2023 Lenten Devotional - Who Do You Say That I Am?

WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

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©2023 by Dr. John E. McKellar and Dr. Todd Renner

Published in the United States of America by White’s Chapel Media.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from White’s Chapel Media.

White’s Chapel Media is a publishing and communication division of White’s Chapel Methodist Church.

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New Revised Standard Version® (NRSV®)

Cover Graphics: Alec Hanson

Layout & Design: Susanna Cunningham

Printed in the United States of America.

Introduction to Lent LENT

From the earliest days of the Church, Christians have held with great reverence the 40 days of Lent. An annual invitation to a time of reflection, Lent is a season for self-examination and for penitence. It is a season of honest evaluation as we confess who we are and who we are yet to be. These 40 days ask us to go on a journey; they invite us to travel through the darkness of Calvary’s pain that we might celebrate the joy and love of Easter morning in new light and in new life.

To do this, though, we must prepare ourselves. Lent, then, is a time for prayer and fasting. It is a time for silence and for the studying of God’s Holy Word. It is a time when we are asked to take seriously the call of the spiritual disciplines. More, though, it is a time for us to be mindful, a time for us to be soulful … a time for us to be honest about what keeps us from following the way of Jesus Christ.

THIS YEAR

INTRODUCTION TO THIS YEAR’S SERIES...

Faith is a journey of questions seeking an answer. As Jesus taught, He constantly asked questions of His followers. To Jesus, faith was not a recitation of ritual, but an engagement of the heart where what we believe is translated into how we behave.

At the height of His popularity, the crowds were all abuzz about who Jesus was. They were wondering was He a great prophet or Elijah or John the Baptist come back to life. The disciples repeated those comments, but Jesus looked at them and asked, “But who do you say that I am?”

That is the question we all must answer. At the end of the day, our job is not to repeat what we have heard from others, but to own, deep in our souls, our own connection to Jesus.

As always during Lent, our purpose is simple: it is to elicit a response. It is for us to be inspired, to be challenged, and to be changed. Our purpose, hope, and prayer is that all our hearts will be “strangely warmed” as we reflect upon the Bible’s truth and the Savior’s call. May our answer to that question: “Who do you say that I am?” form the foundation of our lives!

Dr. John McKellar | Dr. Todd Renner

“Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’ And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ He said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’ And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’”

– Matthew 16:13-19 –

Week One: MESSIAH

MESSIAH

“As they left the council, they rejoiced that they were considered worthy to su er dishonor for the sake of the name. And every day in the temple and at home they did not cease to teach and proclaim Jesus as the Messiah.”

– Acts 5:41-42 –

Day One | February 22

ONE

The Promise

(Ash Wednesday)

Who are you? There, as you read this, who are you? Are you the totality of all your experiences? Or the sum of all your assets? Are you the amalgamation of all your thoughts, the product of all your dreams and desires and wildest imaginations? Are you identified by all your successes or defined by all your failures? Are you your joy? Your peace? Your faith? Your façade? Who are you? And who are we?

In truth, we don’t really know because we are still becoming who we are. We don’t really know because, actually, there are three of us reading (or

“In the same way the sun never grows weary of shining, nor a stream of flowing, it is God’s nature to keep His promises. Therefore, go immediately to His throne and say, ‘Do as You promised.’” – Charles Spurgeon –

writing) this right now: there’s the person we think we are, there’s the person others think we are, and then, there’s the person God knows we are. And Lent is determined to introduce us to that person (maybe for the first time).

Perhaps we have forgotten who we are. Maybe we’ve forgotten who we’ve been created to be as we’ve locked that beautiful and divine spark behind walls of pretense and deception and mimicry. Like an onion, we’ve hidden behind the layers of our defenses. We’ve allowed no one to get to know the “real us” – not even ourselves. Maybe it’s because we’re scared. Maybe it’s because we’re ashamed. Maybe it’s simply because we don’t think that others can see beyond our scars to appreciate our souls.

Whatever the cause, Lent invites us to peel back those layers, to delve deep into those longforgotten memories, to rediscover that long-hidden person that God created to love and for love.

It was one of those moments – a powerful, intimate moment – that we’re invited into: Jesus sitting with His disciples – tired, interested, curious, concerned. And, like He was prone to do, Jesus asked them a question: “Who is it that people say I am?” But after several responses, He made it personal: “But who do you say I am?”

It was Peter (as he was prone to do) who spoke first. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

The Messiah. The Christ. The anointed One. The promised One. He was the One expected for centuries, here before their eyes … and before ours. Anointed with the oil of sinners and by the tears of the su ering, He was the fulfillment of their greatest needs and the culmination of their utmost hope – but in ways they could never expect. He knew who He was, but He needed them to know, too. So, He showed them – not just in words, but in action … a long-awaited promise made real in flesh and blood.

Who are you? Maybe the only way we ever get to answer that question is by answering Jesus’: “Who am I?” – because it’s not just a question for Lent; it’s a question for life. And when we finally free ourselves from all our game playing, when we rediscover our true self, then we are truly free to surrender our everything to the One without whom we are nothing. For it is only by heeding this season’s call to repentance (“re-turning”) and selfreflection that we can truly confess Jesus as our Messiah, the fulfillment of our promise.

TWO

Day Two | February 23 Su ering Servant

“He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and a icted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”

Isaiah

Our Lenten journey began with ashes – and with good cause. They are the reminders of our own mortality, symbols of our own pain and loss and fragility. They are last year’s palms that’ve met the flames only to wilt and droop and scorch from the heat. Against such fiery orange

–

53:3-5 –

adversity, the green cannot endure. It withers. It chars. It becomes sooty black. But even there, in the disintegrating ugliness, beauty emerges: a sacred purpose, a holy use. It is the very promise of Scripture: that God trades beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).

It’s not a fair trade, to be sure. But God doesn’t count the cost. He only counts the consequence. He only counts the lives that are changed and the souls that are saved by the grace He came to give. But it was a gift purchased in the currency of su ering: redemption in the coinage of pain. Forty tempting days. Thirty silver shekels. Twenty-four dirty feet. One rugged cross.

Beyond every expectation of who the Messiah was “supposed” to be, Jesus came as a Man of sorrows, as One acquainted with grief and rejection. He came not as One immune from pain, but as One empowered to transform it. For it was in su ering that Jesus redeemed su ering – all su ering: in mind and body and soul. From the inside, He knew how it felt. And that, too, is good news. It means that God knows what to do about loss. It means that God knows what to do about grief. It means that God knows what to do about fear and loneliness and the dire emptiness that we so often feel.

It is good news because it’s perhaps the most ancient question asked by humankind: “Why do we have to su er?” If God is so good and heaven

so kind, then why is there such pain and needless violence around us (and within us)? If God is so loving and heaven so sublime, then why do hearts break with such godless regularity and why do we know the salty taste of our tears?

These are questions that defy answers – at least, from the outside of su ering – for empty words provide little relief when shouted from a distance. And to cling to the hope that God really is good and all-powerful seems, sometimes, to be impossible. It is the reality of the human condition. It is the tidal wave that grows from Eden’s ripple.

But Jesus never distanced Himself from su ering. He entered it willingly. For you and for me, He entered it. And conquered it. And rose beyond it to give us hope. To give us healing. To give us peace. He carried our sorrows because we weren’t strong enough. He carried our fears because we weren’t brave enough. It was from inside the storm that Jesus tamed the waves. It was from inside the darkness that Jesus showed the light. For it is this Messiah – anointed by blood and water flowing down – who o ers us a way, not to avoid pain and trial and temptation, but a way to overcome them from the inside.

16 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

Day Three | February 24

Our Conqueror

They called Him “Messiah” – the One who was to come. And they had waited. The people longed for this leader to arrive, to throw o their bondage and conquer their enemies. In their minds, they imagined great armies and a general with the courage of David and the wisdom of Solomon. That was the way to conquer once and for all. Psalm 22:27 was written on their hearts, “All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord; and all the families of the nations shall worship before him.”

That was God’s intent. How it happened, though, came in a mystery that confounded the experts. Jesus appeared as an ordinary man, a carpenter. He preached and demonstrated a Kingdom of grace

“A winner is not someone who conquers the world; a winner is someone who conquers himself.”

– Dr. MaryAnn Diorio –

THREE

and glory through miraculous signs and healings. He entered Jerusalem, not on a white horse brandishing spear and sword, as they imagined the conqueror would come, but on a humble donkey. And He constantly told them that His conquering would come in a way that was scandalous to them: His death on a cross. In fact, He had warned them of the nature of His conquering in John 12:31-32: “Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

It was a promise that sounded like the fulfillment of all Israel’s hope – a fulfillment of sacred words scattered throughout the Psalms and Prophets … but it came not in the way they expected. Much of Israel’s hope was well placed. God did intend to save His people. God did intend to end tyranny and abuse and oppression. But God chose a Kingdom not of this world. He chose a Kingdom where the first were last and where love was the greatest power. And Jesus would establish this Kingdom through becoming a crucified King.

So often, we want to conquer our problems with the tools of this world. Give us more power, money, and success we say, and then we will live God’s way.

Jesus says to us: if you want to conquer, go and practice the Beatitudes. These are the tools you will use:

• Being poor in spirit

• Being people who mourn

• Being meek

• Being those who hunger and thirst for righteousness

• Being merciful

• Being pure in heart

• Being peacemakers

• Being willing to be persecuted without fighting back

We conquer by being acutely aware of the Kingdom of God all around us. We open ourselves to the miracles of every day. We look at life not just with our eyes, but with our hearts. We find ways to spend time with God. And then, we listen. We learn from the unforced rhythms of Jesus’ life. The poet Adelaide A. Pollard captured so well for us how we conquer:

The Secret Place

“There is a place where thou canst touch the eyes Of blinded men to instant, perfect sight;

There is a place where thou canst say, ‘Arise!’ To dying captives, bound in chains of night.

There is a place where thou canst reach the store Of hoarded gold, and free it for the Lord;

There is a place here, or on a distant shore, Where thou canst send the worker and the Word.

20 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

There is a place where heaven’s resistless power Responsive moves to thine insistent plea;

There is a place, a silent holy hour, Where God Himself descends and works for thee.

Where is that secret place? - dost thou ask, ‘Where?’

O soul, it is the secret place of prayer!”

Day Four | February 25

FOUR

Who Came … and Is Coming

Atension has existed in the understanding of the faithful since the resurrection. We hold an unshakeable conviction that Jesus is the Messiah who would usher in a new Kingdom of God’s reign. This hope is espoused in Psalm 97:1-5, “The Lord is king! Let the earth rejoice; let the many coastlands be glad! Clouds and thick darkness are all around him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne. Fire goes before him, and consumes his adversaries on every side. His lightnings light up the world; the earth sees and trembles. The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth.”

Here is the quandary for Jesus’ disciples and for us. Jesus was crucified. On the third day, He rose

“There can be no Kingdom of God in the world without the Kingdom of God in our hearts.”

– Albert Schweitzer –

from the dead, and they saw Him ascend into heaven 40 days later. Such amazing, glorifying events they witnessed! And yet, there was still power in Rome, there was still a world that was not righteous or perfect or just. Every knee had not bowed, nor every tongue confessed that Jesus Christ was Lord!

What happened? The followers of Jesus began to understand that the Kingdom of God had come in Jesus, but that it had not yet come in its completeness. So, their longing and looking for a second coming took hold – an understanding that the Kingdom of God is “already but not yet.”

Theologian George Eldon Ladd wrote: “The early church found itself living in a tension between realization and expectation – between ‘already’ and ‘not yet.’ The age of fulfillment has come; the day of consummation stands yet in the future. The Kingdom is now moving through the lives of God’s people, one by one, and building an unstoppable roadway to a new, future, Kingdom that will express the fullness of the teaching of Jesus.”

Do we live with that same anticipation the early Christians had? We should not become fixated on the specifics of the coming Kingdom, but to fully embrace the Kingdom that is here now. Jesus warned us: “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father”

(Matthew 24:36). When we embrace the Kingdom now, the Holy Spirit will remove our fear and anxiety over the things we do not and cannot know … as we

22 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

wait (and work) with expectancy, knowing how this story ends.

On Christmas Eve last year, the Dallas Cowboys had an important game with their division rivals, the Philadelphia Eagles. I was excited to get to watch it, but the game happened to be scheduled right during the heart of our afternoon services … so I set the DVR at home. People kept asking me “do you want to know how it ends?” And I said, “Of course!” With that, they quickly shared with me the final score.

The next day, I watched the game with great joy because even though the Cowboys fell behind and the cause looked grim, I knew how it was going to end. The Bible tells us how this whole business of life ends. In the end, evil will be vanquished! Jesus will conquer! And all of God’s children will join in endless praise around the throne!

The Kingdom has come. The Kingdom is here. The Kingdom is coming in its fullness. And the Messiah, our Lord Jesus, will not be denied the ultimate gathering of His subjects, His children, and His family. With that understanding, we join the prayer of Revelation 22:20: “The One who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

Week Two: MY ROCK

MY ROCK

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell – and great was its fall!”

– Matthew 7:24-27 –

Day Five | February 27

The Rock of My Identity

At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus urged us to consider the foundation on which we build our lives and faith. Building on the rock required more time, labor, and sacrifice; but it would ultimately stand in the storms of life. Building on sand was quicker and easier. It was convenient and less expensive; but when tough times came, it could not support the structure. The building would be washed away.

Such is the rock of our identity. How do we see ourselves? Do we follow the customs and values of the world? Or is our identity rooted in Christ?

“On Christ, the solid rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

– Edward Mote –

26 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

He is the Rock that will enable us to stand in the challenges that we face throughout life.

When our identity is rooted in Christ, we know how valuable we are. We know that we are created in the image of God and that God’s love for us is unfathomable. When we accept Christ as our Lord and Savior, we are given a new identity. We become “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9).

Several years ago, a little boy named Eric was baptized at his church. During the ceremony, his pastor took the little boy in his arms and traced the cross on his forehead using a special anointing oil. Following worship, Eric’s family celebrated with a big backyard party. Family and friends ate burgers and chips and played volleyball under a summer sun. Eric, being only six months old, was left to nap in his backyard stroller. When his mom got him up, she discovered a problem. Basted on Eric’s forehead was the image of the cross. She had forgotten to wash Eric’s face following his baptism, and the oil that the pastor had traced onto his forehead acted as the opposite of a sunscreen. The Cross of Christ was imprinted on Eric’s forehead. For several weeks until it completely disappeared, that cross was a wonderful lesson of the meaning of baptism and a reminder that the cross of Jesus was “written” upon Eric’s forehead.

It became a powerful witness to others. Eric’s mom and dad had to explain the cross to the pediatrician, to their neighbors, to the stranger in the grocery store. For a few weeks, Eric was nothing less than a living children’s sermon. His identity was clear.

Is ours? Are we aware that, every day, we are God’s precious child bought with a price? Can people see our identity, not basted on our foreheads, but written in our hearts? It is much easier to wear a cross than it is to bear it daily in everything we do.

Day Six | February 28

The Rock of My Relationships

We share meals with them. We share games with them. We share classes and pews and secrets with them. But do we really share life with them – with those friends who populate our lives? Or do we play it safe? Do we allow them to know only a piece of us: that safe part that we’ve polished and honed and finally gotten just right? “Don’t let them get too close,” we tell ourselves, “or else we might get hurt … or, worse, they may see behind the mask. And don’t keep them too far lest they end up walking away.”

Like a social-climbing Goldilocks, we’re looking for “just right” – that perfect balance in the dynamics of our relationships, that “sweet spot” that meets our needs without costing us a thing. But relationships that cost us nothing are only worth the price we’ve paid. In the hard times, in the

“To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.”

– Mark Twain –

tough times, in the inevitable times of pain, we find that those friendships that have been built on sand crumble and fall away.

But in Jesus and the disciples, we see a di erent way. We see a better way – friendships of the heart and of the soul. They laughed together. And they cried together. And they prayed together – in fact, the one thing they asked Jesus to teach them (of everything they could’ve asked) was how to pray. Theirs were relationships of emotional and spiritual intimacy – built upon the Rock of Jesus Christ.

And it’s amazing to remember those who He called: simple fishermen, outcast tax-collectors, doubters, and sco ers and loudmouths. His wasn’t the ‘Who’s Who’ of Palestine. His inside circle was made up of folks just like you and me: people who struggled and fought. They were “faller-downers” … and “getter-back-uppers.” Were they perfect? No. But they were following the One who was. Did they always get it right? Absolutely not. They would deny and reject and run. They would ask to spew their “brimstoned” anger upon unwelcoming villages. For as close to the Savior as they were, there was still room to grow. And the same has to be said of all of us. But at least they were honest. At least they were authentic. They were vulnerable and exposed and real. Only relationships built upon Jesus ever dare to wade into those deep waters – trusting that as the winds and waters rise, so, too, will our faith and connection of soul.

Day Seven | March 1 The Rock of My Family

Iam a son, a brother, an uncle, and a nephew. I am a husband and father and cousin and friend. This is my family. They are family by chance and by choice, families of blood and families of heart. And I owe a specific debt to each of them. I am who I am because of who they helped make me to be. And they, too, are who they are because of who I helped make them to be. It is a beautiful and complicated design, a sacred web, a genetic dance choreographed by Providence for each of us. And just like every gift given from the Maker’s hand, there is a reason behind it. God gave us the families He gave us on purpose – it’s just ours to figure out why. For, truly, “family” is an act of stewardship. As the poet Kahlil Gibran put it: “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They

“You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.”

– Desmond Tutu –

come through you, but not from you. And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts; for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies, but not their souls; for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow.”

We are stewards of our families, guardians of their minds and bodies and souls. And just like with everything else in creation, they must be built upon something – a foundation for trusting and hoping and dreaming and loving. And, in faith, we know that the only foundation strong enough to bear such important weight is Jesus.

Seen through that lens, then, our homes become our first and primary mission fields. They become sanctuaries where we experience God and explore faith together. Seen through that lens, then, with Jesus as the Rock upon which our families are built, our “family-ing” becomes di erent. Our priorities, our goals, our language become di erent. Worship no longer gets second shift. Prayer and study and service suddenly aren’t fanciful “extras” that we wish we had time for; no, they become the very buttresses that support the entire home. Seen through that lens, then, family time becomes holy time as we remember who He is … and allow it to change who we are, too.

Day Eight | March 2 The Rock of My Career

Every Sunday after church, we would go home, change out of our “good clothes,” and eat lunch (typically, a roast that mom had put in the crock pot before we left that morning). Then, with bellies full and eyes heavy, dad would lay on the couch as mom would take up her favorite place in the sun by the sliding back door. But it was never done in silence.

Always.

Always after lunch, the television would be turned on, and dad’s race would be tuned in. Sunday was always the Lord’s day first … and Richard Petty’s day second. Mom would nap, and dad would snore. I’m not exactly sure what my brother got into, but I always watched.

“Success is how high you bounce when you hit bottom.”

– Gen. George Patton –

Always. I watched. For hours on end, I watched racers go in circles – making an almost endless left-hand turn. But I didn’t watch from the couch. I watched from my homemade flag-stand.

Always.

On Sundays after lunch, I’d pull two dining room chairs together, and I’d grab the set of racing flags that my grandma had sewn me, and I’d go to work. Green flag to yellow flag to white flag to checkered. It was my dream back then to grow up to be a NASCAR flagman. Maybe it was the lure of being in control. Maybe it was the seduction of power (inasmuch as an eight-year-old thinks of such things). But maybe it was just fun. It was always fun.

But things change. We change. We grow up, and so do our dreams. We get bigger, and so do our ambitions. Somewhere in the course of time, I put my flags away to follow a more “sensible” course (little did I know then what God had in store for me).

Always, though, I knew that God was calling – that God calls all of us. And if our homes and families are our primary mission fields, then our jobs are our second ones. Whether that takes us to a boardroom, living room, classroom, or locker room, it’s who we are (and Whose we are) in those places where we spend our time that makes the di erence.

We aren’t just accountants who happen to be Christians. No, we’re Christians who just happen to be accountants. We’re not just students who happen to be Christians. No, we’re Christians who just happen to be students. We’re not just (insert your profession here). No, we are Christians who just happen to be (do it again here, too)!

As followers of Jesus, our careers are not merely means to an end. They are sacred entrustments that must be built on the Rock. They are opportunities to proclaim God’s goodness and redemption and grace and love. As followers of Christ, we are called to be professionals –professing His faithfulness … always.

34 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

Day Nine | March 3

NINE

The Rock of My Perspective

When our lives are built on the solid rock of Jesus, we start to change our perspective. We start to be aware that things are not what they seem. What we think and how we feel may not reflect reality. God has a view of the world that is bigger than ours, and we need to learn to think with the mind of Christ (Philippians 2:5).

We may not recognize the name Margaret Rose Powers but more than likely we have read her famous poem, “Footprints.” Years ago, she wrote an article that shared the story behind her famous poem.

In the summer of 1964, Margaret was 20 years old and was recovering from meningitis on the family farm in Tillsonburg, Ontario. With meningitis,

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.”

– Alphonse Karr –

she was confined to bed for most of the summer. It was a di cult time for her, she wrote, “I’ve never felt so empty and afraid.” One August evening, she wrote in her diary, “Lord, have You left me too?”

An unusual chain of events took place. Her brother invited her out to dinner hoping to cheer her up. On their way, they ran into one of his friends who asked to join them. Later, the man who joined them for dinner, Paul, would ask Margaret out on a date. Months passed and, in early autumn, Paul asked Margaret to marry him. They went for a walk along the shore of Lake Erie. “The waves hissed into bubbles at our feet,” she recalled. “Paul stopped suddenly and pointed back at our tracks in the sand. ‘See our footprints, Margie? On the day we marry, they will become like one set, not two.’”

That night, the image of footprints stayed with Margaret. She could not sleep, so she began writing in her diary. “Dear Lord, I finally prayed, where are You now, when I need you so badly?” Then, as if in a dream, she wrote, “I saw a story unfolding in my mind’s eye. My pen took over as I began writing it out. I saw myself walking along a beach with the Lord, and scenes from my life flashed before us. But during the most painful scenes, I noticed only one set of footprints was left in the sand. I asked the Lord where He had been when I needed Him most. Then I wrote down His reply:

‘My precious child, I love you and will never leave you.

When you saw only one set of footprints, It was then that I carried you.’”

Her words have inspired millions. They say to us that we need to see life from God’s perspective. Anytime we think we have God figured out, we are probably wrong. Anytime we think we are in control, we are definitely wrong. Instead, we live by the wisdom of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18: “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary a iction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”

Day Ten | March 4

TEN

The Rock of My Faith

There is a song that we sing that is quickly becoming one of my favorites. It was written by David Crowder in 2017 entitled “All My Hope Is In Jesus.“ It is a reminder that, when Jesus is our Rock, our sure Foundation, He is the Source of our faith.

Crowder shared the story of how he wrote the song. He was visiting with some out-of-town friends, and they asked him if he wanted to go to a prodigal party. He said he had no idea what that was, so they told him. His friends said that their neighbor had a friend who was getting out of prison after 26 years, and they were throwing him a welcome home party. He had gone to prison an angry man and had rejected and turned on all his loved ones. But while in prison, he had come to

“Ruthless trust ultimately comes down to this: faith in the person of Jesus and hope in His promise.”

– Brennan Manning –

know Christ. He started to rebuild old relationships and make amends for the wrongs he had done.

On the night of his return, there was great excitement. When he got out of the car, there were great cheers; people were high-fiving and celebrating like they had won a playo game. They went inside for fellowship, and soon, guitars and praise and worship broke out. He said it was one of the most powerful moments he could remember.

The Spirit of the Lord was strong in that room. He reflected on that moment and wrote: “There’s not a single one of us that can’t identify with and understand what it feels like to be shackled and bound to something. We know we’re not living in the freedom that we’ve been given through Christ. This song is so hopeful because our hope is in something as grand as the salvific action of the one and only son of God. I got to see a physical manifestation of what that looks like - to find physical freedom and that’s what I want for my interior and that’s what this song is all about. My hope is in Jesus.”

That is why when Jesus is our rock, when our faith is rooted in Him, our hearts overflow with praise:

“All my hope is in Jesus.

Thank God that yesterday’s gone!

All my sins are forgiven.

I’ve been washed by the blood!”

Week Three: MY HEALER

MY HEALER

“That evening they brought to him many who were possessed by demons; and he cast out the spirits with a word, and cured all who were sick. This was to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah, ‘He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.’”

– Matthew 8:16-17 –

Day Eleven | March 6 Healer of My Body

Healing is the process of becoming well or being restored. It was one of the hallmarks of Jesus’ ministry, with 37 healing miracles recorded in the Gospel accounts. But, when we dive deep into these, we discover that the healing of our bodies can take many forms.

Instant Cure. Oftentimes, we see Jesus speak and a person is instantly cured. These are, typically, the healings that we pray for: quick, immediate, decisive. Miracles like this still happen; in ways we cannot really comprehend or control, they still occur. These healings have been proven medically and scientifically, but they are extremely rare.

Miracle of God’s Undertaking. God undertakes by nature to heal us. An example of this is if we cut

“As soon as healing takes place, go out and heal somebody else.”

– Maya Angelou –

our thumb, and we don’t do anything to it except to keep it clean, and by a miracle of nature – God’s nature – the body heals itself. God undertakes through doctors and nurses and medicine. God undertakes through other people to bring about healing in our life. It’s written into the very nature of things, and that’s one of God’s healing miracles, too.

Miracle of God’s Leading. God sometimes leads us to a cure. He may lead us to a doctor or a healing remedy, or a healing community. When it happens, most of us readily confess: “God guided in this!”

Miracle of God’s Grace. Not every malady or physical condition is going to be healed. We may face a condition that will stay with us forever – a painful circumstance, a su ering disease – in mind, body, or soul. Paul called it his “thorn in the flesh.” Sometimes, though, how we handle our troubles becomes a powerful witness. When people can see us overcoming with the glory of God on our faces, and with a radiant faith on our tongues, people can come to know the miracle of the su ciency of God’s grace.

The Miracle of the Triumphant Crossing. One day, we all will die, yet death can be the passage from life to eternal life – if we know the miracle of a triumphant crossing. The ultimate healing miracle of God comes in the resurrection, because in the resurrection, we are born into a new Kingdom.

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Our job is to continue to pray for healing and to comfort those going through the struggles of life –to always remind people that God is the One who heals. We need to stay focused on God’s presence with us – in whatever form our healing may take. The hymn writer Adelaide A. Pollard shows us how to do that:

“Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!”

TWELVE

Day Twelve | March 7 Healer of My Mind

“We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.”

It was my first day of college and only my second class. After su ering through an 8 a.m. Spanish lecture, I was running across campus to get to the science building. I knew the general vicinity of where it was supposed to be, but I didn’t know exactly. To make things worse, the chemistry class that I was in danger of missing was being taught by the Chair of the Pre-Med Program … and he was notoriously hard – especially on late-comers. So I ran. And I ran. And I ran some more. And I got there just in time to get lost again. Room (B)17 my schedule said. (B)? What on earth? Maybe “(B)” meant the second floor. Nope. Maybe “(B)” was a second wing. Wrong again.

With three minutes before class was supposed to start, I finally thumped my pride and asked

– Albert Einstein –

someone. Now, where I’m from, we don’t have (B)asements. Apparently, in Waco, they do. Basement, Room #17. With my heart pounding and my head throbbing, I hurried myself down the stairs – only to miss the third step. That’s when gravity decided to help. Tumbling wildly down the rest of the flight, I landed with a thud in the (B)asement that had eluded me. Bleeding only just a little, I picked myself up, adjusted my backpack (and my hair), and walked into (B)17 right as my professor was closing the door.

I would like to say that’s the last time that I’ve gotten lost. But that would be a lie. In fact, it’d be a big whopper of a lie. Since then, I’ve gotten lost in big cities and lost in the woods. I’ve gotten lost in the airport and in my car. Most frequently, though, I get lost in my thoughts. I get lost in my dreaming and my planning and my worrying. I get lost in the mind-made fear that occurs when my thinking turns against me, when my mind shirks renewal and goes back to its basest preoccupations. It’s obsessive. It’s exhausting. It’s malignant … and addictive. Both feeding itself and feeding on itself, the mind that needs healing isn’t empty; it’s simply full of the wrong things.

“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus,” the Apostle Paul would instruct the Philippians (Philippians 2:5). “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever

is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things,” he would beg them just two chapters later (Philippians 4:8).

Jesus is our Healer. And that’s not just a physical promise. It’s an intellectual one, too. And it’s an emotional one, too. And it’s a spiritual one, too. It’s about what we think and how we think. It’s a promise for all of us who are wounded. It’s a promise for all of us who get lost … even the cerebral, head-prone thinkers of this world. It’s for those of us who like to think that we’re thinking when, in actuality, all we’re really doing is trying to escape. It’s a promise for all of us who need to hear Jesus say, “You are found.”

46 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

Day Thirteen | March 8

THIRTEEN

Healer of My Eyes

“None so deaf as those that will not hear. None so blind as those that will not see.”

He was a giant of a man – not in size, but in significance. The maternal grandfather of my wife, they called him Keepaw. And though I only knew him for a short while, Keepaw’s stories were legendary: his sport fishing in the Gulf, his kayaking across Canada, his award-winning photography. Even late in life, one of his greatest loves was to load up the motorcoach and hit the road with Meemaw. He was a man of keen wisdom and courage and insight, though he was a man without sight. Keepaw was blind. But, in a way, he could see better than any of us.

It’s a story we read throughout the Gospels: Jesus opening blind eyes. And He still works that miracle today. He still heals our eyes because we

– Matthew Henry –

are all blind to something. We can be blind to the many blessings He has given us (ingratitude). We can be blind to all the needs that surround us (selfabsorption). We can be blind to opportunities, to beauty, to moments, to miracles. Jesus still heals our eyes – the way we see our world, the way we see others, and the way we see ourselves.

It’s a spiritual sight that we need – vision unmarred by pride and prejudice. It’s seeing the world around us (and the world within us) through the eyes of Christ: letting our hearts break for what breaks His. But it’s also about joy. It’s also about peace. It’s also about the sublime opportunity to see the very hand of God in action. It’s us allowing the Spirit to sweep away every distraction so we might see those things that really matter.

Jesus still opens eyes. He still heals vision. He still transforms sight – giving us the courage, not just during Lent but throughout life, to look deep within ourselves and, then, out into the world. Who do we say that He is? How have we seen Him move? Though dimmed by pain and sin and regret, our eyes can still yet see the silhouette of His grace and mercy at work – allowing us, with the great hymnist of old, to proclaim: “I was blind, but now I see!”

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Day Fourteen | March 9

FOURTEEN

Healer of My Heart

One of Jesus’ great desires is to heal our hearts. Over the years, we carry an accumulation of hurt and pain. Failures. Disappointments. Grief. People who have stood us up and let us down. We can carry these around with us like a heavy backpack we can never lay aside. And these burdens can rob from us the joyful life that our faith should give us. Jesus knew how hard this would be for us. He constantly spoke words of healing for our hearts. “Let not your hearts be troubled. Come to me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

The beginning place to heal our heavy hearts is to be honest about the subject of forgiveness. For

“When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future.”

– Bernard Meltzer –

50 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

Jesus, this was a non-negotiable. Our whole spiritual lives are blocked by a lack of forgiveness.

I heard a man tell a story of his college years. A classmate did something that hurt him. He was determined to get even, so he picked up a sticker burr that had fallen from a tree on campus and put it in his pocket. The burr was covered in sharp, porcupine-like thorns. The plan was to carry the burr around until he saw the fellow who had wronged him. He wanted to throw it at him or rub it on his back. All day long, he kept the burr in his pocket, waiting for his chance. Every time he took a step, the burr stuck in his leg. Every time he sat down, it hurt even more. Finally, at the end of the day, he pulled it out of his pocket and realized that the thorns were all gone. They were sticking in him!

A lack of forgiveness is like that. It weighs down our hearts. It hurts us more than the person it is directed to. That is why Jesus commands us in the great prayer that we must forgive others if we want God to forgive us.

During these days of Lent, we need to honestly reflect on the state of our hearts. Are there issues we are holding onto that we need to forgive? Are we weighed down with the burdens of yesterday? We need to struggle with the rhetorical question that Lewis B. Smedes raised: “Why do people surrender their tomorrows to the unfair pain of their yesterdays?”

Jesus wants to heal our hearts. Remember His

invitation to us: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

Day Fifteen | March 10 Healer of My Soul

FIFTEEN

The healing of our souls is about finding a connection to something greater than ourselves. However, deeply connected to our inner world is our environment. We can stay unsettled by the chaos of our modern world –filled with technology, social media, and complete disconnection from other humans. In our world, the need for spiritual connection and deep healing is greater than ever … but it’s often overlooked. Spiritual healing is where we are reunited with our own essential being. It is the place where we remember that we are created in the image of God and that we are His beloved children. When we connect with our true nature, God’s wisdom and love will guide us. And His Spirit will be our Guide.

“The mind is like a fertile garden in which anything that is planted, flowers or weeds, will grow.”

– Bruce Lee –

The knowledge of what is, and what will be, will live at our core and give us hope to face the future. In our times of prayer, we need to set aside some space for the healing of our souls. These steps can guide us:

• Be present. Ask the questions, “What are we trying to avoid? What are we really chasing in life? What is the truth we don’t want to face?” Get clarity on what it is and name it.

• Face our emotions. Navigate what we are feeling. Go to the cause. What are these trying to teach us? In this step, God will lead us to discern what we need for healing.

• Develop an action plan to help us connect with the Spirit of God within us. Let the Holy Spirit clarify for us what we need to do.

• Adjust our perception and release the pain, person, or situation that is holding us back. We can change how we think. We can let old patterns go. We can forgive others … and ourselves.

We have to believe; we have to hold onto the truth that God wants to heal our spirits. We must do everything we can to live for that day. I love the way the poet Christine Evangelou put it:

“One day, you will heal. One day, you will be grateful for the deepest cuts of pain.

54 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

One day, you will glance at yourself, And see a stronger person through your reflection.

One day, you will kiss away your hurt … gently, and with grace

Until then, use it all to propel you forward. Like a white-hot pyre through your starspangled eyes, A fire to regenerate every shadowy cell. And open your heart to every experience, Knowing that one day, You will search your heart, And understand that Love is the only thing to ever hold onto.”

Day Sixteen | March 11 Healer of My Past

“Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.”

Guilt. Shame. Regret. They are heavy words.

Ugly words.

Crippling words.

But Jesus is our Healer – even the Healer of our past.

In truth, too many of us are carrying around the weight of yesterday’s baggage. And the darkness loves little else more. “Get them to remember their pain! Get them to remember their faults! Get them to remember their failures and brokenness and sin!” the devil howls. “Get them to remember everything except the love and grace of God! Distract them from the cross! Distract them from the promise! Distract

– Voltaire –

them from the Gospel of forgiveness! Make them remember their past at the expense of their future,” he schemes.

Guilt is a liar; and shame, a thief. They are the sworn enemies of grace. And while we cannot change the past – what we’ve done or what others have done – we can learn from it. We can grow from it. We can allow Christ to redeem it, to transform it. Though we cannot change our past, we can allow it to change us. And it will. For better or for worse, our past does change us: it will leave us bitter, or it will leave us better – there’s no avoiding it. The trick is to allow Jesus into that intimate, internal conversation.

And what might feel like guilt may actually be the voice of the Spirit. What may feel like shame may actually be conviction – not the power of the devil trying to pry us away from God, but the power of the Spirit trying to woo us back to God. That’s how God works. That’s how God heals.

He pursues us. Think back to the Garden of Eden. It was there where God first went looking for us

there, in the land of our own disobedience, there, in the shadow of the tree of our pride and stubborn arrogance. Clothed in homespun garments, God found us; ashamed and confused, God found us. And He healed us. We, who’ve eaten from the Tree of Knowledge, the Almighty still invites to partake of the Tree of Life.

But we have to be real. We have to be vulnerable. We have to be honest about what we’ve done,

56 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

about what we’ve left undone, and about what we’ve allowed to be done. We must confess that we’ve broken God’s will … and God’s heart. But in the same breath, we must confess, too, that God still loves us, that God still pursues us, that God still calls us beloved. These are the words of conviction. These are the healing words of grace.

Week Four: MY PROVIDER

MY PROVIDER

“Surely the Lord your God has blessed you in all your undertakings; he knows your going through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you; you have lacked nothing.’”

– Deuteronomy 2:7 –

SEVENTEEN

Day Seventeen | March 13 Hope

“Listen to the mustn’ts, child. Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”

– Shel Silverstein –

In Genesis, chapter 24, Abraham is an old man worrying about the future. He sends a trusted servant back to his homeland to find a wife for his son Isaac. His servant arrives in Nahor and prays that God will show him the right woman by having her come and draw water from a well and o er to draw water for his camels as well.

Before finishing his prayer, a young woman named Rebekah came to the well and did exactly as he had prayed. Rebekah would be the person Abraham had hoped for. She was from the right

family lineage and was known for her beauty and faithfulness.

We read this story, and we see how God was orchestrating the details to answer Abraham’s prayer. This was no coincidence that Rebekah arrived at the right time, at the right place, with the right heart.

One commentator noted: “Rebekah had to plan her day to go out to the well exactly as she did to arrive exactly then, every event of that day had to take place exactly as it did. The slightest delay or lack of delay and it wouldn’t have happened. Behind every event are countless previous events in an incalculable chain of time leading up to and causing that event to happen just as it does. And it is not only a chain of time, but of space. Surrounding every event are countless other contributing events, countless interactions and confluences. A gust of wind, a drop of rain, the movement of the sun and stars, the gravity of a galaxy.”

That is why we hope. We know that our Savior is providing for us in ways that we cannot begin to fathom. Even as we pray, a chain of events are taking place that will converge to answer our prayers. That is why we a rm with Paul: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28).

We hope because we trust that the God

60 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

who created the universe is at work directing, coordinating, and moving events for our good.

So, in times of trouble, when the future is uncertain … when we feel stuck and don’t know what to do, take a deep breath. And remember the Source of our hope. There is more going on than ever meets the eye. God loves us with a love that is greater than time and space!

Day Eighteen | March 14 Courage

Every season of life brings challenges. We may face possibilities that require us to leave our comfort zones and try something new. Or changes may have been forced on us that we don’t want to face. In those moments, Jesus provides courage for us to dare to move forward.

When God places a burden on our hearts, do we have the courage to act? Martin Niemöller was a great German pastor who stood up to the Nazis and stood up for the Jewish people. Finally, they threw him into prison. As he was sitting in his jail cell, the prison chaplain came to visit him, and sat

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.”

– Nelson Mandela –

down and said, “Brother, why are you in this jail cell?” To which Niemöller replied, “Brother, why are you not in this jail cell?”

We so often hear these great stores of faith and think our lives are too ordinary. Not so. God has a call and plan for each one of us. Most of ours will not be the epic stories that end in martyrdom, but we are called to right some wrongs and to witness to our faith. And to do that takes courage. It takes courage to:

• Carve out time to serve

• Mentor a child

• Collect food for those who are hurting

• Engage in a ministry of the church

• Be a good neighbor who lends a helping hand

• Invite people to church

• Share what we believe about Jesus when a door opens

• Love those we disagree with … and to not verbally attack when challenged

G. Campbell Morgan was one of the great English preachers, teachers, and evangelists of the last century. As a young seminary student, he fell in love with a certain young woman. He was reluctant to propose. He said, “I think God has laid it on my heart to say some radical things to the church. I may not be a success; I may be persecuted. I don’t want to drag you into that. In five or six years, perhaps I’ll be established, and then I can o er you my hand in marriage.” Her immediate reply was, “If

64 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

I can’t climb the mountain with you, I’d be ashamed to meet you at the top.”

Here is the question of Lent: What mountains are we climbing for Jesus?

NINETEEN

Day Nineteen | March 15 Strength

“Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. Never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tired in the morning, noon and night. But the body is never tired if the mind is not tired.”

David Livingstone was one of the heroes of the 19th century. He was a brilliant scholar. He studied Greek, theology, went to Glasgow University, and graduated with a degree in medicine. He could have been anything he wanted to be: a professor, an author, a doctor. But God called him to the mission field and led him to serve in the interior of Africa. He went to places where no missionary had ever been seen and where the Gospel had not been preached before.

– Gen. George Patton –

The sacrifice he made was incredible. While out in the bush, on a preaching mission, one day, a huge lion leaped on him and clamped his teeth on his shoulder and crushed it, leaving his left arm totally useless. One of his helpers killed the lion and saved him. Through that ordeal, Livingstone was nursed back to health by a woman named, Mary, who became his wife. She went with him to Africa; and as the years passed, they had five children.

As he served, the sacrifices continued. He lost a child to illness. Loved ones died back in England. The most crushing blow was when his wife was struck down by an African fever. He buried her under a huge tree. After having a short memorial service, he went back to his cottage and wept like a baby. He had made unbelievable sacrifices and endured unbelievable burdens. But at the end of that horrible day, this is what he wrote in his diary:

“My Jesus, my King, my Life, my All; I again dedicate my whole self to Thee. I shall place no value on anything I possess or on anything I do except in relation to the Kingdom of Christ.”

After 16 years in Africa, Livingstone went to England for the first time. He had become an international celebrity, which really meant nothing to him at all. He was invited to speak at the University of Glasgow where he had graduated many years before.

Now, it was the custom of that day for undergraduates to heckle visiting speakers. So they

were ready for this preacher with their toy trumpets, whistles, rattles, and all manner of noisemakers. They even had pea-shooters. When Livingstone was introduced, they were all ready to make fun of him, to laugh at him, and to disrupt his speech. That is, until they saw him.

Livingstone came to the platform with a tread of a man who had already walked 11,000 miles. That left arm hung uselessly at his side. His body was emaciated; his skin deeply tanned from 16 years in the African sun; his face wrinkled from the ravages of several fevers that had racked his body. He was half deaf from rheumatic fever and half blind from a branch that had slapped him in the eyes.

Before he could even begin to speak, the students did something unheard of. They put their noisemakers down and, silently, they all stood on their feet, out of respect for this man of God. Because they knew they were looking at the epitome of sacrifice. Throughout Livingstone’s entire speech, not one student sat down and not one student said a word.

The story of Dr. Livingstone was told to generations of school children. A story of faith and sacrifice. But most of all, a story of staying with it. A story that when God guides, God provides. Countless people have been inspired by this account. In our way, in our own time, can we find the endurance to run the races before us? So that, one day, we can meet Jesus face to face and a rm with the Apostle

WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

Paul: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).

Day Twenty | March 16 Joy

When the poets once wrote, “It is a happy talent to know how to play,” I think they knew that the day would inevitably come when all of us would be faced with a monumental decision, a crucial junction – in time – that would chart how we would live out the remaining days that God gives us. I think they knew that we would find ourselves on that well-worn and deeply-rutted path that winds its way to a fork: in one direction is fear and, in the other, joy.

Now, it may seem that the word joy is misplaced in the melancholy days of Lent. It may not seem

“The bow cannot always stand bent, nor can human frailty subsist without some lawful recreation.”

– Miguel de Cervantes –

70 WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

entirely correct for us to celebrate it, to ponder it, to mention it during this journey toward the crucifixion - during this season when even the Hallelujahs are snatched from our liturgy. But it is only that joy that has the power to move us onward to our next step, for Nehemiah tells us that it is the joy of the Lord that is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10).

It is an unfortunate rarity in the Church, these days, for us to be exhorted to joy. It is a tragic oversight that we have forgotten the power of play. You see, there is something wonderful that happens when we open our souls to the possibility of joy: we find new hope, new love, new meaning. The pursuit of recreation is, in a very real sense, a pursuit of re-creation … and God, our Provider, is still in the “business” of creating!

Whether from the battle scars of living or from the glut of our everyday responsibilities, we are tempted to lose that childlike (not childish) sense of wonder. We are tempted to lose that sense of grandeur, that sense of creativity and imagination that stems from the image of God, in which we are created. Somewhere, as the years take their toll like the waves eroding the shoreline, we give in to the seductive temptation of age and responsibility … and we forget how to play; we forget how to have fun – good, wholesome fun.

Maybe it is that we’ve confused the two. Maybe we’ve always considered growing up and growing old to be synonymous, but nothing could be farther

from the truth. As it happens, it is a good and right thing that each of us should grow up, that each of us should “put away childish things,” that each of us should mature in our faith, our reasoning, our emotions. It is a necessary step in everyone’s life that we should grow up. But what about this business of growing old?

Though it is true that age breeds wisdom, it seems proper enough to say that the greatest wisdom is this: to enjoy each day, to be fully present in each moment that God provides. This beckons us not to the dusty garments of old age but back to that joy of our childhood. It begs that we, once again, experience the profound wonder and curiosity that we once knew – all gifts from our gracious Provider’s nail-scarred, out-stretching hands.

Day Twenty-One | March 17 Passion

TWENTY-ONE

It has become the mantra of a generation: “I am spiritual but not religious.” And I know what they mean when they say it: “I believe in God but not in organized religion.” And when I hear it, I always twist an old Will Rogers quip to respond: “Oh, I am not a member of an organized religion. I am a Methodist.”

It is sad, to be sure, that there are so many who have just a passing curiosity with our Lord. It is sad that there are so many – even sitting in the pews

“Faith is the highest passion in a human being. Many in every generation may not come that far, but none comes further.”

– Søren Kierkegaard –

of Christian churches – who believe only in theory, who accept ... but only to a certain degree.

Don’t take this Jesus-stu too seriously or people will think that you’re weird. Don’t get too involved or you might get hurt. It’s better to have a chilly, “almost” relationship with Jesus than to have none at all, right?

It seems that the Gospels would disagree. To those who knew Jesus best, it was impossible to have a relationship like that. It was unthinkable that we would settle for having anything less than a living, thriving, ever-growing, ever-deepening relationship with our Lord. He was more than just a good man. He was more than just some sage guru with all the answers. Jesus did not come to teach the way or even to show the way. Jesus was and is the Way. He is our Way. He is our Messiah, our Savior, our Provider.

And one of the greatest gifts (and utmost responsibilities) He entrusts to us is passion. Though cheapened by the world, passion is more than just some cheap and tawdry urge. It’s not about sex, for it’s far more than any physical act. It’s deeper than that. It’s stronger than that. It’s about purpose and meaning and strength. It’s about finding something, Someone more important than ourselves – and giving ourselves entirely to His will. It is to sacrifice and su er for a cause so supremely worthy that we rejoice in the pain – that is what passion actually means: it means “to su er.”

WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

And at no time in the Christian year are we ever so aware of that fact than during Lent, during these days that confront us with Calvary’s cruel agony and Christ’s redeeming love. And God equips us, He provides us with the ability to do the same: to be passionate – to stoke that fundamental and burning desire within us that urges us to engage this world, to embrace this world – our world, our mission field.

In an age that wants to make everything easy, in a time that craves user-friendliness and simplicity, faith stands as an outlier. It was never intended to be easy. It was never intended to make sense. It was meant to challenge us and to stretch us. It was meant to commandeer every cell of our being. More than mere intellectual assent, for the believer, faith is the passionate, lifelong, all-consuming pursuit of Christlikeness – a journey that sco s at our o er of “almost” and demands our everything.

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Day Twenty-Two | March 18

TWENTY-TWO

Purpose

“I am a most noteworthy sinner, but I have cried out to the Lord for grace and mercy, and they have covered me completely. I have found the sweetest consolation since I made it my whole purpose to enjoy his marvelous Presence.” – Christopher Columbus –

In that thin space between sleeping and waking is the wispy gray of twilight. Not quite alert, not quite awake, we are just a shell of who we will later be. With our showers and toast, and morning cups of co ee comes a new person: driven, aware, ready.

For too many of us, though, twilight lingers. Yes, we are up. Yes, we are dressed. Yes, we are ready for the day, but we’re not quite sure why. We go through the motions. We know what’s expected, but it all seems so pointless: another meeting, another project, another party, another call. Like an unending

WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

circus train, we watch our lives speed past us, and we feel powerless to do anything about it. So we survive another day only to repeat it tomorrow.

But what if life didn’t have to be like that? What if we could live with meaning and passion and with transcendent purpose every day? What if even the most menial of tasks could take on eternal significance?

Such is the life for which we were created. Such is the life to which we’re called. Such is the life of those whose purpose is found in Christ – enjoying His marvelous Presence. It is a life of being fully human, of being fully used, of being fully awake. It is a life lived in mission and service to others. No longer is the bottom line or report card the measure of our worth, for it is found in the cross of Christ. No longer does the latest fad or fastest gizmo consume us, for it is now God that fills us up. It is Jesus who provides our purpose.

What, then, is required of us, and what’s the point? The prophet Micah tells us: “To work justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God”

(Micah 6:8). It is to make the most of life by making the most of the moments that make up our lives: loving God and loving our neighbors.

So, wake up. Stir from your slumber, you who sleepwalk through life. Rise and greet the day ... and make it the mission field God has always intended it to be.

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Week Five: MY SUSTAINER

MY SUSTAINER

“Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”

– Isaiah 41:10 –

Day Twenty-Three |

TWENTY-THREE

March 20

Worship

“We’re here to be worshipers first and workers only second. We take a convert and immediately make a worker out of him. God never meant it to be so. God meant that a convert should learn to be a worshiper, and after that he can learn to be a worker ... The work done by a worshiper will have eternity in it.”

– A.W. Tozer –

This quotation from A.W. Tozer gives us much to ponder. The heart of our ministry as a church and as individuals is worship. Worship is the fuel that sustains us and draws us closer to Jesus. Worship reframes how we think … and how we live.

At its most basic level, the Church is a gathering of believers to worship God. When we read the Book of Revelation, when we get that sublime glimpse of heaven, we see that there is going to be continual praise and worship around the throne of God.

And yet, how often do we miss the point by defining worship in too small of ways. We think of it in terms of times or venues or musical styles. We use words like contemporary or traditional or blended. These are the tools that lead us to worship; but at its heart, worship means reverence. It means to be overcome by awe and gratitude at the invitation of the Creator to know Him. It means to adore Him, to venerate Him, to perform acts of homage to God. Worship, in fact, shares the root word of worthy. Literally, it’s a gathering of believers who adore God because He is worthy. Here is the great danger for us, though. Over time, we get caught up in our acts, traditions, and rituals. We go through the motions … but we don’t adore. We forget that Jesus sustains us through our praise. He encounters us and calls us to come and follow.

We are sustained by worship. But our worship is not confined to a sanctuary, chapel or worship space. It must overflow into all of life.

A great example of this was St. Francis of Assisi, who lived some eight hundred years ago. In Francis’ call from God, he heard a distinct

summons to put his worship and adoration of Jesus into practice. Francis wrote: “As for me, I desire this privilege from the Lord, that never may I have any privilege from man, except to do reverence to all, and to convert the world by obedience to the Holy Rule rather by example than by word.” Francis had a deep commitment to both the proclamation and embodiment of the Gospel.

He lived with the tension of the way we worship and the way that we live out that worship. He walked away from family wealth to take a vow of poverty. It is said that he would go to extravagant parties of the wealthy and preach the Gospel. When walking the streets of Assisi, he would preach to those he met. He was even said to preach the Good News to birds!

The challenge of Lent is to learn from St. Francis. We should not lock our worship up inside a building. Instead, we should bring our adoration and praise into all the world. A.W. Tozer was right: “The work done by a worshiper will have eternity in it.”

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Day Twenty-Four | March 21 Prayer

TWENTY-FOUR

Legendary Coach Bud Wilkinson served as the head football coach at the University of Oklahoma from 1947 to 1963, compiling a record of 145–29–4. During his time there, the Oklahoma Sooners won three national championships (1950, 1955, and 1956) and 14 conference titles. Between 1953 and 1957, Wilkinson’s Oklahoma squads won 47 straight games.

The 1950s were a di erent time. During the football season, Coach Wilkinson would have his quarterback move into his house for the season. The coach and player became like father and son. They lived under the same roof, ate meals together, they

“Whether we realize it or not, prayer is the encounter of God’s thirst with ours. God thirsts that we may thirst for him.”

– St. Augustine –

rode to practice together, and studied plays together. They spent time studying film, diagramming plays, and talking football continually.

Someone once asked the coach why he did this. He responded: “Because if that young man spends enough time with me, he will begin to think like I think. And then when he gets out on that field, he will know what I want him to do.”

That is the very heart, the very essence of prayer: to spend time with Jesus. He sustains us through our times of prayer. What if we thought of prayer as having a sta meeting with Jesus? It should never be a monologue, but a conversation. Our goal is to listen and sense what Christ is saying to us. We should strive for His thoughts to be in us, so that instinctively, when we go out in the game of life, we will do what He wants us to do.

This prayer can help us receive our marching orders:

Amen.

“Lord, I o er myself this day for the work You want accomplished, for the people You want us to meet, for the word You want to be uttered, for the silence You want to be kept, for the places You want us to enter, for the new ways You want pioneered, Go with us along the way, Lord, and enable us to realize Your presence, at all times and in all places.”

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Day Twenty-Five | March 22

TWENTY-FIVE

Fasting

Ijust needed a gallon of milk. That’s all. But I had committed the cardinal error of grocery shopping: I had gone to the store hungry. Nearly a hundred dollars later, I was leaving the store with pizzas and chips and yogurts and cheese. My hunger got the best of me. And I don’t think that I’m alone, for it’s a battle that most of us are unprepared to fight … much less to win.

That’s why, from the earliest days of the Church, fasting has been one of the most important – but most taxing – disciplines. To go without food (or other conveniences), to deny oneself, to join in the su ering of the poor and needy, to share in the

“If physical fasting is not accompanied by mental fasting it is bound to end in hypocrisy and disaster.”

– Mahatma Gandhi –

pain of the cross – there is something powerful, something purifying that happens when we abstain from those things we tend to take for granted. In our lessness, we get to experience God’s muchness. Unfortunately, this critical practice of the faith has now fallen into the bygone ways of the saints for lack of use. Or maybe it’s deeper. Maybe it is that we, “Almost Christians” (as John Wesley put it), have forgotten the power and the necessity of going without for fear of missing out. Maybe we fear the hunger. Maybe we fear the pain. Maybe we fear what might happen if we discover that life really is simpler, better with less.

And it’s strange: how God, the Giver of all good things, sustains us: how He meets us in our hunger and wants to supply what is lacking, how He proves to us that “enough” is far less than what we think we need. It’s more of Him. It’s less of us. That’s the heart of fasting: it’s the cry of a heart that’s homesick for heaven.

But that’s a hard proposition for we lovers of things. We love our food. We love our technology. We love our chocolate. We love our co ee and tobacco and wine. We love our negativity and our excuses. We love our gossip and our lies, and we love the way that we have neatly packaged all of it into these lives we “Almost Christians” are almost living. For many, it’s almost enough.

Almost.

For we have let all our nibbling on the world’s

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emptiness ruin our appetite for God’s fullness … and emptiness will never sustain us. Gluttons in a world of beggars, we have feasted at the tables of want and greed and power, and we have forgotten the whispered invitation to Christ’s table – a table set, not with the golden chargers of royalty, but with the meager plates of the poor. It is a humble meal for common folks; it’s our Host that makes the table so special. And, if we are honest, we must confess that we are starving – starving for what the world is incapable of feeding us.

It is Lent, then, that calls us to sit and to feast on fasting. It’s a mystery to be sure: this season when we discover that less is oftentimes more, when we discover that mental and spiritual sacrifice is just as important as material sacrifice – if not more so. It is during these days that we discover that our true hunger is not one of the belly but one of the soul – a hunger that only Jesus can fill.

Day Twenty-Six | March 23 Study

TWENTY-SIX

It was my second semester of Hebrew, and finals were coming quick. Now, we had been told exactly what was going to be on the exam: a passage from the Book of Jonah that we’d have to translate. But try as hard as I could, I just couldn’t figure out the rhythm. I just couldn’t figure out the rhyme. The translations escaped me. So, I determined to do the next best thing: I simply memorized the entire book in Hebrew. I aced the test; I passed the class … but I missed the point.

“Bible study without Bible experience is pointless. Knowing Psalm 23 is di erent from knowing the Shepherd.”

– Kingsley Opuwari Manuel –

And I wonder how often that’s true of our times in God’s word? Instead of allowing them to transform us, we settle for the “next best thing”: letting them inform us. And maybe that’s where it starts for some of us … but it can’t be where it ends. God wants to encounter us. He wants to encourage us. He wants to change us. And one of the surest ways of experiencing that change is to put ourselves in positions to be changed.

It’s in opening our Bibles and opening our lives to what the Spirit wants to say – to what the Spirit needs to say – to our heads and hearts and souls. And a quick, obligatory, check-it-o -my-list sort of approach simply won’t work. It’s in allowing God to sustain us through His Truth: His promises and His presence that anoint our times of study. It’s in allowing the Bible to read us just as surely as we read it. It’s in knowing – not just the verses – but the Author.

So, if you’re not already doing so, set aside some time every day to consistently be in Scripture. Find a reading plan. Take your time. Ask your questions. Let your curiosity and imagination be stirred – knowing that God had you in mind when these words were penned. And read with expectancy because there’s a message waiting there for you. There’s a truth waiting there for you. There’s grace and love and mercy waiting there for you. The Sustainer is waiting there for you.

Day Twenty-Seven |

March 24

TWENTY-SEVEN

Generosity

We are sustained in life by the amazing generosity of Jesus. Our model for giving is Jesus on the cross saying, “Father, forgive them for they know now what they do.” We receive faith as grace. It is not earned or deserved. It can only be received. And the joy of the faith comes when we learn to be generous like Jesus. Giving is not about the size of our bank account, but the freedom in our hearts from sharing all that we have. Generosity is expressed not only in

“You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.”

– John Bunyan –

tangible gifts, but in the way we share our time, talents, and interest in others. Generous people become a conduit for the Holy Spirit to flow through them into others.

The key to this kind of Jesus-like generosity is to learn to give freely with no strings attached. When we give with strings attached, we have an expectation for others to fulfill. They are now in our debt, and we expect something from them. We have ulterior motives and hidden agendas. O ered like that, the purpose of our giving is to meet our goals. It is selfishness disguised as service.

In contrast, when there are no strings attached, the gift is totally the recipient’s with no expectations at all. There is no indebtedness involved in the process; we expect nothing in return. Our motive is simply and singularly to bless those around us and to be a conduit for Jesus’ love flowing into the world.

How do we practice Jesus’ kind of generosity? Here are some things to consider:

• Determine Our Motive. Is the gift truly a “gift” or is it really a “loan”? If we expect something back, then the item is probably more of a loan than a true gift – perhaps a loan with a very high interest rate! On the other hand, if we expect nothing back, then it would appear to be a true gift.

• Clarify Our Expectation. “This is a gift –with no strings attached. It is yours to do

with however you choose. I expect nothing in return.” Or, if you do have “strings,” at least tell the receiver what you expect in return. Be sure and place a warning alert on the gift so that your intentions are clear.

• Remember Our Intention. If the recipient does in fact fail to be appreciative or does not use the gift in the way we would have preferred, remember that we gave it as a gift. In doing so, we let it go, so it’s no longer ours to consider one way or the other. Release it again … and forget it!

• Refrain from Personalizing. When we attach strings, we’re tempted to interpret the receiver’s behavior regarding the gift as some type of personal reflection upon us.

Accordingly, we “take it personally” when the receiver’s response is not what we expected. In contrast, when we give the gift “freely,” there is nothing personal about the reaction. We allow the recipient to choose their own response to the gift.

Remember, our blueprint for giving is Jesus. It’s His generosity that sustains us and inspires us. And He loves us with no strings attached. Even when we are ungrateful and rebellious, He still doesn’t give up on us. We are sustained by that generosity. May we be conduits so that His love can flow through our giving and touch others!

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Day Twenty-Eight | March 25 Silence

TWENTY-EIGHT

Years ago, as a part of my ordination process, I was required to go on a spiritual retreat. And it’s a funny thing to say: that I was forced to be “spiritual” – but that’s another topic for another time. Through a bizarre sequence of errors (most of them were actually my fault), I wound up registering for a week-long spiritual retreat at a monastery down in south Texas – a week-long silent retreat. Surrounded by a thousand acres of nothingness, the setting was the perfect environment for silence. There was no cell service, no distractions, no lights, no noise. But the outside of that experience betrayed nothing of

“True silence is the rest of the mind; and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment.”

– William Penn –

the inside of it: the hardship of silence. For a week, surrounded by sheer nothingness, I was forced – or, maybe, allowed – to confront all the clamor inside of me: all my insecurity, all my fear. There was no place to hide. No excuse to o er. All there was, was silence – deep, penetrating, deafening silence. All there was, was silence … and God.

And, to be honest, I have to confess that it took me about three days to actually hear Him. It took about 72 hours to “detox” from all the noise – all the voices and all the whispers in my head – to finally hear the “still small voice” of the Sustainer. But when He spoke, things changed. I changed.

There is a sacred rhythm that God created between silence and noise: God created the universe by speaking: the great silence of nothingness shattered by the eruption of sun and moon, and star and earth. And when creation was complete, God rested in silence … and He commanded us to do the same: to remember and to reflect on what He’d done.

Yes, there are times God speaks through angels and thunder and burning bushes; but many times, God speaks in silence. In fact, the wise amongst us have always sought the balance between silence and din. King Solomon wrote that there is “a time to keep silent and a time to speak” (Ecclesiastes 3:7) – and discernment knows the di erence. Jesus retreated from the crush of the crowds; He escaped the questions of the disciples to be still and silent, to

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reconnect with God – with God, who meets us in the stillness; with God, who sustains us by the silence.

But do we know its power – the sacred power of silence? Silence that convicts, silence that confronts, silence that compels our broken hearts toward Home. Just because we don’t hear the Lord’s dulcet voice does not mean that He is absent. It just means that He does not move amidst the noise – the noise that distracts, the noise the deters, the noise that would deaden our ears to wonder. It just means that we must train our souls to heed the silence, for it has much to say.

Week Six: MY LORD

MY LORD

“But in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an account of the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame.”

– 1 Peter 3:15-16 –

Day Twenty-Nine | March 27

TWENTY-NINE

Unconditional Surrender

In September of 1945, the USS Missouri docked in Tokyo Bay. It would be the site of one of the most momentous events in all the world’s vast history. On its teak deck, envoys of the defeated Japanese army would concede defeat. There they would surrender – unconditionally. After years of war, after millions of deaths: peace. With the stroke of a pen: peace.

Without excuse, without recourse, without any right to an exception: an unconditional surrender was what it took to end the violence and cruelty and loss. And it is still what’s required.

“The greatness of a man’s power is the measure of his surrender.”

– William Booth –

It is one of the basic tenets of our faith (maybe it’s the basic tenet): the claim that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Lord. And, truth be told, we love the “Savior” part – rejoicing in His salvation and in the grace that does for us that which we could never do for ourselves. It’s the “Lord” part that trips us up. To say that Jesus is our Lord is to say that He is our Master, and that we are His servants. It means that we let go of all our wants and thoughts and desires and control. It means that we let go of all that we think is ours. It means that we surrender –unconditionally – to align our will with His.

It is a way of unquestioning obedience: obedience that’s not a once-in-a-lifetime decision but rather a daily dying to ourselves. It’s the daily choice to take up our cross and to follow the way of our Lord.

Like the faint memory of a place that we’ve once been, we’ve a notion of what it means to follow Jesus; but in our daily comings and goings, we forget the way to that place. We remember its flavor, but we forget its taste. We remember how it felt, but we forget how it feels.

It is a strange truth to be sure, but the only way for us to go forward into that life that God has for us is for us to go backwards, to return to a place of simplicity and honesty, to return to a place of goodness for Goodness’ sake. In the language of the faith, this act of turning, the act of obedience, this act of surrender is called repentance. It is the

willful determination of the faithful to turn (or better, to re-turn) to those people we were created to be: God-centered instead of self-centered, othersserving rather than self-serving. It is the training of our minds, bodies, and souls to surrender all that we want for all that we need.

When I was growing up, we’d run and play until the streetlamps started coming on. There, trees were the masts of ships and pine thickets were the dragon’s lair. The world was sweet and unstained (and I guess I was, too). But as the sun slowly sank behind the horizon and the last pink ribbon of day faded into black, my mom would come to the porch and call that it was time to come home.

Repentance is that call. It is the call of heaven for us to stop pretending and to return home, for us to remember and to be those people we were created to be.

Day Thirty | March 28

THIRTY

Whole-hearted Humility

Born into the world He created, the King of Kings was birthed not in a gilded palace but in a borrowed stable. And after His cruel death, His pierced body was laid not behind walls of marble but behind the stone of a borrowed tomb. His first companions were lowly shepherds; and His last, a struggling group of outcasts and sinners.

“Who do you say I am?” He asks. From the very beginning, He was showing us. He was telling us.

“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

– Ernest Hemingway –

He was the humble Savior of the world. He was our Rock and our Redeemer. He was the Great I Am. And He still is. Jesus is our Lord.

And the world might look upon His earthly accomplishments with scorn, upon His career trajectory with contempt. The world might say that He didn’t accomplish anything: He died without a family, without a home, without even so much as a place to be buried … but we know better. We know better than to judge Jesus’ life by what He amassed and His worth by who He knew. We know better than to think that Jesus was a failure. In fact, we claim Him as our model for success.

Why, then, do we live so di erently? Why do we work and worry so incessantly? Why do we want to live a life that is so markedly di erent than our Lord’s – one that is acclaimed as an outward success? Could it be that we want others to think that we’ve “made it,” that we’ve arrived, that we’ve accomplished something with our lives? Or could it be that we want to believe that about ourselves?

In the waking hours of the night, when we’re alone, with only our thoughts and dreams and fears, we know this about ourselves: we know that we’re one mistake away from failure, one misspoken word away from heartbreak, one misstep away from being exposed as the frauds we know ourselves to be. So, to compensate for our fear and our frailty, we muster all our strength to play the “game” one more time. We fake the

WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?

answers and pretend to be who-we-know-we’renot one more time … and we waste our lives away one proud game – one arrogant day at a time – never realizing that the success we’re looking for is actually within the fear, itself. For it is that willingness to be exposed for who we really are that is the heart of humility. It is that desire to be real that marks the way of our Lord. But it’s a path not to be taken by the fainthearted or by the half-hearted, for only the wholehearted will endure this way of su ering and sacrifice, this way of humility and surrender. It is a Truth that we must return to time and time, again: that the way of the Gospel is never one of upward mobility, but one always of down: down to the lowly, down to the lost, down to those who’ve fallen on their faces … for it is only there that we meet the God who picks us up.

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Day Thirty-One |

March 29

THIRTY-ONE

Sincere Love

Matthew Chapter 20 records a moment days before Jesus will enter Jerusalem. James and John’s mother comes and petitions that her sons be given a place of honor in heaven. The other disciples hear of this, and they are indignant. Jesus had to sigh as He, once again, saw them struggle to understand what His “sincere love” was all about. He gathered them together, and He shared these words: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you;

“Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”

– Henry Van Dyke –

but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many,” (Matthew 20:25-28).

Jesus painted the picture of His kind of sincere love: a love that we are called to share. Don’t use power to overwhelm others. Don’t seek to be great. Don’t strive to be first. Don’t expect to be pampered and served. Give our lives away to rescue others.

We worship a Lord who has done all of this for us. How often, though, does our love have a di erent tenor? How often are we, like James and John, jockeying for our power and position?

Robert Raines once prayed a prayer that tragically captured the human condition:

“Lord, I size up other people in terms of what they can do for me; how they can further my program, feed my ego, satisfy my needs, give me strategic advantage. I exploit people ostensibly for your sake, but really for my own sake.

Lord, I turn to you to get the inside track And obtain special favors, Your direction for my schemes, Your power for my projects,

Your sanction for my ambitions, Your blank checks for whatever I want.”

If we are honest, we can hear Jesus say, “This is the how the world lives, but it shall not be so with you.” We are called to pursue a higher form of love. A purer, sincerer love that we are given by our Lord Jesus.

Years ago, when my son Jay was three years old, he developed pneumonia. We could not get him to take his medicine, and he was a sick little guy. We reached the point that we had to put him in the hospital so that he could have an IV to deliver his medicine. I will never forget the moment the doctor entered the room. My sick little three-year-old was in that big bed, hooked to medicines and monitors. The doctor saw the scene, and this overwhelming look of love and compassion flooded his face. Jay was not just a patient. He responded as a father, and that moment meant so much to me. I got it. I could not bear to leave Jay alone, so that night, I crawled up in that bed and held him in my arms so that he could sleep.

When we practice sincere love, we don’t have to think about serving or being last. We just respond from a heart that has received love, from a heart that had been held and comforted by everlasting arms, from a heart that simply knows no other way to respond. Our Lord Jesus has shown us how to love. Let us follow His example.

Day Thirty-Two | March 30

THIRTY-TWO

Unflinching Loyalty

There is a moment etched in my mind, a moment that happened in the spring of my sophomore year in high school in 1973. I had a horrible year that year. Things were just out of sync, and I was trying too hard to be liked. My identity had been wrapped up in student politics, but I had lost two elections in a six-week period. I will never forget something that happened the day I lost the second race. I went home and was

“Now everyone dreams of a love lasting and true, but you and I know what this world can do. So let’s make our steps clear that the other may see. And I’ll wait for you … should I fall behind wait for me.”

– Bruce Springsteen –

really down in the dumps. I was sitting on the back porch of our house when a miracle happened. Friends started showing up unannounced and unplanned. Four or five of them came over, and we just laughed and joked and made plans for the weekend. Not once were school elections mentioned. Not once did my defeats come up. And as I enjoyed that moment, it dawned on me: they were not my friends because of what I did. They liked me for being me. And they showed up without being asked. That is loyalty.

Loyalty is defined by traits like devotion, fidelity in duty, a firm allegiance, and constancy. These are the very traits that bound Jesus to His disciples. They lived, traveled, and shared ministry together. They witnessed first-hand not only what Jesus taught, but how He lived it in relation to others. Through their time together, a deep loyalty was born to their Lord. On that fateful last night together, Jesus warned Peter that, before the morning came, he would deny Him three times. Peter’s response showed the fidelity in his heart: “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” Peter would fail that day. But that failure was not final. He would go onto to model that loyalty that Jesus envisioned and would become the great leader of the Christian movement.

That is why Christianity is not an individual expression of faith. It is born in community. It is developed in shared adventures of ministry. When

we strive to live like Jesus, a deep loyalty is born in us. Loyalty to each other and to our Lord. We become friends who show up. Friends who others can trust. We try to build an authentic community of love that leads people to knowing Jesus as Lord.

During Queen Victoria’s coronation festivities, she attended a performance of Handel’s “Messiah.” It was announced that, as was traditional, everyone with the exception of the queen would stand at the beginning of the “Hallelujah Chorus.” As was commanded when the chorus began, everyone rose with their heads bowed out of respect. As the choir sang those famous words, the queen was deeply moved. Her lips trembled, tears came to her eyes, and her body shook. Finally, as the chorus reached its pinnacle with the words “KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS,” the queen couldn’t remain seated any longer. She rose to her feet and did something no reigning monarch had ever done before: when Queen Victoria stood, she removed her crown. She wanted to signal her highest loyalty. She wanted to bear witness to that fact that Jesus Christ was indeed King of kings, and Lord of lords. Maybe that is what loyalty asks of us. To lay down our crowns and to recognize that Jesus is the Lord of our lives. To lay down our crowns and commit to serving and loving each other. To lay down our crowns and build a community of love and grace in this world.

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Day Thirty-Three | March 31

THIRTY-THREE

Heroic Selflessness

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is o ered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the o er of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

– C.S. Lewis –

He went out of his way to serve. He didn’t have to. No one expected it. No one would’ve noticed had he just walked away. But he didn’t. He stopped. He noticed. He cared. He acted. It sounds like any of the moments recorded in the Gospels. It reads like the memoir of a saint. But it’s

not. It’s simply a moment from my life. Faced with an impossible decision – one with no right answer, a stranger saw in my face my confusion. And he sat down.

I knew him only by reputation, though I’d seen him in the halls. He was a pastor, a professor, a leader, a legend. All the same, he still sat. And he asked me what was on my mind. It was one of those “any port in the storm” sort of times, so I told him. I told him about my predicament. I told him about my fear. And he just listened. He’d ask a question occasionally (maybe just to let me know that he was still engaged); but, for the most part, he just listened. And when I was through, he o ered three sentences of sage counsel that changed my life forever. Then he stood up, shook my hand, wished me well, and disappeared.

In a world dominated by our schedules and our own self-concern, it was heroic. And I don’t use that word lightly, for not all heroes have capes. And they don’t all wear uniforms. Sometimes, the heroes we need come dressed simply in the attire of the ordinary: ordinary folks doing extraordinary things for others. And that’s the key: for others. That’s what makes a hero – extraordinary selflessness.

So, it is heroic: anytime we will set aside our agendas and plans for another, anytime we’ll give and serve and sacrifice – following the example of our Lord. But that requires deep, internal change. It demands that we abandon our “too-weak, halfhearted desires” that center on our own lives – our

time, our money, our priorities, our families, our health, our safety, our convenience, our “mud pies” – to discover the fulfillment we only find in helping and serving and loving one another.

It’s faithful selflessness. Faith-filled selflessness. Heroic selflessness. It is the very call of Christ that thrusts us beyond ourselves, to love something other than our own wants, to pursue something other than our own needs; to love in a higher and truer and purer way: realizing that we need one another, realizing that we are a part of one another inasmuch as Christ is a part of us. It’s a life spent one day at a time, a life spent one moment at a time, trying to outdo one another in gentleness and goodness and compassion; it’s a life of loving in a way that’s blameless and fearless – loving how our Lord loves: with understanding and patience and gratitude and forgiveness. It’s a life wholly (and holy) displeased with our ordinary, “me-first” attitudes that finds itself by losing itself in the way of Jesus Christ.

Day Thirty-Four | April 1

THIRTY-FOUR

Radical Hospitality

“Hospitality means primarily the creation of free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to o er them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to o er freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.”

– Henri J.M. Nouwen –

There is phrase we use to describe how we welcome others into the presence of our Lord: “Radical Hospitality.” Radical hospitality is hospitality that goes beyond being friendly; it is welcoming guests with a warmth, openness, and an authenticity that significantly exceeds

expectations. It is intentional friendliness that surprises and delights people by making them feel noticed, giving them personal attention, and providing excellent follow-through. It is a warmth that makes folks feel so welcome they want to return again and again.

When we live into the principles of radical hospitality, we give people a taste of the Kingdom of God. When hospitality is done well, it changes lives. Maya Angelou is often attributed with saying that “people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

The di erence between friendliness and radical hospitality is intentionality. We have to notice people: not just at church, but in life – for that is the way Jesus lived. We need to o er a warm greeting to each guest we encounter, and then be on the lookout for people and environmental issues that need special attention. We then need to follow through on our contacts and let people know that we welcome them into our lives.

We have a wonderful experience of radical hospitality at White’s Chapel: an event that begins the Advent season – we call it our Christmas Festival. It is a magical evening where families come for fun and fellowship. They come for the animals and for the food, and for the live nativity; they come to connect with each other and, prayerfully, with the real Purpose of the season.

And it’s all free. It’s a gift that we give to the community.

Following this past year’s festival, we received a note from a community member who shared her experience. She brought her children and a teacher friend. This is what she wrote of their night:

“Hello! I just wanted to extend our heartfelt gratitude for the Christmas event you made available to our community. It was such a memorable and magical evening. A special thanks for making it handicap accessible and friendly. My nine-year-old daughter is terminally ill with a neurological disorder, so every smile meant the world to us. She is losing her vision as well so it was so nice to see her taking in all the holiday magic. Her two younger siblings made some amazing memories with her as well.

Her favorite parts of the evening were visiting Santa’s Reindeer, watching the train village, petting the animals, the fireworks show, getting kisses from the Angels, and of course the cotton candy! She was smiling and laughing all evening.

We wanted to extend a special thanks to the reindeer team. They were so accommodating and friendly to our daughter. Thank you once again!”

That is the church at its best! When we live into the principles of radical hospitality, we give people a taste of the Kingdom of God. By showing our neighbors that they are welcome and accepted, we become physical manifestations of Christ’s love. In so doing, we tear down negative stereotypes

of Christians and include others in the circle of our love. Jesus is our Lord! May we show that through loving and welcoming others with radical hospitality.

Week Seven: MY SAVIOR

MY SAVIOR

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

–

John 3:16 (KJV) –

Day Thirty-Five | April 3

THIRTY-FIVE

Saved from Sin

He came riding on a donkey: not on a warhorse, not on a great, powerful stallion … He came on a donkey, on a lowly colt of peace. But the crowds didn’t get it: they still thought He had come to overthrow the power of Rome; and, as they waved their palm branches, they shouted: “Hosanna!” (Lord, save us now!) But they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand that their greatest enemy wasn’t Rome, that it was

“Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God, He, to rescue me from danger, Interposed His precious blood.”

– Robert Robinson–

inconceivably bigger. They didn’t understand that the foe Jesus came to overthrow was death and sin and the grave. It was hopelessness and despair, surviving at the expense of really, truly living.

After everything they’d seen … after everything they’d heard and felt and experienced, still they didn’t get it. Still, they didn’t understand who He was. And my fear is that we don’t either.

Jesus is our Savior. Above all else, let this be unmistakably clear. Who is He? He is the One who saves us from all our sins, from all our guilt, from all our shame. And He does so, not because of who we are, but because of who He is – worthy and righteous and loving and good! To truly receive Him, we must realize that we need Him: this One who enters our storms. This One who enters our fears. This One who enters our brokenness and addictions and jealousies and pain. He’s the One who enters the prison cells of our souls to set us free. In fact, He takes our place behind the bars. He frees us. He delivers us. He saves us. From the wickedness within and around us, He saves us. And He does so from the inside.

When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into the fiery furnace in the Book of Daniel, the guard looked in to see not three men … but four. It is the promise of God’s saving presence with us, in all of life’s trials – and there are going to be trials. It’s the promise of joy in life’s battle, of peace and power in life’s storms – and there will definitely be storms. It’s this uniquely-Christian

understanding that, in faith, we are never alone

even if it sometimes feels that way. And we have to own that sometimes it does: sometimes it does feel that way … like we’ve been abandoned, like God isn’t hearing us, like He’s a million miles away. And, for as much as we hesitate to admit that, it’s just a part of the reality of faith that sometimes the eyes of our hearts can’t see. And that doesn’t mean that we’re not saved. It doesn’t mean that we’re bad Christians. It just means that we’re human Christians … just like St. Augustine and John Wesley and Mother Teresa – these “spiritual giants” who, in their journals, all admit to feeling the exact same way. But what they found was the ability, the power, the faith to trust even then – especially then – that God was real, that God loved them, and that God was present in a way that their too-small minds couldn’t comprehend. From the inside, they experienced the presence and freedom of the Savior … and we can, too.

Day Thirty-Six | April 4

THIRTY-SIX

Saved from Fear

The last days of Jesus’ life were coming too fast for the disciples. Jesus was teaching incredibly deep parables about the Kingdom of God. He was being hammered with trick questions from the religious elite. The disciples were trying to take it all in; but deep in their hearts, things were spinning out of control. They had to be thinking: How can we help? What can we do? There were trick questions about taxes and our heavenly bodies that Jesus responded to. And then a lawyer

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” – Plato –

came and asked about the greatest commandment in the Law. He hoped to stir a great debate among the teachers. But Jesus answered in a deftly brilliant way: by quoting two of their most familiar Scriptures. He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matthew 22:3739).

All of our fears and all of worries about how we live for our Savior are answered in heeding two simple commands: loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves. We are set free from fear when we choose to focus on love every day of our lives.

President George H.W. Bush lived an amazing life full of action and passion. At his funeral, his son President George W. shared the secret of his dad’s spirit. He said: “To his very last days, dad’s life was instructive. As he aged, he taught us how to grow old with dignity, humor, and kindness – and, when the Good Lord finally called, how to meet Him with courage and with joy in the promise of what lies ahead. One reason dad knew how to die young is that he almost did it –twice. When he was a teenager, a staph infection nearly took his life. A few years later, he was alone in the Pacific on a life raft, praying that his rescuers would find him before the enemy did. God answered those prayers. It

turned out He had other plans for George H.W. Bush. For dad’s part, I think those brushes with death made him cherish the gift of life. And he vowed to live every day to the fullest. Dad was always busy – a man in constant motion – but never too busy to share his love of life with those around him.“

Day Thirty-Seven | April 5

THIRTY-SEVEN

Saved from Guilt

The major event of the Wednesday of Holy Week was Judas’ decision to betray Jesus for 30 silver coins. The faithful through the ages have debated Judas’ motives. Rather than a conspiracy with the ruling elite to end Jesus’ life, many believe that Judas was trying to help Jesus. Help Jesus start the revolution that would overthrow Rome. Help Jesus utilize this vast throng gathered for the Passover in Jerusalem who were ready to fight. Help Jesus usher in His

“There is no sense in punishing your future for the mistakes of your past. Forgive yourself, grow from it, and then let it go.”

– Melanie Koulouris –

new Kingdom. Judas was so caught up in his own agenda that he couldn’t hear Jesus sharing that He would be a di erent kind of Savior, one who would conquer through love and not a sword.

And when it all went wrong in the garden, Judas responded with horror. Shock. Disbelief that the battle did not start. And when he realized what he had done, he was ashamed and embarrassed. He could not forgive himself or let go of his shame. So, in the pit of guilt, he took his life.

Ultimately, guilt flows from our mistakes when we can’t let go of our agendas and trust God’s way. Guilt flows when we try to force the dawn rather than let it unfold. Guilt flows from our controlling natures.

There is a Jewish folk-tale about a young man who aspired to great holiness. After some time working to achieve it, he went to visit his Rabbi.

“Rabbi,” he announced, “I think I have achieved sanctity.”

”Why do you think that?” asked the Rabbi.

”Well,” responded the young man, “I’ve been practicing spiritual disciplines for some time, and I have grown quite proficient at them. From the time the sun rises until it sets, I take no food or water. All day long, I serve other people with no expectation of being thanked. If I have temptations of the flesh, I roll in the snow or in thorn bushes until they go away. At night, before bed, I administer lashes to my bare back. I have disciplined myself so as to become holy.”

The Rabbi was silent for a time. Then he took the young man by the arm and led him to a window and pointed to an old horse being led away by its master.

“I have been observing that horse for some time,” the Rabbi said, “and I’ve noticed that it doesn’t get fed or watered from morning to night. All day long, it has to do work for people and it never gets thanked. I often see it rolling around in snow or in bushes, as horses are prone to do, and frequently, I see it get whipped. But, I ask you, is it a saint or a horse?”

The point of the old story should sear our hearts. We can’t earn our salvation by our good works or stringent discipline. Ultimately, that just leads to frustration and guilt … or to a misplaced sense of pride. We are set free from guilt when we focus on our Savior, who died for us while we were yet sinners. Who loves us for who we try to be rather than who we are. Judas couldn’t learn that lesson. May we learn from his mistake.

Day Thirty-Eight | April 6

THIRTY-EIGHT

Saved by Grace (Maundy Thursday)

“… nevertheless …”

It was scandalous. The job reserved for the lowest slave in the house. Jesus took o His robe, tied a towel around Himself … and stooped. Washing the mud clods and animal droppings o His disciples’ feet, He stooped. Here, the very God who created us from the dust of the earth, now washed that very dust o of us. It was grace. It was love – love unmerited, unearned, undeserved. Love in action. Love doing something. Love not in theory, not in pretty, frilly words … but love with dirty hands, love exemplified by selfless, humble service. Jesus stooped and served them – they who would soon

– Jesus –

desert Him; He stooped even at Judas, who had already betrayed Him. It was love without limits; love without excuses; love without exception, expectation, or border.

Those were the bricks from which Jesus would fashion His rebellion; that was the foundation of this new Kingdom. It was love – a love that wouldn’t, couldn’t, and didn’t quit.

And afterward, they shared a meal. Simple bread. Bitter herbs. Poured out wine. But it all meant something. It all pointed to something: the humble, stooping of the Savior to redeem the lost –the lengths that the Almighty would go to (and still goes to) to love us and heal us and save us. And when they were through, He prayed.

Amidst the gnarled olive grove of Gethsemane, He prayed. And like those snarling, twisting branches, He was knotted and conflicted, too: His humanity fighting against His divinity. “Let this cup pass from me,” He prayed. “I don’t want to do this,” He prayed.

“Nevertheless,” He prayed.

“Nevertheless, but not my will, but Yours be done.” For on that night, when Jesus would be betrayed by a traitor’s kiss, on that night when our Savior would willingly give Himself up for us, He showed us what it is to bring about the Kingdom on earth. He showed us how to live out our sacred call – with one foot on holy ground and the other in the world’s common mud.

And He calls us to do the same: to go out of our way to serve … and to stoop. It means that we stop paying it lip service and actually inconvenience ourselves. It means we put our lives on hold for others – especially for those who have no way of paying us back. It means that we bear the uncomfortable silences when there are no words. It means that we sit together and laugh together and cry together. We fall together and we rise together. United not by shared aspirations but by a common love … a Love that displayed itself by giving itself to die on a cross for us. It was grace: free but never cheap. It is grace: free but costing everything. It was grace: this act of selfless obedience, this moment of pure surrender. And in it, Jesus showed us that it is in the stooping selflessness of the believer that God’s glory dwells. It is there that His will for us is accomplished. It is there – where master becomes servant and enemy becomes friend – that Jesus becomes Lord.

Day Thirty-Nine | April 7

THIRTY-NINE

Saved by Sacrifice (Good Friday)

Their words hung in the air, suspended by cruelty and hatred and spite. “Give us what we want!” they demanded. “Give us Barabbas!”

There was no other way.

There had never been another way.

His fate was sealed as, suddenly, He was surrounded by Roman soldiers. Their leather groaned. Their armor rattled. Their swords scraped a demonic, metallic hiss. And He was led away. Beaten. Poked. Mocked. Jeered. Crowned with a diadem of thorns.

“No, not him! Give us Barabbas!” – The Crowd –

The worst was still to come.

He knew the pain and agony that would soon be His, as His promise became a joke and His name, the punch line. Splinters dug deep into holy skin as they led Him through the winding streets of Jerusalem. Spit upon and heckled, He came to that place of brutality and shame, to that place outside the stoic walls of the city that had rejected Him. There, they stretched out His broken body upon the cross; and with the deftness of a master, the soldiers drove spikes into sacred flesh. With cold precision, the soldiers went about their duties –never knowing that this Man that hung above them was the very Son of God, the Savior of the world.

Suspended there, raised to the God to whom He was returning, Jesus bore the sins of the world. He took on Himself its shame and its brokenness; He took on Himself its faults and its failures. With only thieves to attend Him, Jesus cried out … and it was finished. The earth quaked, and the sun went black.

Perfection had died. Hope was dead.

Love was crucified.

It was sacrifice. Saving, sacred sacrifice. Willing, woe-filled sacrifice.

But this is not just some story told by frauds and believed by fools. This is our story. This is our Savior. They were our sins that placed Him on Calvary’s tree, our darkness that snu ed out His light. Jesus died to save us from our brokenness,

from our wantonness, from our addictions and anger and fears. Jesus died that we might find grace. He died that we might find hope. He died that we might find a new way to live – showing us who He is … and who we can be, too.

Day Forty | April 8

FORTY

… but who do you say I am? (Holy Saturday)

“The waiting itself is beneficial to us: it tries faith, exercises patience, trains submission, and endears the blessing when it comes.”

The day that divides the horror of Good Friday from the joy of Easter Sunday is known as Holy Saturday. It is a day of sadness and loss and grief as the emptiness on our calendars between these two holy days mirrors the emptiness of Jesus’ disciples’ souls. In some Christian traditions, this day is called: “No-Name Saturday,” that deep, dark, gritty day between the completed crucifixion and the miracle of the resurrection. The Anglican “Book of Common

– Charles Spurgeon –

Prayer” prohibits the celebration of the Eucharist on Holy Saturday. It is the day of mystery on which all metaphors break down, the day of pause and silence in the narrative of Christ. But without pause and silence, no story can be told. In the original, ancient Apostles’ Creed, it comes to us in these four words that are seldom commented on: “He descended into hell.”

It was into this dark, dismal, scary space – a space defined by the ugliest kind of separation from God’s presence – that Jesus voluntarily ventured. George Mackay Brown, in his poem “The Harrowing of Hell,” put it like this:

“He went down the first step. His lantern shone like the morning star. Down and round he went Clothed in his five wounds.

Six steps follow: on second he meets Solomon; third David; fourth Joseph; fifth Jacob; sixth Abel

On

the seventh step down

The tall primal dust [Adam] Turned with a cry from digging and delving.”

“Tomorrow,” ends the poem, “the Son of Man will walk in a garden Through drifts of apple-blossom.”

But before tomorrow, we wait. Just like the disciples that day, we ponder a world without Jesus. We ponder the question: Who do we say He is? Who have we known Him to be?

Remember their story: hurriedly, they had buried His body before the Sabbath began. Then they went home to get some rest. And cry. And grieve. Sure, they remembered Jesus had said something about rising on the third day; but after those agonizing hours, His presence seemed a lifetime ago. His words, His promises felt so distant. In their hearts, the story was over.

But still they waited. And as they waited, Jesus’ body rested on a cold, stone ledge in the dark.

His followers waited. And they worried. And they wondered.

We know what it is like to be tested. We work. We study. We pray. We serve. We try our best to follow our Savior. And yet, our circumstances don’t change. The attacks still come. The grief holds on. The answers to our prayers are still out in the future.

They call it the lull between the storms. It is literally a quiet period just before a time of great activity or excitement. That is Holy Saturday. Between the great dramas of life, there is almost always a time of empty waiting. A time of silence with nothing to do. A time where we are left with our thoughts … and silence. With no other sounds to cover up our fear, our worry, our dread. And in the silence, the question still rings in our heart:

“Who do we say that He is?”