Listening to the Palms
Read: Zechariah 9:9-10
One of my favorite winter vacations as a child was to Florida. The
26-hour drive was a key to the adventure, the long hours adding to our
anticipation, along with my parent's promise: "We're almost
there." As soon as we crossed the Florida state line, we could
immediately smell it. The humid salt air was unlike anything we knew in
Indiana. We couldn't see anything, but we could hear the exotic palm
trees, so unlike any tree up north, swishing in the ocean air. We had
arrived!
The swaying palm branches and shouts of "Hosanna" this holy
Palm Sunday tell us we too have arrived. We have arrived at the holiest
week of the year: Our Lord's Passion. Although you can't see it, you can
sense the salty tension in the air as the plot to get rid of our Savior
grows (see Matthew 21:15). How quickly the "Lord Save Us"
salutations turn to cries of "Crucify Him!" Today we wave our
own palm branches, ancient symbols of victory and triumph, knowing that
Jesus is King, who reigns forever, from sea to sea. First though, we
will pass through the long night of His suffering.
The first morning in Florida, my brothers and I would race to the
beach to see the wide blue ocean, so powerful and vast. So too on Easter
morn our Beautiful Savior, powerful and limitless, stands to greet us.
First, we must pass through days of darkness ahead. But hold onto the
promise: We're almost there!
Prayer: All glory, praise and honor to You Redeemer King!
Hosanna! Amen.
Response: Save your palm branches to burn for Ash Wednesday
next year.
Passion for the Lord
Read: Isaiah 53:5
Our next door neighbors lived in a house full of rough-and-tumble
little boys who often played in the rocky dirt outside our back door.
During one Bible Club, I taught them about Jesus dying on the cross for
our sins. Six-year-old Donovan responded, "That's sad what they did
to Jesus. It makes me want to cry."
I stopped short. How many times had I told this story without
thinking (much less feeling) about our Savior's suffering for us? Yet
this child, no stranger to tough times, felt pain for our Lord on his
first hearing. The power of the Gospel surpassed my feeble telling.
Last year the movie "The Passion of the Christ" was
released. The film, which opened on Ash Wednesday 2004, brought to the
attention of the nation—even the world—the last week of Jesus' life.
While many debated showing the gruesome details of Christ's suffering, I
thought about Donovan and his tearful reaction to my flannelgraph
presentation. He needed to know a Suffering Savior, who had stretched
out His arms in love and died for us.
As adults we too need to know the cost of Christ's obedience. The
movie was a constant Lenten reminder of the darkness that fell on earth
when God's only Son suffered and died. This Holy Week we too can think
on what we did to Jesus, and hope and pray that it makes us want to cry—with
pain for His suffering for our sin and with joy for the redemption He
won for us.
Prayer: Glory be to Jesus, who in bitter pains, poured for me
the lifeblood from His sacred veins. Amen.
Response: Meditate on Jesus' suffering, His love.
Dogwood Blossoms
Read: 1 Peter 1:3-4
One of our Bible Clubs was held on the front steps of a family's trailer
deep in the piney woods. Five children and their four cousins lived up a
red-dirt hill. One mild March day, dogwood trees danced in full lacey bloom,
covering the ground with snowy white petals.
I put my lesson aside and picked up a twig of dogwood blossoms. Using the
flowering tree's beautiful blooms, I shared the Good News of Christ from the
"legend of the dogwood." The flower of the dogwood is white,
reminding us of Christ's purity and perfection. Each flower has four petals,
forming the shape of a cross. On the outer edge of each petal there are
"nail prints," spots of brown rusty stains. The center of the
flower is a crown of thorns with bright red clustered fruit in the center
representing the blood of Christ.
Right outside their door, the beauty of God's creation shone with
spring's promise of new life, just as His Word offers new life in Christ. In
His Creation and in His Word, He shows His love in Christ, blooming all
around. As soon as we finished the lesson, the children gathered their own
dogwood blossoms and ran to tell their mother the story of the dogwood. Then
they took off down the hill to share dogwood evangelism with their
neighbors.
Prayer: Beautiful Savior, You are truly the King of creation.
Truly I love You, truly I serve You, light of my soul, my joy, my crown.
Amen.
Response: Tell someone the Good News today.
Scar Stories
Read: John 20:19-20
While playing a game as a child, I locked my brother out of the house.
Trying to shove his way in, his arm went through the window. Shards of glass
sliced deep into his arm. The doctor said if it gone a hair deeper, he would
have lost the use of his fingers. It required 28 stitches and it left a scar
in the shape of a "U," nearly one inch all around. Every time I
looked at his stitches I got sick, thinking of how I had hurt him. After the
cut healed, the scar reminded me—and still does—of the terrible day.
Most of us have scars to show and stories to tell. Scars tell of hard
times and bad choices, of how life changes in a split second. And scars tell
stories of victory and miraculous healing, how glass cuts through the skin
but just misses tendons. Scars—visible physical marks—tell the stories
of God's healing power.
The scars of Jesus show the greatest healing power of all. Jesus wears
His love for us in the nail prints. His scars show our sin, His suffering
and death for that sin, and His victorious resurrection.
Scars tell us that from adversity comes strength; from injury comes
healing. Jesus' scars tell us that we are forgiven and given life eternal.
His scars tell the greatest story in the world.
Prayer: Grant Lord Jesus that my healing in Your holy wounds I
find. Cleanse my spirit, will, and feeling, heal my body, soul, and mind.
Amen.
Response: Share your scar stories.
Christ's Command
Read: John 13:34-35
I was not happy. I had been assigned to drive to our rural mission one
hour away and was worried I wouldn't make it back for the Maundy Thursday
service. Our outreach worker took me to visit a family living in a trailer
off a dirt road in one of the poorest counties in the nation. On the way she
told me about the family. The boys' father worked 12-hour shifts for minimum
wage and could barely make ends meet. The family was grieving over the
recent death of the boy's mother: she was 35. Earlier in the week the boys—ages
10 and 6—had walked a mile to their neighbor's house to beg for food. The
neighbor fed them, but had little to spare, so she called our mission.
We spent time with the family, gave them food, and helped pay some bills.
I got to church on time and as the pastor read the Gospel, I realized that
in my rush, I had almost neglected the Lord's work. Maundy means
"command" and is based on Jesus' words to His disciples:
"Love one another." He gives the power to love through His body
and blood, the Holy Supper He instituted this night.
God had given me an opportunity to love—feeding hungry, motherless
children—and my response had been resentment. Knocked to my knees by my
sins of selfishness, confession filled my heart. Cleansed by Jesus, I go
forward to serve.
Prayer: Come Lord Jesus, be our Guest and let Thy gifts to us be
blessed. And let there be an ample share, on every table, everywhere. Amen.
Response: Give a gift or donation to your local food bank.
Easter Is Coming!
Read: John 11:25-26
The pastor in the next town had been feeling tired. Repeated trips to the
doctor for over a year showed nothing. Then came the dreaded call: "You
have cancer." Chemotherapy and radiation attacked the cancer, but the
disease, so long undetected, spread despite medicine. He didn't have long to
live. Despite pain, exhaustion, and illness, he kept regular office hours
and led worship, donning red suspenders when he lost weight. As the disease
progressed relentlessly, his ministry took on new urgency: "I'm finding
my faith is real; God is present and I know I am not alone," he told
his congregation.
The pastor's last months were a dramatic picture of faith in word and
deed. He counseled, cared for, and communed his congregation while showing
compassion for the poor. His abiding faith shone brightly through his ill
health and impending death. In one of his last sermons, preached during
Lent, he said, "I know I am facing my own Good Friday any day now, but
I thank God that through Jesus Christ, my Easter is coming!"
The pastor died before seeing the calendar's Easter Day, though he surely
greeted his Easter Lord. His funeral, in a packed church, was a celebration
of life that ended with a jazz band playing his request: "When the
Saints Go Marching In." As tears streamed down our faces, we all joined
in, proud—through God's grace in Christ—to be in that number of sinners
turned saints who will go marching in.
Prayer: Heaven's morning breaks and earth's vain shadows flee; in
life, in death O Lord, abide with me. Amen.
Response: Find your favorite Easter hymn and read it today.
Faithful Followers
Read: Mark 15:40-41
When I took my dyed eggs to the church on Saturday morning for the
Easter egg hunt, several women were in the kitchen preparing a meal.
Other women were in the sanctuary, working with the children for the
Easter play; others were practicing with the choir. Women are active
members of my church––of every church I've belonged to––teaching
Sunday school, taking food to the sick, greeting visitors, raising
mission funds, directing choirs, and more. Our churches depend on the
service and Christ-like love of its women.
In the Passion, we see women who were faithful followers of Jesus,
walking from Galilee to Calvary, caring for His needs and listening to
His Gospel message. On Good Friday, women witnessed their beaten and
bloody Lord, dying on the cross. Women watched while the stone crashed
against the tomb, sealing the grave.
Surely grief overwhelmed their hearts as they returned home,
remembering the last hours of their Lord's bitter suffering and death.
Like us, overwhelmed by the grief of our own nature, they wait for
Easter dawn.
In the morning, the women will walk to the tomb, burdened with
sorrow. In the morning, they will hear the joyous news of salvation. In
the morning, their sorrow will turn to joy! Together we sing, "Our
Redeemer lives!"
Prayer: He lives all glory to His name. He lives, my Jesus
still the same. O the sweet joy this sentence gives. I know that my
Redeemer lives! Amen and Hallelujah!
Response: With repentant hearts prepare to greet the Easter
dawn!
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