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.

This weekend was a harsh reminder that this world is not our home. It is so easy to get comfortable here – I have a job, I have a house, I have a family, I have great friends – but this place is not our home. Sickness, injustice, downturns, it’s all rampant in this life. When we face those moments, we have two choices:

1. Get mad at God, abandon all hope and live in the moment.
2. Cling to God and the hope of all that Heaven brings.

To be honest, I find it hard to be satisfied with the idea of Heaven. It sounds great, but it’s so far away. Then the psalmist reminds me that better is one day in the House of the Lord than one thousand days anywhere else. Even standing in the doorway of Heaven is better than the best day here on Earth.

Can you imagine that?!? I have had many great days. Maybe I’m an optimist, but it seems like the really bad days are few and far between – I can probably count them on my hand. But even the greatest day we could experience, be it full of happiness and satisfaction, pales in comparison to waiting in the doorway of God’s place.

When it comes down to it, you either believe it or you don’t. If you don’t, there’s only so much you can do to make the most of this life. The reality is that from day one, our bodies are decaying. We have no way of affecting the decisions that other people make that could impact us. Tragedy strikes without warning.

But God, He is so good. He gives us grace and glory. He is our shield and our strength. I have to believe in the loveliness of His dwelling place, and I do believe that through that I will see His blessing. After all, we were created with that yearning in our souls. We can embrace it, or try and silence it with the material, withering world. Oh, what a tragedy that would be.

Editor’s note: As a self-proclaimed scholar, I realize that the “dwelling place” of God can have two meanings. One might be Heaven, but the most likely interpretation of dwelling place in this context is being in the presence of God when following His ways. For today, I like thinking about Heaven. I’ll try not to be a heretic tomorrow.

For one reason or another, I have been hearing/reading/thinking a lot about leadership lately. We put a lot of trust in politicians, church leaders, family, friends. I don’t often think of the ramifications of leadership, or the fallout of bad leadership. It’s hard enough being a husband and connection group leader, I can’t imagine being a king.

Give the king Your judgments, O God,
And Your righteousness to the king’s son.
May he judge Your people with righteousness
And Your afflicted with justice.

I love this prayer. God was willing to give Solomon anything he wanted, and all he asked for was wisdom. And for the first half of his life, he was a pretty awesome leader. He knew what it meant to be a man of God.

I’m not a big Mark Driscoll fan (I find him brash, and somewhat lacking in humility – you can be brutally honest and humble at the same time), but he’s in the middle of a series through the letters from Peter. Last week Driscoll talked about what it means to be a man. He made some good points about our responsibilities, but what struck me the most was his point that Jesus was the perfect man. I mean, yeah, I know He was perfect, but I never thought of Him as the perfect example of what a man should be.

Jesus embodied wisdom, righteousness, and justice, the very thing Solomon prayed for in Psalm 72. But Jesus didn’t show up and demand the spotlight, assume the leadership of Rome, and try and transform the world with ordinances. The leadership of Jesus was subversive to the extent that He transformed people, and the transformation of those people was going to change the face of a people, a region, and eventually the world.

Without going down a political road of how we advocate change, I just wonder if I am seeking to be the kind of leader that comes alongside the power of the Holy Spirit to help change people. I pray that wisdom, righteousness, and justice would be the mark of my leadership.

Editor’s note: I know what you’re thinking, so you don’t have to say it. Let’s just say I’m trying to work on sticking to my commitments.

Often, I forget this simple truth: God blesses us so that all the ends of the earth may fear Him. It really isn’t about us, it’s about the next person. If we really understood and believed that, maybe we wouldn’t get so bent out of shape when things don’t go our way. I’m talking to you, Chris Saldanha.

I am not sure when it happened, but at some point humanity thought that the blessings of God should come to and stop at us. But if you dust off that book called Genesis, God makes it clear from the start that what He’s doing, and how He blesses us, is all with the next person in mind. He tells Abraham that He will bless him, and though him all nations will be blessed. God didn’t tell Abraham to take his goodie basket and run into the closet and eat all of his candy before all the other kids get to it. For years I thought that was what Easter was about.

The writer of Psalm 67 is talking about very earthly blessings – produce, to be specific – and how we should be using them for God’s purposes. If our produce is supposed to be a means through which the ends of the earth would know and fear the Lord, how much more is the burden now that we have and understanding of the spiritual “produce.”

I am tired of running off with my basket of spiritual goodies and hoarding them all for myself. This year, I will use my chocolate bunnies of faith to help the next person know the person of Jesus.

My ability to blog every day has been, in the words of Charles Barkley, trrrible. There are a few things I have discovered while meditating over the Psalms these last three weeks:

• It is hard work to seek deeper truths on a daily basis.
• The psalmists don’t cover a lot of material, but the depth is unreal.
• It is so easy to push God to the bottom of your agenda, even why trying to focus on keeping Him at the top.

Thank you, Lord, for showing me my humanity.

You + Me =
Last night at bible study we were discussing the message of Haggai. Something amazing happens in those two short chapters – the people of Israel actually respond to the Lord and repent. Usually it’s a lot of back and forth, and God has to bring on some more punishment, and a few chapters later they get it. And it’s always so brutal. “Why don’t they get it?!? It’s so simple,” I say to myself.

Well, this time – they get it.

Naturally the conversation turned to discover what was different. It seems two fold:

1. The people of Israel recognized that crops, food, drink, clothing and money were not satisfying them.
2. The Lord stirred their hearts.

And that’s the formula: us + God = conviction and repentance. When conviction and repentance don’t happen it’s because our heart isn’t there yet. That can lead us down a dangerous path. We give a little here, give a little there, and soon we’re ensnared in something much bigger than we imagined. In Psalm 55, David is pained by a brother with who he once shared sweet fellowship, and now he is destructive. It seems to be a slippery slope.

So how do we stay there? That seems to be the million dollar question. The illustration that was used last night was comparing our responses to money and to God. No one has to convince us of the perceived “good” that can come of someone giving us $2000. Instantly we know where to spend it and what to spend it on. In fact, the possibilities are almost endless. We are easily convinced of the benefit.

When it comes to the value of following God, it gets tricky. Not only do we have to convince ourselves of the benefits, but the world around us is trying to prove us wrong. The world is trying to convince us that our security is in money, food, and shelter. We say, “Following Christ gives way to joy in suffering,” while the world shouts back, “Where is your God now?” For every perceived benefit, the world has a refuting response.

I think the truths that we have to hold on to are different for every person. We must seek out those truths and set our hearts on them. Through Haggai, the Lord begs us to consider our ways, because those ways are what will lead us to a greater relationship or to a shallow belief.