Pilate

"Because of his sovereign love, the worst of days is now called good."  Louie Giglio

Today is Good Friday.  My prayer is that you will not rush too quickly past it. 

 

I love being a finisher and I love a good ending.  I like the last brush strokes of a painting job the best.  I like savoring the last few pages of great book, enjoying the final moments of a play when all the threads of a story weave together in a beautiful ending.  For the faith-filled believer, Easter morning is the ultimate good of all the good endings.  The risen Christ provides life for us, brings meaning to our living and is our only hope of salvation. 

 

But this is the Friday before.  To call it “good” seems to be at the same time, both terribly wrong, and also the truest, most spectacular understatement.  There is a need for all of us to rest here awhile.  To feel the weight of the death so we might better appreciate the glory of the resurrection.

I have been reading the story of the cross as if it is the first time, digging into the gospel accounts, imagining myself there.  I see Jesus at the last supper, knowing the appointed time is near (Matt. 26:18).  He is here, investing in the disciples, still answering questions, encouraging them with his words and actions.  I can’t move past this picture of Jesus, Lamb of God, seated so casually at the dinner table.  I know what’s coming.  Judas betrays him next, and my heart breaks at this and it begs the question:  How can you have looked in the eyes of Christ, felt his love, witnessed the miracles, heard the words of life and truth first-hand, and trade it for thirty pieces of silver?

And I wonder, am I Judas?  I profess my love for Jesus and follow closely, but with His call heavy and hard on my heart how often do I choose the easy road, choose comfort, and choose silver?

Next I see Jesus in the garden, anguished, and yet fully surrendered to the purpose and plan of the Father.  He pleads with the disciples, his closest of friends, to stay awake, to pray.  The Messiah knows these men need God’s help.  They mean well, these faithful followers of his, but oh, how the flesh is weak (Matt. 26:41).  They believe. They feel ready to follow Jesus anywhere he leads.  But when faced with his attackers, they desert Jesus and run away.

I want to believe I would stand firm.  But I have to ask it:  How well do I prepare in the garden?  Do I fall asleep too, forgetting that there is an enemy who has his sights set on my life, my marriage, my children and my ministry?

The journey to the cross now brings me to Pilate.  Tragically, he desires to please the people more than he is committed to doing the right thing.  He tries so hard to avoid dealing with Jesus, sending him to Herod, offering the crowd Barabbas instead, challenging the people with the innocence of Christ, and then finally washing his hands of him altogether. But avoid Jesus?  He cannot.

Neither can we.

Here I find my place in the story, and I find yours too.  Here, we all must pause this Good Friday to consider the question of Pilate:

“What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called Christ?” Matt 27:22

This is the question we all must ask, and the one we all must answer.

 

Nothing is more significant.  I believe Jesus is exactly who scripture says he is.  Our great God and Saviour (Titus 2:13), Immanuel, God with us (Matt. 1:23), the Messiah, the Son of the living God (Matt. 16:16), Saviour (Luke 19:10), the Resurrection and the Life (John 11:25).  Jesus died under the weight of our sin, in our place, so that we can live forever with him.  It is the most precious of gifts and it requires a response.  A life surrendered, a longing to grow and to impact the world around us.

Today, because of Jesus, I am forgiven, free, hopeful, grateful, alive.

time

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  Psalm 90:12

I have four children.  To be honest, they range between teens and early twenties, so not really children anymore at all.  Forgive my bias, but they are exceptional humans and if I weren’t their mother I would certainly want them for friends.  As it turns out, I have the blessing of both. 

Thinking back on the early years, there is one piece of advice I heard more than any other.  If you are a parent, you already know the one I mean:

“Enjoy every moment, because the time goes so fast!” 

I didn’t believe then what I know now to be true. The days may be long but the years are short.  Valuing the time, seizing the day, makes all the difference in a life well lived.

Andy Stanley, in his book Ask It, brings clarity to the way we steward our time.   He describes the cumulative value of investing in things over a long period of time.  The principle proves true in saving money, exercising regularly, mastering a musical instrument, strengthening a marriage, and investing in the lives of our children.  Many of the decisions that we make daily, shape and strengthen our future with a huge cumulative value over the long haul.  The same, however, is true for the things we neglect.  Ignore good nutrition for one meal and you will be fine, ten years and the effects can be irreversible.  We are inclined to live in the moment rather than invest in the future. 

The temptation to just kill time and to put off what is truly important may be the boldest of thieves.  The prayer of the psalmist is a prayer for all of us.  We need to number our days.  We need hearts of wisdom.  We need the reminder to not waste our time and instead live with intention and purpose.

I want to grow in Christlikeness, but like anything, simply wishing for it won’t make it happen.  It takes both surrender and the discipline of time well spent.

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:13

A couple of years ago I became impacted about the how the concept of tithing could include my time.  It was interesting to me how clear in Scripture the instruction is to give joyfully, and how important the ‘why’.  I left that period of searching with absolute clarity about this:  Our loving Father knows that on our own we will hold our things far too tightly.  By default, our relationship with Him and our relationships with others are held too loosely, too casually, too carelessly.  We need constant reminding that every good gift is from God, He has given to us with abundance and it is all His anyway. This is a matter of the heart. Yet, if we are honest, in a country with our needs easily met and our debts paid by automatic withdrawal, tithing our money can be a small sacrifice, hardly felt. And our time?  Well there never seems like quite enough of that either.

Our days, crammed with interruptions and the demands of all our responsibilities, can leave little room for seeking the Lord.  I believe that all of our days are in God's hands and our time belongs to Him. The way we spend it is a gift of our gratitude.  Here is the sacrifice that costs us something.  

My early mornings are spent in the Word and with strong coffee.  They are the sweetest moments of my day.  What began as an act of simple discipline, is now the place of my strengthening. 

Now, believe me, it is still hard to get up some days (okay lots of days), to trade a warm, cozy bed for a cool, dark house.  But here I have experienced the richness of God’s presence, just as He promised.  He surely has opened the windows of heaven and poured out His blessing (Malachi 3:10). Even on the hardest and most demanding of days, words of truth remind me that he is working all things out for good (Rom 8:28).

This I know to be true: 
Time is our most precious commodity.  

There are endless possibilities for good, and opportunities for change in each new day.  It is not too late to put down the phone, to reorder our days so that we may invest in the people and things that matter most. 

All the church ladies were right, you know.  The time does go fast.

a child

I have followed Jesus since I was a little girl.  I responded to His call on my heart with all the genuineness of a child looking up into the loving eyes and outstretched arms of a Father, the same way we all do.  The outline of my heart was forever marked by the truth that I was loved right to the cross.  That decision, by miles the most significant one of my life, was sweet and pure and thoughtful, fierce in that childlike way, and perfectly sincere. 

Matthew 19:14 is not a stretch to understand. 

‘Jesus said, "Let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."’  Of course the Kingdom of heaven belongs to the children.  They wholeheartedly believe.  They own the purest of smiles, boundless joy, a complete lack of artifice, and the limitless capacity to love. 

It needs to be said here that if you are involved in ministry to children or youth, yours is the holiest of callings.  Whether you are a sweet faith-filled mother who has forgotten what it is like to sleep through the night, or a committed saint that has given your Sunday mornings or weekday evenings to generations of kids, be encouraged.  Yours is not a lesser-than position, or behind-the-scenes work.  You are on the front lines, and what you do couldn’t be more valuable or more significant. 

This week I visited a church I have never been to before.  The sermon was thought provoking and the speaker quite attractive (okay, it was my husband). The worship leader was gracious and gifted; the people warm and welcoming.  We were blessed by our time with them.  My favorite part of the church service, however, came from a handful of a little boy who was completely unrestrained in his worship.  He danced, and twirled and rolled on the floor.  Had he been given a chance, you just know he would have tried his hand at the drums!  I loved it.  His mother was no doubt tired and desperate for the moment they would leave for children’s church (I remember that well).  Yet, I couldn’t help but think I had just glimpsed what our worship might be like in heaven.

Now, I do imagine there will be a profound reverence, awe and sacredness to our worship.  But I believe there will also be unrestrained joy as we abandon ourselves to the glory of the Lamb seated on the throne, the only one who is “worthy to receive glory and honor and power.” (Rev 4:11)

The worship we are part of on Sundays is simply and fully for an audience of One.  What we do in these moments trains our hearts for an eternity with Him.

  

‘Then he said to them, "I can guarantee this truth: Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”’ Matthew 18:3

This is a harder verse for many of us. Having a childlike faith is not an immature faith.  Instead it is a beautiful picture of how to live out what we believe in full surrender to the one who made us and knows us and loves us best.  This ‘becoming like little children’, calls us to a humble, honest and authentic belief that transforms our living.  It calls us to embrace each day with joyful anticipation, barrelling into it 'all in', loving hard, forgiving easy. It is a faith fully sincere and dependent on Jesus.  

Let's go ahead and admit it: What comes so naturally to a child has been squeezed out of many of us by the rawness of life until we are stiff and sore from our laziness, far too hesitant in our acceptance of others, too careful with our hearts, and too stingy with our praise. 

The years have coloured my faith. The childlike trust from my youth has been tried and tested.  Walking with Jesus has filled in the outline with rich hues born of God’s faithfulness, answered prayer and His constant presence.  I know that my redeemer lives.  I know that one day I will follow him straight into heaven and will see him face to face. (Job 19:25)  And I know that until then that I will never be outside of his grasp. I am training my heart for eternity.  I need the reminder to live in unbroken praise and in unrestrained worship.  I need the lessons of a child.

just being boys in Salquil, Guatemala

sweet girls in Ecuador

joyful 'just because' in Rwanda