched as the ushers had to bring in extra folding chairs. Some of my favorite songs were reserved for that day and I always thrilled to the choir singing their most special of "special music."

After the pastor preached, we loaded up in the family car and headed back out to the little farm. We normally spent Easter Sunday afternoon surrounded by extended family. The food was great and plentiful, playing was fun and we stored up a lifetime's worth of memories.

There was more about Easter when I was growing up. However, I save some of it for later in the week. I know that the day we celebrate Easter is still almost two weeks away...but I'm planning something special for next week.

In the meantime, what were your family traditions for Easter Sunday? AND, my Jewish friends, what were your family traditions around Passover?

I look forward to this week.