Into Your Hands

 ...darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last. (Luke 23:46)

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion for each of the 40 days of Lent. My last seven entries are prayers inspired by the seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the final words he spoke.

"Father, Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit"

From the foot of the cross I can see you, my Lord. You are high and lifted up. And I can hear what you say. Every word.

Darkness has covered us.
Not because it is night, for it is only 3 o'clock.
Darkness has covered us,
  because the sins of the world have covered you.

You cry out,
  "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

In your voice, I don't hear defeat.
I don't hear disappointment.
I don't hear sadness.

In your voice I hear the sweet surrender of trust.
And the tenderness of love.

Your work is done. It is finished.
You came to do your Father's will.
And you have done it.
And now you surrender yourself, body and soul,
  into the hands of the One you trust and love.

"Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

+ + + + + + +

Lord Jesus, into your hands I commit my spirit.

I have watched you on the cross.
I have seen your determination to forgive me,
  even me.
I have heard your promise of heaven,
  given without conditions.
I have received your gift of a new earthly family,
  the Church.
I have witnessed your experience of abandonment,
  which you went through because of me,
    but also for me.
I have felt the deep thirst of your soul,
  for it is my thirst as well.
I have heard you declare that it has been done,
  that you have done the will of your Father,
  and there is nothing left for you to do.
And I have watched as you entrust yourself
  into the hands of the One you love.

Lord Jesus, into your hands I commit my spirit.
How can I do otherwise?
Your love has captured me.
I give myself to you.

Into your hands I commit my spirit.

It Is Finished

 Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:30)

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion for each of the 40 days of Lent. My last seven entries are prayers inspired by the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. This prayer is based on the sixth saying.

"It Is Finished"

Here I stand at the foot of the cross, my Lord.
I see you high and lifted up,
  as "sorrow and love flow mingled down"
and I hear what you say.
  Every word.

In words barely audible you speak:
  "It is finished."

I think to myself,
  "Yes, it is finished. Mercifully so, your suffering
          is at its end.
  Raise the white flag.
  Let death end it for you."

But that's not what you mean, is it?
  You're not surrendering in defeat;
    You're not capitulating to the darkness;
      You're not giving up.
That's not what "It is finished" means.
Not by a long shot.

No, "It is finished" are words of accomplishment,
  fulfillment,
    victory.
For when you breathe your last,
  you have completed what you have set out to do:

"For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him."

That's why you came, my Lord: to save the world.
That's why you hang in agony on the cross: to save the world.
That's why you suffer abandonment by God:
     to save the world.

When you breathe your last,
  you have done what you set out to do.
Only then can you say, "It is finished."

Say it, my Lord.
Say it for me.
Say it for the world.

"It is finished."

I Thirst

 

Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, "I am thirsty."- John 19:28

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion for each of the 40 days of Lent. For my last seven entries I am submitting prayers inspired by the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. This prayer is based on his fifth saying from the cross.

"I Thirst"

From the foot of the cross, I behold you, Lord:
  high and lifted up.
And I hear what you say from the cross.
  Every word.

Almost inaudibly, the words flow 
  from your cracked, bloodied lips: "I thirst."

Thirst. 
It is the most primal longing a human experiences.
You have joined our struggle, Lord.
You have experienced the most basic need
  any of us will ever experience: thirst.
As you hang on the cross,
  there is no human agony foreign to you.

Thirst.
It speaks to more than our physical longing.
It speaks, even more vividly, perhaps,
  to the longing of our soul:

O God, you are my God, I seek you;  my soul thirsts for you,my flesh faints for you,  as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Forsaken by God,
  you thirst.
You are experiencing the condition that I deserve,
  in order to redeem me. From my own thirst.

But may I be so bold as to consider another thirst, Lord?
Can it be that on the cross 
  you not only experience human thirst for God,
but also, maybe, are you expressing a thirst
  that God has for us?
For you have told us of the father who scans the horizon
  as if thirsting after reconciliation with his lost son;
and you have told us of the shepherd who searches
     high and low
  in deep longing to find the one lost sheep.

Could it be, dear Lord, that your thirst
  is for us to turn to you?

Either way, your thirst draws me to you.
Your thirst arises from your love.
And it makes me thirst for you,
  and for the life only you can give.

And so I thirst, too. Because you thirst.

Why Have You Forsaken Me?

 At the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ..."My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:33-34)

Scenes from the total solar eclipse, August, 2017

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion for each of the 40 days of Lent. For my final seven entries, I am sharing prayers inspired by the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the fourth saying of Jesus from the cross.

"My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?"

From the foot of the cross I behold you, O Lord,
  high and lifted up.
And I can hear you. Every word you say.

There is a moment -- a long, three-hour moment --
  when the sun is hidden.
Darkness is the prevailing reality.

You cry out: 
"Eloi, eloi, lema sabachthani?"
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

When I hear those words,
  darkness fills my heart,
  just as the darkness has covered the sun.

Since the day of your birth,
  you have walked with God.
     Completely.
     Perfectly.
     Unceasingly.

But now, God's back has been turned on you,
  God's face turned away from you,
    God's ears closed to your cries.

Why? Why has God forsaken you?

And then it strikes me. It pierces my heart:
On the cross, you are the Lamb of God,
  who takes away the sins of the world.
The only way you can take our sins away
  is to take them upon yourself.

God has forsaken you, because of me.
Because of my sins.
Because of the sins of the world.
Upon you, the sinless One, 
  the sins of the world have been placed.

You are God-forsaken, and it's our fault.

The truth of the realization breaks my heart.
Forgive me, Lord.

But, lo, another realization:
You are God-forsaken, so we don't have to be.
The penalty of our sin -- 
  separation from the Living God --
you are paying it at this very moment.
For us. For me.

Dear Lord, you suffered the ultimate agony
  so that I wouldn't have to suffer it myself.
I am the one who deserves to drink
  from the cup of abandonment;
I am the one who deserves
  to descend into hell.

But you have taken my place, out of love.
  Now I know what you meant when you said,

Greater love has no one than this,

to lay down one's life for one's friends.

Your cry of ultimate agony from the cross --
  it was because of me. And my heart aches.
Lord, have mercy. Forgive me.

Your cry of ultimate agony from the cross --
  it was for me. And I am full of gratitude. And love.
Lord, I thank you.

Dear Woman, here is your son...

 When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." (John 19:26-27)

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion for each of the 40 days of Lent. For my last seven entries I am sharing prayers inspired by the seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the third saying.

"Dear Woman, Here Is Your Son"

From the foot of the cross I behold you, Lord.
And I hear you. I hear every word you say.

As you speak words of tenderness to your mother,
  and to the disciple you love,
I am amazed.
I am amazed that in the midst of unthinkable agony,
  you are more concerned for others than yourself.
It is not your pain that you seek to relieve,
  but the pain of your mother and your friend.
Even in your own suffering,
  you are mindful of the suffering of the world.
I am deeply humbled by the knowledge of your compassion.

"Dear woman, here is your son."

"Here is your mother."

In these words, you have given us something special;
  you have given us each other.
All who gather at the cross -- 
  we are not orphaned by your death;
  we become family. 

And now I realize that forgiveness of sin
  isn't the only gift of the cross,
  for at your death you also created the church.

"Dear woman, here is your son."

"Here is your mother."

In the sanctuary, when I gaze upon the cross,
  and then when I look at all who gather with me,
I realize what you have done for us:
  these are my brothers and sisters;
  these are my mothers and fathers;
  these are my sons and daughters;
  these are my family.

We are not orphaned by your death.
We are not left alone.

Thank you, Lord, for your amazing love.

Today, You Will Be with Me in Paradise

 

Jesus answered [the second criminal crucified alongside him], "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." (Luke 23:43)

My Lenten discipline has been to write a devotion/reflection for each of the 40 days of Lent. For my last seven entries I will share prayers inspired by the seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the second saying.

"Today You Will Be with Me in Paradise"

From the foot of the cross I can see you, Lord.
And I can hear you. I can hear every word you say.

I heard what you said to the criminal crucified at your side:
"Today you will be with me in paradise."

Are you kidding, Lord?
Don't you know what he did?
Don't you know the evil he did?
There's a reason he's hanging on the cross, you know.
He's bad. Real bad.

Are you really going to forgive him, just because he asked:
"Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."?
Is that all it takes?

Then I remember that you once said, 

"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you."

And you also said, 

"...I have come not to call the righteous, but sinners."

And your most famous words of all:

"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."

So maybe you meant it, after all.
Maybe the criminal's faith was enough for your forgiveness.
Maybe all he needed to do, is ask in faith. 
Maybe your forgiveness even extends
  to the really bad people, too.

Maybe your work on the cross
  covers all sins. 
Every. one. of. them.
Including my sins.

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.

Father, Forgive Them

 

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."- Luke 23:34

From the Cathedral of St. Francis of Assisi, Santa Fe, NM

My Lenten discipline has been to write a reflection for each of the 40 days of Lent. For the last seven reflections I will share prayers based on the seven last sayings Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the first saying of Jesus from the cross.

"Father, Forgive Them..."

From the foot of the cross I can see you, Lord.
You're high and lifted up,
  but not like anybody ever imagined.
Your physical pain is unimaginable;
  your spiritual agony is beyond comprehension.
The crowd that has gathered is worked into a frenzy;
  your execution has become a sold-out, standing-room only 
    entertainment event.
You have been beaten, scourged, mocked, spat upon;
  you have been stripped of your clothing
  and your dignity.
There you hang, nailed to the cross,
  every fiber of your being screaming in agony.

Then you speak: 
  "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

I can't believe my ears, Lord.
 "Father, forgive them"? Is that really what you said?
  How can you say such a thing? 
  Why would you say such a thing?

Then I remember what you said last week,
  after you entered Jerusalem:

"Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it was for this very reason that I came to this hour."

And I remember that it was said of you
  hundreds of years prior:

"He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed... The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all."

"Father, forgive them."

Now I realize, my Lord, that it's not just "them"
    to whom you're referring.
"Them" includes me.

Now I realize, my Lord, that it's not just a few cruel people
  who nailed you to the cross,
  for I am one of "them".

My heart bows down within me
  to know that my sins have taken you to the cross.

Father, forgive them.

Father, forgive me.

Standing on the Promises

 “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” (Isaiah 40:8)

I think the Bible gets a bad rap sometimes. I would say it’s probably because over the centuries people have distilled its purpose down to being a big thick rule book that can be used to beat us over the head and into submission. To be sure, the Bible contains commandments – at least ten of them – and what is a commandment, but a rule that is supposed to be obeyed. And throughout history the Bible has been used to justify things like slavery, abuse of women, antisemitism, global imperialism and colonialism. So I can see why some people cast a suspicious glance at me when I say something like, “The Bible says…”

It’s a shame that the Bible has fallen out of favor for so many people. It’s a shame that people see the Bible as an instrument of oppression, or that the Bible simply describes a God who is out to get us – you know, zap us with a lightning bolt. It’s a shame that the Bible has been condensed to a series of “thou shalts” and “thou shall nots”.

It’s a shame, because there is no greater source of hope, wisdom, and truth than the word of God. When I need to know that there is more to this life than division and strife and warfare, I turn to Scripture, where I find a word of peace and reconciliation. When I wonder how I must navigate my way through life, I turn to God’s word, where I learn that I should strive to love the Lord with my whole being, and love my neighbor as myself. When I feel like the world around me presents a different truth every day, I turn to Scripture, where I am reminded that though people are like grass that withers and flowers that fade, the word of our God will stand forever.

I think it’s time to recapture the beautiful purpose of the Bible as the word of God that offers hope, guidance, wisdom, and truth in a world where none of those things can be found.

The verse I quoted at the top of this devotion is one that my beloved childhood pastor quoted before every sermon. Following his example, I also recite that verse before every sermon. Not in a way that demands unflinching obedience, but in a way that points to our source of hope. When I say that the grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will last forever, I am saying that the words of truth and command and hope and promise spoken long ago still stand today. 

I can open the Bible and hear God say, “Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint,” and I know that the promise of renewal still applies to you and me today.

I can hear Jesus’ gracious invitation, “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” and I know that he didn’t just say it to the 12 disciples, but to us also.

I can listen in on Jesus’ telling the scribes and Pharisees, “Whatever you did (or did not do) for the least of these, you did (or did not do) for me,” and I realize that Jesus tells me the same thing today.

I can read the words of Paul who says, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith..." and "Whoever is in Christ is a new creation..." and "nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord," and I know that every one of those words rings true today.

I can turn to any page of Scripture with the confidence that the principles, truths, and promises spoken to ancient peoples long ago still hold for you and me.

Because the word of God will stand forever.

I think it’s time we recapture the beautiful and life-giving purpose of the Bible.

Love So Amazing

“May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Galatians 6:14)

I love to take pictures of crosses. It’s probably because the cross is the central symbol of the Christian faith. I take that back – it’s definitely because the cross is the central symbol of the Christian faith. Crosses are ubiquitous these days – you can see them just about anywhere, and all types. They adorn steeples and sanctuaries. They hang on walls in houses. They arise from the ground in cemeteries. They dangle from ears as earrings. 

I also find crosses in nature. In the spring, when pine branches have new growth, it often looks like a cross. 

One day I was taking a hike in a local park (the same one with the copperhead – see my devotion from April 2), I saw this sapling, and I noticed that the top of it looked just like a cross. 

Last night as I was lying in bed, I looked at the door to the bedroom, and I noticed that the panels of the door form a cross. A beautiful, symmetrical cross.

Like I said, crosses are ubiquitous – they are everywhere. 

I think that the reason I notice crosses so much is because the cross is the expression of God’s love for you and me – for the whole world. It is an enigma, really, because the cross was a gruesome instrument of torture and execution. How can it be a symbol of love? 

Because of the One who died on the cross between two criminals nearly 2000 years ago.

Again, the concept of someone dying a cruel death as an expression of love is an enigma. I get it – it is gross and repulsive to think about what happened on the cross. And yet, that is exactly what we remember and celebrate every time we gather to worship in the church. In the unfathomable mystery of God’s eternal wisdom, an instrument of death was transformed into God’s ultimate expression of love.

"For God so loved the world..."

- John 3:16 

I’m not going to get into all the hows and whys that shed light on the meaning of the cross. Millions pages have been written about the cross over the millennia, I suspect. But no explanation is as clear and concise as the explanation that Jesus gave a couple of years before his death: For God so loved the world that He gave his only-begotten Son…*

We’ve all seen the scenes in the movies or TV shows where a person says to their significant other, “I love you,” for the first time. Then there is that awkward moment in which the other looks bewildered, as if he or she doesn’t know what to say in return. Meanwhile, the one who said “I love you,” is agonizing over whether or not their declaration will be reciprocated by the other. 

The cross isn’t just God’s declaration of love for us. It is also meant to elicit a response from us. God says, “I love you. I always have, and I always will.” What God really wants from us, I believe, is for us to say, “I love you, too. I really do.”

“Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small. Love so amazing, so divine, demands my life, my soul, my all.”  (Isaac Watts, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross)

Love so amazing, so divine, indeed.

*Nerd alert: Scholars are divided over whether Jesus said those words to Nicodemus, or if John wrote them as an aside to explain what Jesus said to Nicodemus (John, chapter 3). But my red-letter Bible has that verse in red, so I’m taking John 3:16 as Jesus’ words.

The Last Word

 “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with God’s people. Amen.” 

(Revelation 22:21, the last words of the Bible)

When we were in North Carolina, the city cemetery was about four blocks away from our house. It was more than the city cemetery – it was also the place where dozens of people took their daily walks every morning. For four years, I walked or jogged all the paved pathways winding through the cemetery. As a small-town cemetery, it had some beautiful natural features, sitting on a hill, a couple of scenic ponds, bordered by towering pine trees. I loved watching the hawk families hunt and nest in the trees, as well as the pileated woodpeckers (think Woody Woodpecker), kingbirds, bluebirds, cardinals, and a host of other birds flitting about. It was a very pleasant place to walk.

It’s an old cemetery, with many graves dating back to the early 19^th century. As time went on, I began to pay attention to the headstones and their designs. Some had inscriptions, some indicated military service, some had religious designs etched into the granite, and – thanks to modern computer-driven imaging – some had modern pictures carved into them. 

Some people will put a lot of thought into the headstone. Maybe a person told their loved ones their wishes regarding what to put on their headstone. Or maybe the headstone was designed by the survivors, as a way of honoring the deceased. Either way, headstones often convey some sort of message.

"Blessed Are the Pure in Heart"

I look at the headstone as an opportunity to speak a last word to any who pass by. Last words tend to be important. When someone knows that they are speaking their last words, they tend to focus on what is important to them. No small talk – just the stuff that really matters. 

I’m reminded that when Jesus was in the upper room with his disciples he knew that he wasn’t going to see them the next day. So he focused on what was really important – sharing the bread and the cup, and saying to them, “Do this in remembrance of me;” washing their feet, and saying, “Love one another as I have loved you;” praying aloud for them, “Father, may they be one, as you and I are one.”

When Jesus knew he only had a few hours left, he made every word matter.

If I have a headstone with my name on it, I want to make sure it conveys something that is important to me. I want my last words to speak of things that have stirred my heart with the goodness and mercy and grace of God. So – and this certainly will be no surprise for any of you who have known me for any period of time or who have been part of the churches I have served – I want my headstone to say something about love. And it has to come from the Bible, not something you found on the internet. 

I will leave the final details to my family, but here are a few suggestions:

Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you.” – John 15:12 (I figure if it is good enough to be among Jesus’ last words, it’s good enough for me. Besides, it’s also the verse reference that Carol and I have inscribed on our wedding rings).

“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” – Ephesians 3:17-19

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” – 1 John 4:7-8

And recognizing that whoever arranges for the headstone may have to pay by the letter, here’s one that is a bit more succinct and to the point: “And now these three remain: Faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

Any of these scriptures will faithfully capture the last word I wish to speak.

When all is said and done, what will be the last word you speak?

Choose wisely, because it will be carved in stone.

Rejoice in the Lord. Always.

 “He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.” (Psalm 40:3)

In the spring and summer months, in the early morning hours and while all else is still quiet in the house, I can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside. They, too, are waking up and preparing for the new day. I think birds must be “morning people.” It warms the heart to hear the birds greet the day with cheerful songs. 

I am not an avid bird watcher, and so I can’t really tell most birds by their sounds. Though I can tell you when a hawk is in the area, and I recognize the cawing of the blue jay, and the frenetic cheeping of the wren, and the chirping of the cardinal, and the rotation of songs sung by the mockingbird, …and the cooing of the dove as it prepares to poop on the cars below. I can usually tell the difference between a bird’s song of joy and the noises it makes when it is being aggressive or when it is under stress.

The morning sounds from the birds are happy sounds. Joyful sounds. I enjoy listening to the birds in the morning. The birds just sing – that’s what they do. They can’t help but sing, because it’s their nature. I’m glad they don’t hold their songs in, but sing them with all the gusto they can muster. The birds help me start the day in a good mood. There’s something contagious about their joy. I suspect there’s a reason why we have the term, “the bluebird of happiness.”

I want to be like the birds. Don’t worry, I’m not going to burst into song – you don’t want to hear that! But I do want to be someone who exudes joy and gladness throughout the day. I want to be someone who doesn’t hold the joy of the Lord inside me, but who lets it flow steadily from my heart.

Joy is not meant to stay in our heart. Its nature is to find expression in our voice, in our demeanor, in the sparkle in our eyes. I love the word, “exude.” The dictionary defines “exude” in this way: “to project or display conspicuously or abundantly; radiate.”

Joy is meant to be exuded.

"Rejoice in the Lord always; I will say it again -- Rejoice!"

Philippians  4:4 

God has put a song in our heart. We’re supposed to sing it.

Something wonderful happens when we let joy find expression in our lives: Joy has a way of becoming contagious. As it flows out of our hearts, it spills into the lives of everyone we encounter. Our joy makes the lives of others better, happier, blessed. 

In the cacophony of noises that we hear in our world – accusatory, bitter, angry voices that stir up fear and division – what would it be like of we focused more on making a joyful noise?

Wouldn’t it be nice if we were all a little bit more like the morning birds?

Rejoice in the Lord. Always. Rejoice.

Great Is Their Faithfulness

 “I thank my God every time I remember you…” (Philippians 1:3)

In January I began serving in my new calling as a chaplain in a retirement community founded by the Presbyterian churches of South Carolina. It is a large community, with nearly 300 residents ranging from independent living, to assisted living, to skilled nursing and memory care. When I talk to friends about my new call, one of the things that often comes up in the conversation is, “Oh, you have to deal with a lot of death. That must wear you down.”

It’s true, people pass away in my current setting at a higher rate than they have at any church I have served. But that’s because we have no residents who are under 65 years old. Old people tend to die more often than young people. That’s a basic fact of life. 

And to be sure, there are some moments that the emotional toll of frequent encounters with death weighs heavily on me. But as a person whose hope is grounded in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the heaviness of death is short-lived. And it’s okay to experience some measure of sadness, because sadness is often an indication of the love that we have had for the one who has passed away. Ultimately, I consider it a sacred privilege to be able to accompany a person and their loved ones on their journey into the valley of the shadow of death.

At a memorial service, one of the things that I always point out is that the one whose life we are celebrating and remembering wasn’t just a friend or family member. That person was also someone whom God used to bear witness to God’s love, grace, compassion, care, and countless other traits of God that we hold dear. You see, the person whom we are remembering was a child of God who bore the image of God in their being. And as such, many aspects of the person’s life bore witness to God’s goodness and mercy.

A mother who never stopped thinking about the needs of her children bore witness to the never-ending, never-sleeping nature of God’s love for you and me.

A man who never met a stranger bore witness to the gracious hospitality of our Lord.

A person who was a gifted artist bore witness to the creative beauty of God.

The woman who tended the nursery at the church for 50 years showed us what it looks like to obey Jesus’ command to “let the little children come unto me.”

The doctor who spent his or her vacations on medical mission trips gave us glimpses into the mercy and compassion of God for those whom the world considers “the least of these.”

You get the picture, don’t you? The truth is, none of the saints whose lives we celebrate ever said, “Hey, look at me – I’m bearing witness to God’s love.” But they lived their lives in such a way that there can be no denying that God used them to give us glimpses into God’s grace, love, righteousness, justice, and glory.

"Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses..."

- Hebrews 12:1 

The writer of the New Testament letter to the Hebrews speaks at length of the faith of those who have gone before us, and the witness that they have provided to us. And then he told us to let their example embolden and encourage us in our own lives of faith: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (Hebrews 12:1) 

I truly believe that one of the gifts that we receive when loved ones die is the gift of a faithful witness to life in Christ. It is a gift that inspires me to live in such a way that one day when people look back on my life, they will not only talk about me, but they will also talk about the God they saw in me.

Don't Be a Snake

 “You snakes! You brood of vipers!” (Matthew 23:33)

I’m not a fan of snakes. Especially snakes that are within 10 feet of me. I really don’t like those snakes.

“But that’s a good snake,” some will say.

No. It’s not. It’s a snake. It can’t be good.

I do have to admit, though, if I am far enough away and I have the zoom lens on my camera, I like to take pictures of snakes. To be clear, I like the pictures, not the snakes.

About 10 days ago Carol and I decided to take a hike in a local county park. We had hiked in the park before. It has nice trails, and it’s perfect for when we don’t have time to drive a long distance to get to a place to hike. Except on this particular day. Because there was a snake. Not just any snake, but a copperhead. The poisonous kind. 

We were walking along, and I was looking for birds and flowers to photograph, and suddenly Carol stopped me in my tracks. Literally three feet away was this copperhead on the trail. I jumped back – probably about 25 feet – and I said a bad word. Or two. Snakes make me do that.

We let the copperhead finish crossing the trail, and just to be safe we walked about 100 feet around it to pass it. My Fitbit registered a heart rate of about 200 beats per minute that day.

Did I mention that I am not a fan of snakes?

I’m not alone in this. Jesus evidently did not have a high opinion of snakes. Why else would he call the hypocritical scribes and Pharisees “snakes” and “brood of vipers”?

"You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?"

Jesus, Matthew 23:33 

Just a few days before he was to be crucified, Jesus sealed his fate by leveling curse after curse at the “teachers of the law and Pharisees.” Jesus called them out for their hypocrisy. They make entry into the kingdom of heaven impossible by imposing all sorts of rules and regulations. They split hairs with the Old Testament law in order to manipulate it to their advantage while oppressing others. They put on good appearances to hide the greed and self-indulgence in their hearts. They pretend to be righteous in order to cover up their own wickedness. 

It’s in the twenty-third chapter of Matthew. You should read that chapter every once in a while. It’s not pretty.

For years, I would read the words of Jesus directed at the Pharisees, and in my heart I would say, “You tell them, Jesus! Preach it! I sure hope so-and-so can hear what you’re saying.” I would puff up in my own self-righteousness and say to myself, “I’m sure glad I’m not like those hypocrites.”

But at some point I began to read those passages differently. As I heard Jesus crying out against the ones who claimed to have it all together, every once in a while I could have sworn that I heard him call my name. Because if I’m honest with myself, I have a bit of Pharisee in me. I suspect we all do.

Yeah, you too.

And so instead of smiling smugly as Jesus lets the hypocrites have it, I now approach these particular verses with a more prayerful attitude. I use these verses to examine the hypocrisy in my own heart, and the ways that I try to hide my own shortcomings while focusing on the shortcomings of others. These verses remind me that I, too, build up walls and barriers that make it impossible for some to enter the kingdom. These verses show me how I manipulate the rules to ensure that I am among the “in” group.

These verses remind me that I don’t want to be this way, and that Jesus doesn’t want me to be this way.

You see, I don’t like snakes, and I don’t want someone to call me a snake. Especially, I don’t want Jesus to call me a snake.

Part of the purpose of the season of Lent is for us to examine our hearts and remember why it is that we need a Savior. That means engaging in a good bit of humility and honesty about our own unrighteousness. It’s hard work, but worth it.

So next time you read about Jesus saying some harsh words to religious people, listen closely, because you might just hear him mention your name.