The Personal Nature of Holy Week

 HOLY WEEK IS PERSONAL.

This is Holy Week. Depending on your background and upbringing, this may mean different things to you. Perhaps you think of this week as a time of reflection, to remember the self-sacrifice of Jesus and to act accordingly. Perhaps you think of it in relationship to community – a shared celebration honoring new life, the return of flowers and plants and wildlife. Perhaps you only think of this as a time of year – when seeds are sown and tended in hope that there will one day be a harvest of reward.

No matter what you may believe about Holy Week, there is one thing that all the forces of darkness and evil that undeniably exist in this present world do not want you to realize. Evil doesn’t care if you celebrate the seasons. Evil doesn’t even care if you celebrate community. Evil will even let it go if you celebrate a good man with good ideas that changed the world.

What evil doesn’t want you to know is that Holy Week is PERSONAL.

Evil doesn’t want you to understand the fact that if you were the only person in existence, Holy Week still would have happened. Even if you were the one who took a “good man” and put him on a cross. Even if you were the one that pounded nails into his hands and feet and then stood back to watch as his life slowly and excruciatingly faded from his body.

In reality, you did.

Whether you want to acknowledge you are that bad or not, you did. I did. I stepped back in time and took a hammer and drove spikes into the kindest, most powerful, most humble man who ever walked the face of the earth. I screamed for his death. I spat in his face and pulled out his beard. I ripped open his back with an ugly tool of torture.

I drove the nails into his flesh. I watched him struggle for breath until he breathed no more.

So did you.

This seems a savage idea to share during a time of celebration. And if you’ve never considered it before, you probably won’t believe it at first. You had nothing to do with his death. You would never treat someone the way Jesus of Nazareth was treated by his own people and by the oppressing Roman Empire.

It doesn’t change the fact you did it.

That’s why I say that this week is personal. Go back to that alternate reality again, the one where you are the only human being ever created. The one Jesus came to and gave you your sight, your health. He provided the food you needed. He sheltered you and protected you and taught you how to live in such a way that would bring you blessing and peace.

And then you killed him in the cruelest way imaginable.

You think that’s not possible? Think again. You absolutely would have done it, just as they did. Nothing in you is different than what was in them.

But this personal story doesn’t stop there. You see, there was another side to the proverbial coin. Jesus came to you knowing you would kill him. Knowing you would take everything from him. He knew you would despise him and hate him for loving you. He knew EVERYTHING.

And he still came. Because he knew there was a greater plan at work. A plan for him to secure the power not only to heal you and provide for you and teach you and love you, but a plan for him to make you like him. To take your stony, dead, cruel heart and make it soft, and warm, and alive. To give you a heart like his.

He looked at your face, so dear to him despite the contempt written all over it. He saw what you could be if he took the blame for all your evil on himself. If he made himself the sacrifice, the payment for a debt you had incurred that you could never repay. And he loved you… YOU… so much that he was willing to take your scorn in order to save your eternity.

Holy Week is personal. It’s personal because he made it personal. He made a move you can’t deny or ignore, not if you want to settle the matter of your emptiness and futility. Not to mention your eternal existence. He wants you safe with him. He wants to give you ultimate peace that passes your understanding of the word “peace.” He wants to show you himself, reveal to you his wonder-working power to do what you cannot even fathom in your present state.

Have faith that he can change your heart. Have faith that his power – a power not only willing to go to the grave, but to come out of it again – that he can do THAT with your heart. He’s done it before. I’m here to testify! If you do not know what it means to have your heart come alive, you are missing the best thing that has ever been offered to you. It’s worth more than all the money you can earn, all the status and pleasure and comfort and safety you can scrape up for yourself. Infinitely more.

Come to Jesus. Let this Holy Week be your time to look at Jesus in a personal way. Not just to see the depth of your trespass against him, but to see what he did for you in return. He waits, for now. Come before your life or this age passes away and the invitation has expired.

“I tell you, now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.” – 2 Corinthians 6:2

What does God Say about the Health Vs. Freedoms Dilemma?

God’s been working on my heart the past few days. I’ve been pretty busy around the property, working on the garden and taking care of my seedlings and helping my daughter get her chickens set up in their new home. I’ve been doing a little spring cleaning and the usual baking and cooking. And all the while telling myself that this work excuses me from other work. Other consideration and study and… what I most want to avoid – saying something. Speaking the truth, even if my motivation is love.

It’s the work of dealing with the conflict and the unrest that simmers around me. My least favorite thing in all of life is conflict. I’m not talking about conflict in my home, but in our relationships that have been reduced to a less-than-ideal sharing of opinions and convictions via various social media platforms.

But what’s the answer? What do we say in the middle of all the arguments about protecting health versus preserving freedoms? What do we say to the economic uncertainty and the possible breakdown of even our food systems? What are the answers to these extremely difficult questions? Shouldn’t we argue and strive over them? Aren’t they important enough? Won't presenting our valid opinions change other people's minds and be the answer to everything going wrong?

This week our pastor had us consider the life and teaching of John Bunyan, who had a sad life, to say the least. Nothing ever went Bunyan’s way, yet he made the most of his days anyway, writing when he can do nothing else. Some of that writing went down in church history, helping thousands upon thousands be strengthened in their faith through the story of Pilgrim’s Progress, even retold again and again to this day. 

So what? Why does it matter what Bunyan went through? Why should that apply to us? We are FREE. We have the right to speak up and protect our freedoms. No one can take that away from us because we are Americans. Right? Either that, or we are secure. Our health and safety is of supreme, even divine importance. Nothing is more important than protecting the safety net of medical science we’ve established in our modern world. What does that have to do with Bunyan’s world of death and disease? It was different. The two worlds can't be compared.

I’d like you to consider for a moment that maybe we don’t live in such a different world than Bunyan did. And I’d like you to consider whether our being happy, being free, having everything we could want or need available in any store or delivered the next day to our doorstep, having medical services ready any time and place to solve any health problem we could have, and plenty of tests to have even if we're feeling fine, having seventeen different activities each week to engage in and distract us from anything we don't want to think about, if all of that is really what’s best for the people who make up the body of Christ here on earth? When did we start believing that this world is heaven? That we deserve what is being held for us in the perfection of eternity – now?

Friends, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, this is not our home. And what won’t be an issue in eternity is not our right to claim here. It’s not time yet. Here, Jesus promised us we would face hardship and persecution. He PROMISED it. In this world, we are in a spiritual battle against evil, and sometimes it's going to seem like evil is winning. But Jesus also said why it was okay, over and over again in the gospels. It's okay to suffer because in the end, JESUS WILL WIN. It’s okay to suffer because we’re closer to him when we face these things, things like viruses that don't follow any rules or things like governments that use hardship to strip away freedoms. Standing with Christ and obeying his instructions are how we fight and win spiritual battles. And when we stand with Christ, we change. We move into the head-space of Christ as we become hardier, as we don’t get everything the way we want it to be, as we learn to appreciate the way it is now versus the way it will be in eternity. And God wants us to complete this hardening process, to mature to look just like Jesus. TOGETHER. We can only really accomplish his purpose together. 

Dear fellow believers, it is a blessing to suffer! It is a privilege! It is good for us to face opposition to our faith. To trust him for our daily needs. To give the number of our days and the quality of them to his wise plan. God has a purpose in the joy and in the pain, and he won’t let either

go to waste. Don’t be afraid of this world disappointing you. It’s going to. Be more afraid of not fulfilling the purpose God’s given you to do while you’re here.

More on that! Our pastor also gave us specific verses to study to find our path through this trial. He started in 2 Corinthians 10:3-6. Look it up. Read it in a couple versions. Ask yourself what “arguments” and “lofty opinions” are coming up against the knowledge of God in our society this very day? (Don’t stick to one side, either.) What have you already heard people saying that you know doesn’t stand up to the truth of Scripture? What have you said or believed that might need amending? Which of your “captive thoughts” do you know Christ is going to reject as not of God?

As I consider these verses, I think of a few ways we can fight spiritual battles, right from our homes:

1.       Prayer, Fasting, and other spiritual disciplines

2.       Meeting needs

3.       Teaching truth

4.       Loving God and others

5.       Being willing to suffer for Christ’s sake

If we are busy with these objectives, we won’t have time to be afraid, be incensed, or judge everyone else. We won’t be obsessed with our own interests. We’ll have replaced our natural inclinations for God’s exciting purposes for our days.

Some more verses from my pastor on the subject of how to spend our time amid the crisis:

·        Hebrews 10:24-25: Consider these things. Stir each other up to love and good works. Meet together even if no one else does. Encourage each other. Do these things MORE AND MORE as the times start to look like the “Day” Jesus warned us about.

·        1 Peter 4:10-11: Use your gift. Serve. Speak God’s words. Serve in God’s strength. Give God glory.

·        Ephesians 4:15-16: Speak the truth with love as your motivation. Remember we are all one body, responsible to each other for our growth. We each must DO OUR WORK.

·        Matthew 28:18-20: Go, make disciples, baptize them, teach them to obey Christ. Keep in mind that Jesus will be here with us to the very end of this age. (This should keep us in check from our natural tendencies toward fear or pride.)

So let’s get to work! Let the world argue and worry about where everything is headed. We already know the end of the story! Let’s take this day by day and do the next right thing, letting Christ capture every thought in us before it grows into destructive weeds of fear or pride. Let’s be about his business.

A Christmas Pause

If you hadn't noticed, it's Christmas. There isn't snow on the ground, but the wrapping of too many gifts and the baking of too many goodies and the hustle of shopping for last minute forgotten items tells me the season is really here. Busyness is trying to war with my worship today. I need to remember what this is all about. I need to focus on the entire reason this season is so special. The BEST gift. 

Without this gift, I'd be nothing, have nothing, possess no hope for the future. I'd be swallowed up and eaten alive by anxiety. I'd be no good at all to my family and friends. I'd have nothing to write about.

In Jesus, I have everything. I have peace, anticipation of future promises, strength for today, joy in the simplicity of everything this life can be. 

I'm sharing a scene from my latest biblical fiction novel. I hope it gives you a moment to pause and consider in a new way the age-old message of Christmas. 

EXCERPT FROM MY BROTHER THE KING...

***

“Daughters, come near,” Yosef said weakly from his pallet on the floor. He had been thrashing back and forth all evening. The girls had been huddled in the corner together, watching his face grow white and his desperate breathing become a tell-tale rattle in his chest. They knew death, and they knew their father was close to it.

They came to him and kneeled beside him. Talia buried her head in Yosef’s tunic, crying.

“Save your tears for mourning, little Talia. I want to go to Sheol with the memories of your beautiful smiles.”

“Please don’t go, Abba,” Talia begged as she tried to stop her tears. Her sobs only grew deeper.

“Be silent so I can speak,” Abba said tenderly, lifting a trembling hand to Talia’s cheek. When she quieted, he spoke again. “When I am gone, little lambs, you must do something for me.”

“Anything, Abba,” Hannah leaned over him and squeezed his arm. “Just say the words.”

Yosef smiled at her and reached a hand to smooth back the hair from her face. “Little Hannah. Only eight years on this earth and you wish to be a grown woman. Don’t be in such a hurry. Womanhood will come all too soon.”

“Amen,” Hannah said without thinking. She took his other hand. “May you be there to see me as a woman.”

“I will not be there,” Yosef said decidedly. “I want my daughters to be strong. Help your Ama in her grief.”

They hesitated, exchanging glances, then nodded.

“Whatever happens, you must both follow Yeshue. Not only in matters relating to the family, for he will be the head of this house, but in all things. He is the M’sheekha, and you must follow him.”

Yosef’s voice became urgent, almost as a plea, as the spirit ebbed away behind his warm brown eyes. “I have told your brothers the same.”

“Yes, Abba,” they both said in unison.

“If only I had the time to tell you…” Yosef’s voice faded and Hannah thought he had died. A cold chill spread over her.

“I must speak to Yeshue,” he said suddenly, squeezing their hands with his little remaining strength. “Send in the one they call my son.”

They sprang up from his pallet, crying as they descended the ladder and ran to find Yeshue. Hannah found him in the courtyard, sitting against the wall, his head in his hands. She was not sure if he was praying, or crying, or both.

“Abba asks for you,” she said. He jumped at the sound of her voice, as if he’d been surprised by her voice. Very rarely did anyone surprise Yeshue. He must have been deep in thought.

He stood and motioned for her to come to him. He kissed her head. “Go to your sister, Hannah. She will need you to hold her while she grieves.”

Hannah nodded, a lump in her throat.

“You are a strong one. A brave girl.” He squeezed her shoulders before he went to Yosef.

Instead of going to Talia, Hannah followed Yeshue back into the house. She sat in the doorway and listened to their words. She had to strain her ears to hear Abba’s words over Ama’s sniffling.

“Son, my time has come,” Yosef said. 

Yeshue said nothing. After a moment, he nodded.

“I know we haven’t spoken of it in a long time, but I want to remind you of your birth. Make sure you understand.”

Hannah would have laughed if it had been any other circumstance. Yosef and Maryam had talked often of Yeshue’s birth. Sometimes Hannah wondered if they could speak of anything else.

“I understand, Abba.” Hannah heard Yeshue’s soft answer.

“Ah, let an old man speak his memories,” Yosef chuckled, which made him cough.

“If he must,” Yeshue sat down on the stool made by Yosef’s own hands. “I will be glad to listen.”

“You indulge me,” Yosef said, and Yeshue chuckled in response.

“Your mother was the most beautiful girl in town. Have I told you that? Long dark hair, shiny brown eyes full of innocence…”

“You describe every young woman I can think of, Abba,” Yeshue teased him mildly.

 Yosef reached a hand to lightly slap Yeshue’s arm. “You are employed here only as a listener.”

Yeshue nodded and bowed his head in deference.

“I was taken with her from the moment I arrived in town. You know I came from Bethlehem, but our family had come to Nazareth for the wedding of my cousin. We ended up staying for several weeks, and I wanted her for my wife, if her father could be convinced to let her marry an old bachelor.”

“An old bachelor at twenty-four. You wound me. I hadn’t realized at twenty-five I was useless and elderly.”

Yosef wheezed a short laugh. “Well, I seemed an old bachelor to Maryam. She was barely thirteen. But there was something about her. Wisdom beyond her years. She wasn’t flighty or silly as the other young women. She had a peace about her I found very attractive.”

“As you should have.” Yeshue looked at his mother across Yosef’s pallet and nodded.

“I decided not to ask for her, though. Surely she deserved better than a poor carpenter.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“In the end I didn’t need to. Her father’s olive crop was destroyed by flies and they had no money to pay the tax. He would have had to sell her to save the little ones, so I paid the bride price. He asked me to wait a year before I took her to my home because she was so young, and I agreed.

“Not two months after this, Maryam was visited by the angel.”

“Gabriel,” Yeshue said with a nod. Almost like he spoke of an old friend.

“Imagine my shock when she came to me with wild stories of angels and heavenly messages. I pulled her aside to hear what nonsense she had dreamed up. When she told me she was going to have a baby, my blood ran cold.”

Hannah sneaked into the animal shelter underneath the floor. She watched them through a small hole in the floor of the upper story. She knew her parents would make her leave if they knew she was listening to such a conversation. But she was intensely curious about the part of the story no one would speak about when she was around. Her brother Y’hud played nearby, banging on a pot with all his strength. She glared at him, and he gave her a toothy smile.

“You did well to hear her out,” Yeshue said.

“I was like one possessed,” Yosef continued, his voice softer and weaker. “I wanted to rage and find the man who had defiled her. I would give him justice. But she went on about how the baby would be born of the Spirit of Alaha. He would be the M’sheekha.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Yeshue, surely you know every woman who has come to be with child in the last four hundred years has claimed to be carrying the M’sheekha.”

Yeshue smiled. “Ah, but it is true.”

“Well, I marched her right back to her father’s home and left her there, too angry to say a word. Then I paced the rest of the day, trying to decide what to do.”

“You did well not to have her publicly shamed.”

“I did not want to run ahead of Adonai.” Yosef closed his eyes, his words slurring as he tried to gather strength to finish the tale. Yeshue put his hand on the older man’s arm, and the gesture gave Yosef strength to continue.

“I was going to put her away from me without anyone knowing. I wanted her life to be spared, at least. I thought maybe the father was a Roman soldier that had cornered her and taken advantage of her innocence. Maybe she’d come up with the angel story to cover the horror of what had happened.”

“You were a man of integrity, thinking the best of her.”

Yosef shook his head. “A good man would have stood by her and believed her story. Alaha had to send an angel to me before I would accept it.”

“You did, though. You didn’t question after that.”

“No, I didn’t. How could I question the word of Adonai?”

Yosef was quiet for a long time. When Hannah thought maybe he had died, he suddenly spoke again. “I am going to die.”

Hannah expected Yeshue to disagree—to urge Yosef to fight the illness and stay with them. After all, he had eight children and other relatives to care for. What would their family be without him?

“I know.” Hannah heard the catch in Yeshue’s voice and imagined the tears swimming in his eyes.

“You will be head of this house.”

“I understand.”

“Do you have any questions? Do you know what to do for the girls when they come of age? Do you understand how to balance family and the business, and still have time for your studies?”

“I think so,” Yeshue said simply. 

Yosef nodded, visibly relaxing in the quiet confidence of his eldest son. “Don’t misunderstand me. I know you are here for a higher purpose than looking after the poor family of a tekton. You must be about your Father’s business, as you have reminded me.”

The words didn’t make sense to Hannah.

“I will do what I have come to do,” Yeshue promised.

“No man has ever left his family in better care. That I should be so blessed…”

Her father’s voice trailed off, and moments later, she heard the wails of her mother begin. Yeshue gathered his mother in his arms and wept with her.

***

This has been an excerpt from my novel "My Brother the King." I pray it allows your heart space to think and worship this Christmas on the wonder of everything our Savior was - even a simple son and a brother.

MY BROTHER THE KING

MY BROTHER THE KING

Their time is marked by oppression, their home by conflict. Within a humble Nazareth dwelling, four siblings share a secret. Their people pray for a freedom fighter who will shake off their bondage - the great M'sheekha. But he's already here, and he's not who anyone expected. 

Take a journey into the stories of the brothers and sisters of Jesus. Ponder the experience of growing up in the same house as God. Follow him on the road of ministry. Stand back and see him give his life - a ransom for many. 

Even the ones who didn't believe.


Nearly fifteen years ago, I knew I wanted to tell the story of Jesus through a fresh perspective. I didn't realize the long road ahead, and the many tries and failures over the years to get it right.

What my vague original idea became was the story of four Jewish siblings, Ya'achov, Y'hud, Talia and Hannah, sons and daughters of Joseph and Mary of Nazareth. They are as common and poor as the lowest of their time and place, with one exception. Their brother is the promised king.

What would have Jesus's childhood home looked like? Would it be peaceful because Jesus lived there? Perfect? Idyllic?

The more I thought about it, the more research I did into that society, the more certain I was that it couldn't have been that way. Jesus wasn't there to do what his people expected. Jesus wasn't about following the rules. Jesus was radical. And to a lowly Jewish household and community, he stood out too much. The Bible clearly explains that he had enemies ... even in his own family.

So these many years later, I am ready to share their story. I hope it will inspire you to go back to Scripture with your heart engaged, ready to see Jesus for who he was and is. Not so much the wise, compassionate teacher sitting out on the hill, but the revolutionary, bleeding divine blood up the hill of Calvary to buy the freedom of an entire universe.

Let's not think of him as any less than what he really is, even if it scares us, even if it isn't comfortable. Let's meet him at that hill and see what he is able to do in us as a result.

Let us not live in unbelief any longer.

MY BROTHER THE KING is available in print or electronically for your phone, kindle or computer. Please don't forget to leave your review on Amazon. It doesn't have to be long, but the more reviews there are, the easier it will be for potential readers to find it. Find it HERE.

Good Friday?

On this morning, only a couple thousand of years ago, a man waited below the house of the high priest in Jerusalem.

A prisoner. Surely many prisoners had been housed in that dungeon, dreading the moment they were handed over to Rome for execution. Some may have deserved their fate, some may have been victims of a corrupt system governed more by rule-following and prestige than by their law they claimed to love so dearly.

But this prisoner was different. He was truly innocent, not only in matters of the law, but in all matters. He was the perfect Creator of the universe, captive only to his love for his people and to his promises made from the beginning of time.

But why do we call this day Good Friday? The day our Lord was betrayed by friendship’s kiss cannot be good. The morning after a night of slandering, the morning dawn brought cruelty in the form of beatings, mocking, and a sentence of death can't be good. Those who had followed him and praised his teaching and even watched him raise the dead to life … now scorned him. Disowned him. Left him alone without a single soul willing to stand up for him and risk the same fate. How can it be good that he suffered, and that he suffered alone?

His disciples couldn’t even stay awake to pray with him the night before such an evil, terrible day. 

So why in the world would we call this day “good”? What could be good in such tragedy and betrayal? How could we celebrate a day that found humanity at its worst, violently attacking and killing the very being that gave them the breath of life and formed their bodies within their mothers’ wombs?

We call it good because it is our only hope. We call it good because there is no other way, not by sacrifice or self-discipline or scientific exploration or by the pursuit of world peace … THERE IS NO OTHER WAY we could be saved from our sinful souls.

It is a good Friday when I know that cross, meant for shame and torture and death, is a glorious trophy to exchange one day for a crown I don’t deserve. I can call his suffering and death good because he endured every single moment until it was finished … for me. Because he loved me. In my sin and ugliness and weakness and failure, he loved me.

And we can call it good because it wasn’t just one person he loved, but every one of us. His sacrifice was accomplished ONCE FOR ALL. Anyone who will turn from their sin and look to his cross for forgiveness and new life may come and receive freely the abundant gift of eternal life. No questions asked. No qualifications or conditions. The price has been paid. Cursed humanity has been ransomed.

Only come. Receive. Have faith.

And Friday is good only because of one enduring, eternal truth. Friday is good because Sunday is coming. Death didn’t keep him. The grave was forced to give him up. Friday is good because it was the only way we would know that our Savior is strong enough to take on the enemy we could never, ever conquer on our own.

Jesus is alive.