It seems like vacations always come right when you need them. After an emotionally and mentally draining week, we are heading to (hopefully) sunny California for 8 days. The agenda is as follows:

• Visit San Francisco
• Bike across the Golden Gate
• Find the park from the opening of Full House
• See the Boberg’s
• Visit Bridges Church in Freemont
• See the Eagles’
• Take the ferry to Alcatraz
• Drive the PCH to Los Angeles
• Eat lots of In ‘N Out. And I mean lots
• Hang out with my dad
• See the Beck’s
• See celebrities?
• Disneyland!!!

It will be a much needed week of fun and recharging. That is, if I can make it through this week. Work is incredibly demanding and I don’t think I’ve worked hours like this since college. Well, at least since interning at Salt Company.

So this Saturday we’ll be looking for number 1. California here we come.

So this is it, the day Jesus hung on a cross and proclaimed the completion of His work. It is both “good” and sobering.

I have the privilege of having the day off (thanks to the Catholics that started the business where I work!), and have been trying to pray and focus on what this day means. James Denney (courtesy of J.I. Packer) has helped lay the groundwork:

“Not Bethlehem, but Calvary, is the focus of revelation, and any construction of Christianity which ignores or denies this distorts Christianity by putting it out of focus.”

If we have the wrong view of this day, we have the wrong view of everything. It is a warning well heeded.

One thing I have been meditating on is the fact that Jesus would not tell the disciples when He would once again return to Earth. They are already wrestling with the fact that Jesus is going to die on a cross, and then He won’t even tell them when He’s coming back.

The common view is that since Jesus was fully man, God the Father was only giving Him partial knowledge and revelation while here on Earth. In the end, it doesn’t really matter why He wouldn’t tell the disciples, all that matters is that He didn’t.

Maybe Jesus didn’t want to lower the bar for the disciples. If they knew Jesus was coming back at a certain time, they would only have to position their hearts and wills to living a specific way for a specific amount of time. But the unknown is scary and hard. Jesus could come back tomorrow, but He might not come back for 30 years, so we better live in a way that is purposeful for 30 years. Or it might be 300 years. Or 3000.

I think Jesus wants our hearts to be transformed for a eternity, not just for a short time. It’s the least we could do, after all, He did take the weight of all humanity upon Himself today. He deserves our hearts.

If I knew I had a day to live, I wonder what I would do. I think we’ve all played that game. Maybe travel somewhere you have always wanted to go, or spend time with family. Accomplish something you have always wanted to do, or experience something familiar one last time.

Jesus knew tonight would be His last meal with His disciples. In fact, it would be His last night on Earth. So what does He do? He washes the disciples’ feet. Even in His last moments, Jesus is showing us the example of humility, grace, respect, and authority.

I pray that I could embody that same love and devotion. Where are my priorities in my last moments?

As I was reading the gospel accounts of the days leading up to the crucifixion, something caught my eye. On the night of the Last Supper, after Jesus broke the bread and shared the wine, they did one more thing before heading out to their prayer retreat. They sang.

I can’t imagine that moment. Jesus just told the disciples He was going to suffer and die, Judas got called out as the betrayer, and they just finished their last meal together. What song could possibly do that moment justice?

As I write this I’m listening to the singers practice the closing song of the Easter production. I think the song of the disciples would have sounded something like this.

This weekend will be an amazing celebration.

Traditionally, the Eastern church commemorates the parable of the ten virgins on this day. I wish we had better insight into what Jesus’ week was like between entering into Jerusalem on Sunday and having dinner with the disciples on Thursday. What we do know is that Jesus dropped a whole lot of parables this week.

It’s almost like Jesus was in a race against time to get people to understand who He was and what that means. Faith that moves mountains, obedience to righteousness, the reality of rejecting Jesus, answering His call, the resurrection and life, the marriage relationship between us and Jesus, and on, and on, and on . . .

When it comes down to it, the message seems simple. Jesus is leaving this earth, and that will have significant consequences for the those who believe and those who don’t. Even today, it’s the same call: faith in, and obedience to Jesus is what gives us the keys to life. We have only a handful of days before we have to reconcile the consequences of our faith, or lack of it, for eternity.

Holy Week is upon us. Although I would say that I failed my experiment of daily writings, observing the daily office, and psalter-like orchestration, I do feel like I get it a little bit more. In fact, I think for the first time in my life I made a conscious effort to focus on the season of the death and resurrection of Jesus. I hope my heart has turned even the smallest bit more toward my Lord and Savior.

The interesting thing is that this (attempted) discipline has become really helpful in preparing for the Easter service at Cornerstone. I have been blessed to be included in the program this year, and it’s much more challenging than last year. Last year, we were a bunch of P.O.W. prisoners, and the story paralleled the story of Peter. But this year, it’s all about Jesus.

I have been praying that God would allow me to feel the weight that Jesus felt during his last days of ministry here on earth. It’s such a delicate balance, because I don’t want to cheapen the reality or emotion of His resurrection for the sake of a performance. How do you sustain a genuine brokenness, heaviness, and even what I think is a proper sorrow about the events that took place? Carefully, I suppose.

The cool thing is that I feel like I am a little bit closer to understanding why life isn’t perfect. A strange thing happens when we cry out to God in desperation and helplessness, He actually listens and draws us closer to him. Maybe not right away, maybe it has to stay foggy and hazy for a while, but at some point I think He allows us to see how that pain, that sorrow would draw our relationship even closer.

I believe the ever-wise and noble Stefan Knudsen shared this Søren Kierkegaard quote at the Eagles wedding this weekend, and it so struck me as I was reflecting on some recent events.

“Life can only be understood looking backward. It must be lived forward.”

I try to understand the confusion the disciples felt when Jesus was led out of the garden. I try to imagine the wonder a blind man felt when he was healed. I try to feel the weight and burden of carrying the world on your shoulders. None of it made sense at the time, but we look back and we can better understand what happened and why it had to happen.

There was One who was pierced through for our transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. God, may I begin to feel even a fraction of what You experienced on that day.

I think Moses said it best:

Before the mountains were born
Or You gave birth to the earth and the world,
Even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God.

God is God, and I am not, sometimes I forget that. I wonder what it would be like if I really acted like God is as holy as He says? What if I actually took off my shoes because I knew I was on sacred ground? Maybe I would be motivated to not only care more, but act more.

I pray that I would realize that God is God, and that means I need to do something about it.