journey onWord with us

Today’s post has exactly one hundred and fifty-two more words than Scripture contains in speaking of the most sacred Sabbath in human history.  While it would be interesting to know what the disciples and other followers of Jesus were doing or thinking on that day, God has purposed to leave that curiosity unanswered.  Maybe it’s because God knows we would try to emulate it and then add to it.  You know, like the ancients did to the Passover celebration in corrupting the temple, or we moderns have done to Christmas.

For today, let’s embrace the silence and become that in the presence of God.  Let’s rest as creation did after exerting forces so violent that “…the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.” (Luke 23:45)

As you rest, be sober and be vigilant … Resurrection is coming!

A scale does not exist which could truly measure the weight of this day.  With the passing of each hour and event, the day grew increasingly dark and grim.  That darkness found its crescendo as midday tolled and our Savior continued to hang on the cross.  The dawn of the darkest three-hour period in human history broke and something unprecedented and indescribably profound occurred.  You can draw arrows both at noon that day extending in the direction of eternity past, and from the moment of Christ’s death through today and into eternity future and would never intersect with this thing again.  That “thing”, is Separation.  Pause a few moments.  Read that word again, and allow it to echo in the depths of your being … Separation.

Why do I capitalize it?  Because as God the Son hung on the cross for three hours, God the Father and God the Holy Spirit were sacredly and physically separated from Him.  Does your soul feel the weight of that truth?  Does it move you when you read it?  Can you now begin to join Jesus in the garden when He cries out, “Abba, Father! All things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me. Nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will.” Mark 14:36 (HCSB)?

In my observance of Lent and the intensified focus on Jesus’ final week, I have come to believe that Separation is the cup Jesus speaks of as he cries out to his Father.  In both being fully God and fully man, I believe Jesus is fully aware of the physical and emotional brutality He would experience on the cross road and in bearing all our sins.  It is something I cannot even begin to comprehend.  Yet as cruel and agonizing as He knows it would be, it was NOTHING compared to the pain of Separation.

God chose it, and Jesus endured it … for us.  It was the only way.

This truth of Separation became very personal for me this year.  Last week, a day before I began writing today’s post, tragedy struck a personal friend.  At 8:15am last Thursday, my friend’s 8^th grade son took his own life at school.  My heart sank when I received the news.  How could this have happened?!  How could a mother receive a call at her desk, on an otherwise normal Thursday, which carried such tragic news?!  My thoughts remained very much with her, but also naturally wandered to my own sons.  I wanted to drive to school, run into class and throw my arms around them.  My mind could not wrap around the reality of not being able to look into their faces and reach out and touch their hand.  I was devastated for my friend, and it shook me for the remainder of the day.

As I sat silent in thought later that evening, a few words began to echo in my mind and resonate in my soul … “Jesus knows my grief.”  I began to process the truth that I have a Savior that has experienced my sufferings in a fully human way.  And then it hit me.  In that unprecedented and indescribably profound three hours, the Trinity, for the first and only time, entered into the very specific grief of my friend.  Separation.

This story hurts, and is intensely personal, but it is regrettably far from unique.  Our lives and our world are broken and hurting.  And today, on the remembrance of the final Friday of Jesus’ earthly life, we desperately need the hope that this day gifts and points toward.  Jesus bore on the cross the full weight of all sins, for all time … praise God!  But please also don’t miss the truth and hope that Jesus has experienced, in a fully human way, your temptations, your pain, your grief, and your suffering.

The punctuation on this week, and in our lives, is not in the shape of a cross, but rather of a round stone rolled away from the mouth of an empty tomb!

We must travel into and through today’s profound darkness … but take hope.  The dawn has not had its final say yet!

The following is an estimated timeline of Friday in the last week of Jesus.  This has been extremely meaningful in my observance of Passion Friday.  I trust you’ll find it meaningful as well.

I’ll quickly draw your attention to the very beginning of the timeline that notes the Passover Seder Jesus shared with his disciples.  It’s something to consider as you sit down to dinner tonight.

Thursday (our definition of the day)
6:00-11:30pm
Passover Seder – Jesus and his disciples
11:30-1:30am
Garden of Gethsemane

Friday
1:00-1:30am
Confrontation in the garden; Jesus arrested.
1:30-3:00am
Trial 1: Annas, former Jewish High Priest for 16 years; Jesus receives initial physical abuse.
Trial 2: Current Jewish High Priest, Caiaphas, and the Sanhedrin Court; Jesus bloodied by abuse.
3:00-5:00am
Imprisonment at Caiaphas’ palace.
5:00-6:00am
Trial 3: All the Jewish elders, including the High Priest, scribes and whole Sanhedrin. They decide to ask the Roman government to kill Jesus.
6:00-7:00am
Trial 4: Hearing before Roman governor Pilate, who declares, “I find no guilt in this man.”
7:00-7:30am
Trial 5: Hearing before Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great who had jurisdiction over Galilee; Jesus refused to answer any questions so Herod returned him quickly to Pilate.
7:30-8:30am
Trial 6: Pilate repeatedly tried to release Jesus but the Jewish leaders continued to object. Pilate physically tortured and beat Jesus beyond recognition seeking to satisfy the Jewish leaders. However, the Jews still demanded that Jesus be crucified. Pilate resists but eventually gives the order to execute Jesus.
8:30-9:00am
Pilate’s Roman soldiers take Jesus into the court (“Praetorium”) and continue to mock and torture him, including driving the “crown” of thorns into his skull.
9:00am-12:00pm
Jesus forced to carry his own cross to Golgotha; Crucifixion
12:00-3:00pm
Jesus hangs on the cross for 3 hours separated from his Father.
3:00pm
Jesus dies.
before sundown
Jesus is buried.

What I am choosing to write about today didn’t actually happen on the final Thursday of Jesus’ earthly life, but it did happen on a Thursday of yours.  Well … possibly not.  I would love to believe that some of our readers are Jewish, and if you are, you know that what I am writing about today actually happened on Friday, but you can also understand why I might find it appropriate to write about today.  The reason is simply that the Jewish day begins at sundown, while ours begins at midnight.  So the events of early Friday are actually our Thursday evening.

Earlier in the day, Jesus sent a few disciples ahead to prepare a room for a special meal.  He had plans to share the central meal of the Passover with all of his disciples before continuing on to the garden, where he would willingly give himself up to those who sought to kill him.  Every step was intentional for Jesus, and no detail was random.

As night fell, the time had arrived, the guests were all seated, and John’s gospel says it so beautifully…

It was just before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love. (NIV 1984)

In showing them the “full extent,” Jesus gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, pours water into a basin and begins to wash the feet of the disciples.  This was: a King born in a manger, a Savior who had “no place to lay his head” (Luke 9:58), a Messiah riding on a young donkey, and a Deliverer crucified in the manner of a common criminal.  Jesus took the place and posture of a servant and showed them “the full extent of his love.”

The meal they would share that night was the central meal of the central festival, which celebrated the central story that defined Jewish identity.  This was Seder.  To understand it, you had to know the story: of God’s miraculous and epic deliverance of His chosen people after 400 years as slaves in Egypt; of the ten plagues that caused Pharoah to release God’s people; the plagues that might appear odd and random, but that each specifically targeted an Egyptian deity; the final plague where God did not distinguish between Egyptian or Jew, and provided a way of escape only through the sacrifice of a perfect lamb.  This was the meal Jesus was sharing with his disciples that night.

There is not adequate space to note it all, but suffice it to say there was great significance in each of the elements, and the very specific order of Seder.  At the top of the list were the central elements, the bread and the wine.  In the midst of the Seder that Jesus shared with his disciples that night, He would take these two central elements and make them new in Himself.  He did not replace them, as He did not come to abolish the law.  He made them new in Himself, just as He fulfilled every letter of the law.

And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” (Mark 14:22 ESV)  The bread Jesus took was without yeast.  It signified the haste with which the Israelites were to eat their last supper in captivity.  Yeast took time to rise, and God was clear that the one thing they didn’t have was time.  Yeast is also an integral symbol in the preparation for Seder.  Jewish people take GREAT care to rid their house of even trace amounts of it beginning weeks prior to Passover.  Yeast is a symbol of sin to the Jewish people.

There was only one without sin, and that One has just taken the first of two most central elements in this central meal and made it new in Him.  The bread is no longer just a symbol of the haste in eating the meal before the exodus; it is His body.

And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. (Mark 14:23-24 ESV)  “And he took a cup..”  Notice that Jesus says a cup, not the cup.  There are four cups in the Seder meal.  They are based on the four promises God gave to Moses to share with the people in response to their cries for deliverance (Exodus 6:6-7).  They are…

1. I will bring you out … CUP OF THANKFULNESS (start of Seder)
2. I will free you … CUP OF JUDGEMENT (before meal begins)
3. I will redeem you … CUP OF REDEMPTION (Grace after the meal)
4. I will take you … CUP OF COVENANT (end of Seder)

“… and when he had given thanks he gave it to them,” This cup that Jesus takes in the very specific order of the Seder is which cup?  Yes … the third cup, the cup of REDEMPTION.  “This is my blood of the covenant which is poured out for many.”  Jesus has now taken the second central element of this central meal and made it new in Him.  The wine is no longer just a symbol of the redemption of the Jewish nation in the story of their great deliverance; it is His blood.

I think it’s also important to note the very next thing that Jesus says.  “Truly, I say to you, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” (Mark 14:25 ESV)  Cups three and four are Jesus’ unfinished work.  The cross is still before Him, and one day He will return to take His people, all His people.  What a day, glorious day that will be!  But until that day, He will not drink of these very purposed cups.

Every step was intentional for Jesus, and no detail was random.  Jesus has just taken the central elements of the central meal of the central festival that celebrates the central story that defines Jewish identity and makes them new in Himself. He does not replace them.  He makes them new.  And in so doing, He invites EVERYONE to the table.

We are now just hours away from the cup that Jesus pleaded with the Father to take from Him.  But for now, for today, let’s stay around the table, or even better, let’s go out into the margins and invite people in.

In traveling through the seven days that comprise a week, Wednesday represents the apex.  Also referred to as “hump day,” the connotation is that the uphill climb toward week’s end is about to encounter its highest point.  And once reached, it’s all downhill from there.  I would suggest this is also true of the Wednesday in the last week of Jesus.

For as many years as God numbers for me, I will think of an unnamed woman on this specific calendar day.  Because I believe the story of this woman stands at the very crest of Jesus’ final week, and provides the proper propulsion towards the intensity and power of His final days.  The setting is a meal at the house of Simon the leper.  The scene fits, doesn’t it?  Are you at all surprised that Jesus would be enjoying a meal at the house of a former leper?  Yeah, me either.

Jesus is reclining at the table with the other guests and, contrary to proper etiquette, a woman (who would normally only approach the table to serve the men who were eating) approaches Him.  She carries with her “a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard.” (Mark 14:3 NLT)  It is suggested that perfume of such quality and quantity would be the equivalent of a year’s salary and would likely have been a treasured family heirloom or inheritance.  I think it’s fair to say that this would have been a prized possession and would have amounted to most, if not all, of what she had of value in this world.  The last sentence of Mark 14:3 describes what happens next …

She broke open the jar and poured the perfume over his head. (NLT)

She broke open the jar.  She broke open the jar.  No, that’s not a mistaken duplication of text, it’s repitition for the sake of great emphasis.  See, I believe there is deep significance in this very intentional act.  The unnamed woman did not simply uncap the bottle and measure her pour.  She broke the bottle, making an irreversible commitment that its entire contents would be spent in the anointing of Jesus.  A whole (and opaque) vessel would allow for restraint and the possibility to keep a measure for herself.  It could give the appearance of pouring it all out, yet still allowing for some to be hidden and saved.  A broken vessel is an exposed vessel; there is no hiding with a broken vessel.  A broken vessel is a submitted vessel; one that can no longer be used for its prior purpose, but rather given up fully to the purpose it was broken for.  These are the gifts of the unnamed woman … not only her perfume, but also herself.

Immediately upon seeing this act, those who were in attendance began to criticize her harshly.  What in the world was she doing?!  Does she not know how valuable the perfume was?  How much money could have been gained from its sale?  How much could be gifted to the poor?!  It is important to understand that alms for the poor were a very integral part of the Passover celebration.  Much like our modern celebration of Christmas, it was customary to be very generous to the poor during Passover.  So in their own reasoning, the guests saw horrible injustice and waste in what they had judged to be a hasty and frivolous act.  In their own reasoning, that is.

As quickly as they began, Jesus jumped to the woman’s defense.  “Leave her alone … she has done a beautiful thing to me.” (Mark 14:6 ESV)  In His divine, kingdom vision He saw the moving of her spirit to anoint Him for burial; a broken and complete sacrifice to honor Him and prepare His body for what was to come.  It was not customary for a criminal’s body to be anointed for burial.  Knowing this would be His Son’s fate, God authored this beautiful and purposed act.  Jesus chastises the guests with the truth that they will always have the poor among them to offer their help to, but they will only have Him for a very short time.  And lest this be interpreted as a selfish statement, Jesus is quoting the Old Testament text of Deuteronomy 15:11 where God says, “There will always be some in the land who are poor. That is why I am commanding you to share freely with the poor and with other Israelites in need.” (NLT)

I see a stark contrast in this story of a sacred interruption in an otherwise ordinary dinner; namely, that which exists between kingdom purposes and those of the natural world.  In their focus on perfume, money, and tradition, the guests missed the kingdom act of anointing.  They were focused on the denarius.  Jesus and this woman have his Father’s kingdom on their hearts and in their sights.

Then there is Jesus’ answer to the teacher of the law the day before (Tuesday) when he questioned, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” (Mark 12:28 NLT) In breaking the bottle and giving it up to its final and divine purpose of anointing, the woman loved the Lord her God with everything she had.  Jesus’ words, “She has done what she could” (Mark 14:8a NLT), are the same language He used the day before in describing the widow’s offering.  In response to what she did, Jesus promised that, “wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.” (Mark 14:9 ESV)

What is yours and my beautiful alabaster jar?  What is our essence of nard, our counter-cultural act?  Our challenge is to live as the woman acted … that completely broken, that poured out, and that unnamed.  All for the purpose of the kingdom, and loving the Lord our God with all that we have in this world.

On this final Tuesday of His earthly life, we find Jesus in full-on teaching mode, and more often than not, in direct confrontation with religious “leaders.”  As the people and their “leaders” came at Jesus with question after question, Jesus taught the way He always did … with story.  One of my favorites that He shared on His final Tuesday is of a king and a wedding banquet.  The kingdom of God is such a beautiful mystery to me, and I never tire of reading or speaking about it.

A few years ago I heard a story that brought me to tears.  It touched a sacred place inside of me and spoke plainly and profoundly of what I have come to believe of the kingdom of God.  The story may make you uncomfortable at times, but I pray it is a God-honoring illustration of the kingdom Jesus brought to us as a very real baby boy, crucified Redeemer and risen Savior!  Join with me in reading an excerpt from Tony Campolo’s book Let Me Tell You a Story, about Tony and a girl named Agnes.

If you live on the East Coast and travel to Hawaii, you know that there is a time difference that makes three o’clock in the morning feel like nine.  With that in mind, you will understand that whenever I go out to our fiftieth state I find myself wide awake long before dawn.  Not only do I find myself up and ready to go while almost everybody else is still asleep, but I find that I want breakfast when almost everything on the island is still closed–which is why I was wandering up and down the streets of Honolulu at three-thirty in the morning, looking for a place to get something to eat.

Up a side street I found a little place that was still open.  I went in, took a seat on one of the stools at the counter, and waited to be served.  This was one of those sleazy places that deserves the name “greasy spoon.”  I mean, I did not even touch the menu.  I was afraid that if I opened the thing something gruesome would crawl out.  But it was the only place I could find.

The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked me, “What d’ya want?’

I told him, “A cup of coffee and a donut.”

He poured a cup of coffee, wiped his grimy hand on his smudged apron, then grabbed a donut off the shelf behind him.  I’m a realist.  I know that in the back room of that restaurant, donuts are probably dropped on the floor and kicked around.  But when everything is out front where I could see it, I really would have appreciated it if he had used a pair of tongs and placed the donut on some wax paper.

As I sat there munching on my donut and sipping my coffee at three-thirty in the morning the door of the diner suddenly swung open, and to my discomfort, in marched eight or nine provocative and boisterous prostitutes.

It was a small place and they sat on either side of me.  Their talk was loud and crude.  I felt completely out of place and was just about to make my getaway when I overheard the woman sitting beside me say, “Tomorrow’s my birthday.  I’m going to be thirty-nine.”

Her “friend” responded in a nasty tone, “So what do you want from me?  A birthday party?  What do you want?  Ya want me to get you a cake and sing ‘Happy Birthday’?”

“Come on!” said the woman next to me.  “Why do you have to be so mean?  I was just telling you, that’s all.  Why do you have to put me down?  I was just telling you it was my birthday. I don’t want anything from you.  I mean, why should you give me a birthday party?  I’ve never had a birthday party my whole life.  Why should I have one now?”

When I heard that, I made a decision.  I sat and waited until the women had left.  Then I called over the fat guy behind the counter and I asked him, “Do they come in here every night?”

“Yeah!” he answered.

“The one right next to me, does she come here every night?”

“Yeah!” he said.  “That’s Agnes.  Yeah, she comes in here every night.  Why d’ya wanna know?”

“Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday,” I told him.  “What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her–right here–tomorrow night?”

A smile slowly crossed his chubby face and he answered with measured delight.  “That’s great!  I like it!  That’s a great idea!”  Calling to his wife who did the cooking in the back room, he shouted, “Hey!  Come out here!  This guy’s got a great idea.  Tomorrow’s Agnes’s birthday.  This guy wants us to go in with him and throw a birthday party for her–right here–tomorrow night!”

His wife came out of the back room all bright and smiley.  She said, “That’s wonderful!  You know Agnes is one of those people who is really nice and kind, and nobody ever does anything nice and kind for her.”

“Look,” I told them, “if it’s okay with you, I’ll get back here tomorrow morning about two-thirty and decorate the place.  I’ll even get a birthday cake.”

“No way,” said Harry (that was his name).  “The birthday cake’s my thing.  I’ll make the cake.”

At two-thirty the next morning I was back at the diner.  I had picked up some crepe paper decorations at the store and had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, “Happy Birthday, Agnes!”  I decorated the diner from one end to the other.  I had that diner looking good.

The woman who did the cooking must have gotten the word out on the street, because by 3:15 every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place.  It was wall-to-wall prostitutes. . .and me!

At 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open and in came Agnes and her friend.  I had everybody ready (after all, I was kind of the MC of the affair) and when they came in we all screamed, “Happy Birthday!”

Never have I seen a person so flabbergasted. . .so stunned. . .so shaken.  Her mouth fell open.  Her legs seemed to buckle a bit.  Her friend grabbed her arm to steady her.  As she was led to one of the stools along the counter we all sang “Happy Birthday” to her.  As we came to the end of our singing, “Happy birthday, dear Agnes, Happy birthday to you,” her eyes moistened.  Then, when the birthday cake with all the candles lit on it was carried out, she lost it and just openly cried.

Harry gruffly mumbled, “Blow out the candles, Agnes!  Come on!  Blow out the candles!  If you don’t blow out the candles, I’m gonna hafta blow out the candles.”  And, after an endless few seconds, he did.  Then he handed her a knife and told her, “Cut the cake, Agnes.  Yo, Agnes, we all want some cake.”

Agnes looked down at the cake.  Then without taking her eyes off it, she slowly and softly said, “Look, Harry, is it all right with you if I … I mean is it okay if I kind of. . .what I want to ask you is … is it okay if I keep the cake a little while?  I mean is it all right if we don’t eat it right away?”

Harry shrugged and answered, “Sure!  It’s okay.  If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake.  Take it home if you want to.”

“Can I?” she asked.  Then looking at me she said, “I live just down the street a couple of doors.  I want to take the cake home and show it to my mother, okay?  I’ll be right back.  Honest!”

She got off the stool, picked up the cake, and carrying it like it was the Holy Grail, walked slowly toward the door.  As we all stood there motionless, she left.

When the door closed there was a stunned silence in the place.  Not knowing what else to do, I broke the silence by saying, “What do you say we pray?’

Looking back on it now it seems more than strange for a sociologist to be leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes in a diner at Honolulu at three-thirty in the morning.  But it just felt like the right thing to do.  I prayed for Agnes.  I prayed for her salvation.  I prayed that her life would be changed and that God would be good to her.

When I finished, Harry leaned over the counter, and said, “Hey!  You never told me you were a preacher.  What kind of church do you belong to?”

In one of those moments when just the right words came, I answered, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at three-thirty in the morning.”

Harry waited a moment, then he answered, “No you don’t.  There’s no church like that.  If there was, I’d join it.  I’d join a church like that!”

In the years since I read this story, I have dared to live it out in other contexts.  My life has been deeply and profoundly changed by each and every one of my Agnes’.  I pray that as you walk through this last week of Jesus, you will come into full intersection with the kingdom of God.  It’s a wedding feast with a wide open welcome.  It’s a birthday party at 3:30 in the morning.  God is the host.  Jesus has paid the price for the bountiful feast.  You are the one the cake is for.  Are you already there?  Are you coming?

On the final Monday of his earthly life, Jesus left no doubt as to where He stood on appearances and what his Father’s house was to be.  A fig in full leaf served as bookends for a day that was defined by His house cleaning at the Temple.  On the surface, the seemingly minor issue of phantom fruit and the major eradication of the cancer that had infected God’s house might seem unrelated, but upon closer scrutiny, they both reveal the truth and face of the false self, both in our individual lives and our communities of worship.

Jesus makes a bold statement to his disciples as they walk the road from Bethany to Jerusalem Monday morning.  Scripture says that Jesus is hungry and spots a fig tree in full leaf.  This specific tree is out-of-place in the landscape at this time of year.  It’s not fig season, and the deciduous tree should be bare.  Jesus approaches the tree to observe.  Is Jesus surprised?  Clearly for the fully man who is also fully God, this is not the case.  No, as will be His pattern for the middle of this week, Jesus is in teaching mode.

In approaching and examining the tree, Jesus finds no fruit.  He speaks to the tree (in a voice all the disciples can hear) and condemns it.  “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.” (Mark 11:14)  Was Jesus angry because his hunger went unfulfilled?  John 4:34 provides a clear and emphatic answer to that question.

Then Jesus explained: “My nourishment comes from doing the will of God, who sent me, and from finishing his work. (NLT)

Jesus condemns and curses the tree, because it gave the appearance of fruit.  And with the condemnation that all heard that morning, Jesus taught a lesson that is also true of our lives.  The false self that adorns itself in personal righteousness, speaks its own wisdom, and serves for the purpose of recognition and its own advancement, is like that fig tree in full leaf.  It is of no use to the King or His kingdom.

Almost as quickly as it happened, Jesus moves on from the fig tree and continues toward Jerusalem.  His steps are measured.  His destination is clear.  He has already been there, and He is returning with a purpose and a plan for decisive action.  Wait … He has already been there?  A verse that escaped my notice for as many years as the true meaning of hosanna is Mark 11:11.  While His triumphal entry was front page news from Palm Sunday, buried on page 6 was His visit to the temple before He returned to Bethany late that afternoon.  Mark 11:11 says…

So Jesus came to Jerusalem and went into the Temple. After looking around carefully at everything, he left because it was late in the afternoon. Then he returned to Bethany with the twelve disciples. (NLT)

The gospel accounts give us no further detail, but a closer study of the Greek reveals a sense of deeper intent and scrutiny than the translation “looking around” would suggest.  Although Scripture doesn’t say it, I see Jesus stealing away as He often did to pray.  Visiting his Father’s house was on His agenda, and I cannot see Jesus taking a group along with Him.  He needed to experience with His fully Divine and fully human senses what had become of God’s house.  Proving that His ways are not ours, verse 11 notes that “he left because it was late in the afternoon.”

God does not choose to reveal Jesus’ thoughts and reactions during His deliberate visit, but we know from history that what Jesus saw resembled nothing of the house of prayer that God commissioned and commanded it to be.  The once holy and sacred space had, over time, become more of a human institution.  Temple currency was created to generate a profit for those who controlled and exchanged it.  There was an entire enterprise structure built around acquiring a suitable sacrificial animal.  There were merchants, inspectors, priests, and at every level, corruption that lined the pockets of the privileged few at the expense of those who had little.  Honest pilgrims desiring to honor God, fleeced by those they trusted were there to ensure their sacrifice was fitting.  I have only research to rely on, with no first-hand account, but everything I know suggests that this was far from a house of prayer.

What I had always believed, was the picture of Jesus storming into the Temple and overturning tables was a sudden and visceral reaction to the shock and surprise of what He walked in on.  How much more powerful and consistent with the character of God it is to understand that this was nothing more than Jesus making right, the mess that had been made of his Father’s house.  This was a righteous response to the evil that had co-opted God’s house of prayer.

When we cast our gaze over the entirety of the final Monday in Jesus’ earthly life, we can clearly see how God feels about the false self in us and in our communities of worship.  As the group with Jesus returns to Bethany late Monday, they pass by the fig tree.  It has withered and died.  A fitting picture of what God desires for the false self in us.  As we enter our houses and communities of worship this week to remember and celebrate, let’s follow Jesus’ example and “look around.”  What do we see, hear, taste, touch and smell?  Is it a house of prayer where those on the margins are welcome?  Are there some tables that should be forcibly removed?

The pages of Scripture remain alive today and speak through the ancients directly to us.  This is not just another Monday.  What a blessing to walk deliberately and intently through Jesus’ final week and learn from Him.

Hosanna!  This is a day of celebration! … or is it?  “Hosanna!”  It was the loud cry of praise from the overwhelming and jubilant crowd … or was it?  Let’s set the scene …

The city of Jerusalem was packed to overflowing as pilgrims from far and wide descended on the city to celebrate the feast of the Passover.  It was the central Jewish festival, and it had become big business.  Jerusalem was in full festival mode.  A sea of people navigated the narrow streets of the city, eating, talking, buying and selling.  Think host city of the Final Four on championship weekend.

A buzz began circulating in the city streets.  “The Messiah is headed this way!  Rumor is, he is just outside the city.  We must go quickly to the gate to meet him.  We must find a place on the route he is likely to take.”  Thousands, likely hundreds of thousands, of people began rushing to find a place where they could see him.  He was coming!  They had heard of him, maybe they had been in the crowd when thousands were fed, or one was healed.  They broke off palm branches and rushed to find a place to see him.  The emotion in the crowd swells and as Jesus enters the city, they begin to cry “Hosanna!” in unison, and their cries are deafening.

Somehow, after years and years of Sunday School lessons and Palm Sunday services, I had managed to see this only as a boisterous and joyous scene.  The cries of “Hosanna!” translated “Yeah, Jesus!”  But why the palm branches, and what is the literal translation of the word hosanna?  It was not until a few years ago, as I began to seriously focus on the final week of Jesus in my personal observance of Lent, that my eyes were truly opened to the truth and translation of this symbol and word. Things that now seemed so obvious had me wondering how I missed them for so long.

This was not an expectant crowd excited to see their leader, shouting “Yeah, Jesus!” and laying down leaves of a regionally appropriate plant to honor him.  No, this was a desperate crowd crying out to be delivered from Roman oppression, shouting “Save Us!, please Save us!” and intentionally choosing an obvious symbol of how they expected this savior to deliver them … by military victory.  This was not a groundswell of praise; this was a passionate plea.  This was a not an expectant crowd; this was one full of expectation.

There’s a temptation in knowing what is about to happen, projecting it forward and tying it together with future events for some grander application.  But for today, let’s stand shoulder to shoulder with the crowds who lined the streets.  Let’s smell the air, observe the faces, and truly hear the cries.  It is easy for us to judge the people on the pages of Scripture, but aren’t they also us?  Easy to judge those of “little faith” who cried out for a military hero to drive the Romans out and setup a sovereign and sacred state of peace and autonomy, but aren’t they also us?  Easy to judge those who valued strength and dismissed and rejected a King and kingdom whose cornerstone is humility, service and those who are outside the margins, but aren’t they also us?  “Save us, please Save us, and we have it all figured out as to how!” … isn’t that also us?

Oh, how I long to be one of those that Jesus healed along the road.  To be one of those in the crowds who were fed or saw him reach into the heart and life of one single soul and forever change it.  To have been healed, fed or saw and then left everything to follow him.  But who am I?  I fear I am more often one that is crying out along the parade route.

For today, let’s stand shoulder to shoulder with the crowds who lined the streets.  Let’s smell, observe and hear.  And then, let’s look into the face of Jesus riding on the back of a young donkey and ask … who am I, and who do I say you are?

Happiness is such a fleeting emotion. It is not unusual to be on top of the world one day, and a valley dweller the next. Circumstances can, in a moment’s time, give us a jolt of emotional bliss or bring sadness to our spirit. Yesterday my life was consumed with computer problems, and an overdose of winter weather. Truthfully, I was not happy. We all know that life is not about happiness, but it’s a normal response to crave it. There is something in all of us that desires to have a good day, to hear good news, or just to feel good about life. Even the Declaration of Independence declares that the “pursuit of happiness” is a right. Although we will never live a perpetually happy life, we can live a perpetually joyful journey. Happiness always is not realistic, but rejoicing always certainly is!

Great counsel on rejoicing comes from a man who was a prisoner in Rome. Paul was under house arrest when he wrote the book of Philippians. He wasn’t a man just spouting happy talk, but a man controlled by a true sense of joy that rose above any circumstance. It is one thing for someone in a good place to instruct others to rejoice, but it is far more meaningful to speak of rejoicing from prison. Under the inspiration of God, Paul gave the Philippian Christians words that still ring true today.

Philippians 4:4
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

All believers in Christ have the same opportunity for joy that Paul challenged the Philippians with. He made his point with obvious impact by repeating the word rejoice twice. If joy were an emotion like happiness, then we could assume that the feelings of joy would come and go, just like happiness.

“But joy is not a feeling; it is the deep-down confidence that God is in control of everything for the believer’s good and His own glory, and thus all is well no matter what the circumstances.”
The John MacArthur New Testament Commentary: Philippians

It is sad but true, that most believers don’t live with a deep-down confidence that God is in control. I would be less than genuine to proclaim that I have mastered the choice to live perpetually with joy. Studying this passage of scripture shows that rejoicing was to be a continual, habitual practice. We can rightly assume that God, through Paul, told the Philippians to live with a heart of rejoicing. Is the same challenge and opportunity for Christ-followers today any different? I don’t think so!

Living with a deep-down confidence that God is in control leads to a life of rejoicing. Circumstances will not always be good, but God always is. Our problem is that we believe intellectually that God is in control, but refuse to personally experience what He has made available. Accept today by faith, that God’s design for you is a perpetually rejoicing heart. It will take choosing His truth over your emotions, but the results are worth it. We may crave happiness, but what we really want (and need) is joy!

SPECIAL NOTE:  We are choosing again this year to walk intentionally through the final week of Jesus’ earthly life.  We will post each day and draw on people, events and truths from that specific day in Jesus’ journey, beginning with His “coronation” parade all the way to Resurrection … He is risen, indeed!  Our desire is to bring Holy Week alive in your personal journey.  Our prayer is that it will distract you from your everyday, draw you into close communion with God, and rightly prepare you for the solemn remembrance of Christ’s death on the cross and brilliant celebration of His Resurrection!

I really don’t get it!  Do you ever wonder why some people seem to just flow through life with everything seeming to work out well, while others can’t seem to catch a break? Obviously, everyone has struggles, but I think you know what I mean. Some of our struggles are caused by our own sin and bad choices, but sometimes it seems that the burdens of life often land heavy on certain people (and not only because of sin or bad choices).  I really just don’t get it. For the past week, I have been wrestling in my mind with God’s response to a significant event that happened in the lives of one Old Testament and one New Testament hero from Scripture. Both sinned and were guilty of a monumental failure.

In “Mike theology,” which is human to the core and not always looking at the life from God’s perspective, I find it a bit puzzling to consider the contrast of what happened with Moses and Peter in the aftermath of their monumental failures. I really don’t get it.  Moses was severely punished in being denied the opportunity to enter the Promised Land, while Peter is restored, preached at Pentecost and became an elder and leader in the early church.  Again, didn’t both men sin and fail miserably?  Still not getting it.

When I think of what Moses went through with the rebellious children of Israel, I want to defend him. It’s easy to look at the scene that led to Moses’ lack of self-control and wonder out loud, “was his reaction that significant?”  You may have dealt with a group of people who at best were frustrating, and at worst were infuriating. You may have even found yourself at wit’s end, and you finally just blew up. So I feel some empathy for Moses when he lost his temper with the complaining Israelites. That being said, in the midst of the conflict, Moses chose to clearly disobey God. God said speak to the rock, and he struck it twice instead. My hero lost his temper, disobeyed God and never entered the Promised Land as a consequence for his sin.  The story would not be complete without noting that, through God’s grace, Moses was allowed view the land before he died.

What would it have been like to walk with Jesus? Peter knew, and saw firsthand the greatness of the very Son of God. And then he denied Him…not once but three times!  As much as I want to empathize with Moses, I want to say to Peter, “Why didn’t you stand with courage?!”  However, I must confess that too often in my life, I have failed my Lord in critical moments.  So I am a bit understanding of his failure, and thankful for the grace of God that restored him.  Peter was then used incredibly by God.

Was God fair in the way He chose to deal with these two men? Is He fair in the way He chooses to deal with us today? Absolutely!  Although “Mike’s theology” wants to pull for Moses and yell at Peter, God knew exactly what He was doing. He dealt with them personally, just as He does with each of us. He was true to His righteous character with them (not ignoring sin, but showing grace) just as He does with us. He cared deeply for both Moses and Peter, just as He does for us. He knew the best plan of action after their failures, just as He does for us. You see, He is God, and He knew what He was doing with Moses and Peter, and He knows what He is doing with you and me. I get it!