A Special Corsage for Easter

Betty was sent by God, whether she realized it or not, to encourage a young mother struggling to be the best she could be. Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:7-8). MO is at Black Rifle Coffee, Beyond Black is in the cup, a BRCC (Black Rifle Coffee Company) mix is on the playlist, and God is in the room helping me write about tender legacies of grace and faith. Dave and Sherri used to go to travel to San Saba for Easter. All the women in that little church wore corsages. It was tradition. Not that long ago, Sherri stood in my living room and shared this powerful story: The first year we didn’t go to San Saba for Easter was when Laurie, our little girl, was seven. Well, that year I didn’t get a corsage, and I didn’t think much about it. When Easter morning came around, little Laurie marched right up to me and stuck out her hand. She had worked and worked on a gift for me, a homemade corsage. It was different: colorful and carefully glued together, all made out of pieces of construction paper, using an old pearl pin as its base. “Here momma,” she said. “Oh, honey, it’s beautiful,” I lied. We hugged, and I got up to leave, but I picked up her little gift and pinned it on! “If my daughter made this,” I thought to myself, “then I am going to wear it, regardless of what it looks like.” Laurie beamed with pride. After the Easter service was over, we were standing in the aisle visiting when one of the older ladies, Betty, was her name, walked up wearing a lovely white orchid. She smiled and said softly, “Sherri, you have the prettiest corsage in this room. The prettiest!” We both smiled, but I beamed with pride, “My daughter made it!” “Well, last week,” Sherri continued, “I was cleaning out my closet and found that old corsage. This time I teared up. ‘My little girl made this…’ And, I remembered… Betty.” Sherri looked me in the eye and said, “Betty was sent by God, whether she realized it or not, to encourage a young mother struggling to be the best she could be.” We shared a teary smile. And Betty’s gift has outlived her. And… this story has outlived Sherri. Thank you, Abba, for surprise encouragers with gifts of lasting value… they make our eyes leak and our faces smile. About the author: Ron Rose was a beloved minister, noted author, and leader of several ministries. Ron made himself available as a listener and friend, spending time with people on the go and in coffee shops, sharing grace and a listening ear, and connecting them with God who is always in the room. Ron went to be with the Lord in November 2024, but his legacy of grace and encouragement lives on.

You Have Always Been Drawn to Wood

What would Mary have thought in such painful times? Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother … (John 19:25). I have often wondered what Mary, the mother of Jesus, thought as she watched her boy – who also happened to be God’s Son – die on the cross. Would she remember the manger of wood? Would she remember the wood shavings in her boy’s hair as Joseph, a true man of honor, stood by her and helped her raise God’s Son? Would she realize in looking back that her boy had always been drawn to wood? The following is a meditation I wrote years ago as I tried to imagine what it was like for Mary at the foot of the Cross. I hope these thoughts are a blessing and a challenge to you as we wait for the light of hope to dawn on Sunday and remind us that death does not have the final word in Jesus’ life, and because of Jesus, it does not have the final word in our own lives! As Mary stood watching, she remembered all of it, but especially that last conversation with her boy. He was not a boy, of course. He was tall and strong and more than thirty birthdays old. But, he still was her boy. “I must go now,” he had said, “I have always been drawn to wood.” She had looked into his dark eyes, her smile full of hurt and a mother’s love. “Such a fine young man,” she thought as she brushed the sawdust and wood shavings from his curly brown hair for the thousandth time. But this time was different. Something about the set of his jaw and the flash of fire in his eyes told her this was the last time. Even in his twenties, Yeshua was respectful and supportive. This was especially so after Joseph died. Yeshua took over the carpenter’s shop and did what the eldest son was expected to do. “You have sawdust and shavings in your hair, Yeshua. Just like when you were a little boy with your father.” She hoped her words might hold him close a moment or two longer. But as she spoke them, it was Mary who paused. She thought of the man who had stood by her when the only explanations were divinely insane. She missed him so. Yeshua’s presence in the shop had always reminded her of Joseph. While they looked nothing alike, he was very much his father’s son. With Joseph’s death had come the resurrection of suspicion and the cruel taunts, “Mary’s boy! Mary’s boy!” Yeshua would shrug and smile his wry grin, as if he heard some faraway song awakening some primal instinct deep within his heart. Mary’s smile and motherliness brought no response this time. “You have always been drawn to wood!” she said nervously. She had kept her feelings hidden, but since the wedding in Cana, she knew the promises from long ago were beginning to unfold. He was no longer her little boy – she knew it as well as she knew the dark eyes, the curls of brown hair, and the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to her. This was his goodbye. More than leaving home, he was leaving her and all she knew as family behind. “You have always been drawn to wood!” she softly repeated. She touched his brown curls and brushed the shavings from his hair one last time. It was true – he had always been drawn to wood. She had said it often, hoping against hope that it would keep him near her, or at least near the carpenter’s shop. Despite the angel’s promise that he would be King and Savior, when he was born, she had placed him in a wooden manger. Now, in the shadow of his cross, the thought now pierced her like a dagger, “You have always been drawn to wood.” “I must go, now, mother!” he had firmly said. “It’s time. James, Joses, and Jude can run the shop. They will take care of you. It is time for me to do what you know I must do. My carpentry is needed elsewhere. As you have so often said, ‘I have always been drawn to wood.’” As she stood shivering from the cold in her soul, she now remembered everything – the manger, the wood shavings, and especially that day he left. And now, just three years later, the rattling sounds of her son’s labored breathing shook her to her marrow. Tears stained her cheeks as she stood looking at the little boy she once swaddled and placed in the manger. Mary softly cried and said for the final time, “My precious son, you have always been drawn to wood.” About the author: Phil Ware has authored 11 years of daily devotionals, including VerseoftheDay.com, read by 500,000 people a day. He works with churches in transition with Interim Ministry Partners and for the past 21+ years, he has been editor and president of HEARTLIGHT Magazine, author of VerseoftheDay.com, God’s Holy Fire (on the Holy Spirit), and aYearwithJesus.com. Phil has also authored four books, daily devotionals on each of the four gospels.

The Hanging of Randal Batey

How is your perception? Brave men cringed and tender hearted women wept at the hanging of Randal Batey. As this evil bad man finally received his just punishment some turned away or fainted dead away! Well, not really, but it sounds good and now that I have your attention, let me tell you the “real” story about the hanging of Randal Batey. Much of life is about perceptions, isn’t it? It is how we perceive the world around us or how we perceived the laws that regulate our lives and our universe. (Perceive is defined as: “to attain awareness or understanding of or to regard as being such as “perceived threats.” A synonym would be “to see or behold.”) What does this have to do with the hanging of Randal Batey? Actually a whole lot! My friend Randal lives in Flint, Michigan. He has a large plot of land and enjoys the native wildlife. He and his wife, (Fran) especially enjoy the birds that flock to the bird feeders they have in the back yard. Let me set the scene now: Several years ago he built a swing set for his grandchildren out of 4 inch by 4 inch timbers. He left part of the top beam stick out on the end and he hangs his bird feeders there. A few weeks ago he noticed he needed to refill the bird feeders. He got his bucket of seed and headed to the feeders. He pulled a nearby lawn chair up and climbed up and began filling his bird feeders. As he was doing this, he noticed a police car drive around his house in the direction he was working. He said he immediately began to wonder what he had done wrong that would cause the police to come and pay him a visit. He continued with what he was doing and the police officer finally stopped the car and got out. When she came over she was laughing and he asked how he might help her. She said that she didn’t need anything, she was just checking on him, because from the road it looked as if he was hanging himself! We all laughed as he told the story! He said the funny thing was that they got a call a few days later from an old friend who had heard he had died and was calling to check on his wife. It’s all about our perception! Those things we see, observe or behold and then interpret in our lives based on what we think we see or understand. The sad thing is that often what we think we see, observe or understand has little to do with reality. Our perception is limited by how much we see or observe and often by our prior understanding of things. Let’s apply this concept to religious things: Many of the things people today believe about God, the Bible, Jesus or religion is based only on their limited perception. Those things which they have seen or observed, are skewed by their limited vision or understanding. The police officer didn’t really know what was going on until she got close enough to see things clearly. The problem with many people and religion is that they never bother to get a closer look. They base all of their understanding upon a casual observation or from a distance. They make decisions which will affect their lives for an eternity based upon often faulty perceptions. Let me give you an example from God’s Word of how it ought to be. Luke wrote the following: That very night the believers sent Paul and Silas to Berea. When they arrived there, they went to the synagogue. And the people of Berea were more open-minded than those in Thessalonica, and they listened eagerly to Paul’s message. They searched the Scriptures day after day to check up on Paul and Silas, to see if they were really teaching the truth. As a result, many Jews believed, as did some of the prominent Greek women and many men. (Luke 17:10-12 NLT) The hanging of Randal Batey was real in the mind of that Officer of the Law for a terrible few moments until she saw clearly. What terrible things or misunderstandings might be in your life and separate you from what God is truly all about? Maybe you need to take a closer look at what he is really all about, up close and personal as they say! About the author: Russ Lawson is a former missionary to Africa and minister in Ohio. He now works with World Christian Literature Outreach and writes a weekly email devotional, Messages from the Heart. For more information about Russ, click here.

The Ring of Authenticity

Can you tell if the imperfections have been cleansed? All 22 of us were standing in the shop and listening to our guide explain the unique nature of the porcelain works we were visiting. Made from a special mineral-content clay taken from nearby Turkish hills, some of the beautiful work was on display around us. All of us were interested in the process. He began by explaining the work of the master craftsman whose wheel was turning. A skilled artisan would take the clay and mold it under the steady pressure of his trained hands. Then, when the piece was in the form the master desired, it would be placed in a kiln heated to some 1,200 to 1,400 degrees Celsius. The delicate-looking plate, vase, or bowl would be left in that extreme heat for 14 hours, then allowed to cool for ten. In the transforming heat of the kiln, the clay forms glass and metal particles that interlock to form fine porcelain that has high mechanical strength and hardness. Henceforth, it is both resistant to thermal shock and penetration by chemicals that would weaken or discolor it. Finally, the translucent piece will be colored by an artist and glazed for the sake of brilliant and lasting color. Fascinating as the narration had been to someone who knew nothing of the process, the part of his account that impressed me most was yet to come. Reaching for a large bowl, the narrator asked, “Does anyone know how to distinguish high-quality porcelain from its inferior cousins?” I certainly did not and looked around only to see similar blank looks on the other 21 faces in our group. He smiled, balanced the bowl with the fingers and thumb of his left hand, and lifted it for all of us to see. “Please,” he said. “Listen!” With that, he thumped the lip of the translucent piece with the forefinger of his right hand. A distinct and resonant ring came from it and wafted over his audience – a sound almost as beautiful as the sight of the piece he had lifted for us to admire. “Now,” he continued, “listen to the sound from this piece that is flawed.” Lifting a piece with his left hand that looked identical to the first, he thumped it with his right forefinger. And the sound reminded me of one I used to hear as a child when I threw rocks onto the rusty tin roof of my neighbor’s barn. Grating. Harsh. Anything but beautiful. How like human character! All of us are being formed by life’s experiences and our practiced responses. Through the pleasant and unpleasant days, we are formed. Then the crisis moments put us into the fire. And we emerge – refined and matured, or embittered and brittle. Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow (James 1:2-3 NLT). If life gives you a thumping this week, pray that your heart will ring true. About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.

The Last Word

Who has the final say in our lives? Two brothers were playing in the back yard on a beautiful Sunday morning. All of a sudden their dog, Matt, bounded into the bushes and came out shaking a black and white lop-eared rabbit. The two brothers were aghast because the rabbit belonged to their neighbor, Mrs. Clausen. How could they tell their neighbor their dog had killed her pet rabbit? They decided to take their problem to their father since he always seemed to know just what to do. His suggestion, however, wasn’t very wise. He told the boys to hose the little fellow off real well so he would look nice and clean. Then they should dry him off with a towel and stick him back in the cage. Mrs. Clausen was at church while all this took place. When she returned home, they thought she would discover her pet rabbit, but would determine that it died a natural death. The boys did as their father had advised, then hid in the bushes to get a good vantage point to observe Mrs. Clausen when she discovered her dead rabbit. Sure enough, when she came home from church, Mrs. Clausen came out of the back door and headed for the rabbit cage. All of a sudden, the boys heard the worst screaming anyone has ever heard. Mrs. Clausen went on and on crying, shrieking, yelling, and asking God all kinds of questions. It was then that the mother and father of the boys came outside and approached their neighbor in her back yard, pleading with her to stop and tell them what had happened. When they finally calmed Mrs. Clausen down a little, they asked her once again what was wrong. In between sniffs and sobs she finally got it out: “I buried that rabbit three days ago.” We do the best we can to mask the reality of death, but to no avail. Death is not our friend, no matter what the circumstances. The Word of God makes plain that physical death is the last enemy of God to be destroyed (1 Corinthians 15:20-26) and will be completed defeated when Jesus returns. In the meantime, however, we must live with death staring us in the face. This does not mean that we should be afraid of death. Jesus’ resurrection has sealed the fate of death. Death will be swallowed up in victory and so its most powerful sting has been removed through the victory of Jesus who insures that our lives will not be lived in vain. (1 Corinthians 15:54-55) Since Jesus holds the keys of Death and Hades (Revelation 1:18) and I belong to Him, then death will not have the last say in my life. So the question we must all ask is this: “Do I belong to Him?” About the author: Joe Bagby has been preaching for thirty years. He and his wife Paula were missionaries to Thailand in the 80’s for eight years where they adopted twin girls, Hope and Joy. Joe receive his masters degree in Congregational Ministry from Abilene Christian University with a BS in Education from University of North Texas. He is now serving as Pulpit Minister for the 4th and Elm Church of Christ in Sweetwater, Texas.

Compliment Guys

Now aren’t you nice!? Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. If you speak, you should do so as one who speaks the very words of God (1 Peter 4:10-11). They were tired of it. Tired of people being grumpy, depressed, and worried. Tired of always worrying about the current economic climate. So Cameron Brown and Brett Westcott decided to do something to bring a little light and joy to their corner of the world – which happens to be Purdue University. They became The Compliment Guys. That’s what everyone calls them, anyway. Every Wednesday afternoon from 12:30 to 2:30, Cameron and Brett set up their “Free Compliments” sign near a main walkway outside the chemistry building. Rain, snow, sleet, cold – whatever the weather, The Compliment Guys are “In.” For those two hours on Wednesday, they live up to their name. Every person who walks by gets a compliment. To a guy in Purdue sweats they say, “Love your school spirit.” To a woman carrying a trendy black bag: “Very nice purse.” “It’s very large.” To the student who ran past them in knee-high leather boots: “I like your hustle.” “I like your boots, too.” The guys try to be very personal and specific in their compliments, too. “I like your red coat,” Westcott says to a woman listening to her iPod. She turned and laughed, which prompted Brown to say, “Very nice smile.” Three women leaving biology lab purposely walked by them. “I like your curly hair. Great smile. I like your glasses,” the guys said, pointing to each of the women. One Wednesday, they told a professor to enjoy his coffee, thanked the groundskeepers for their hard work and encouraged someone eating an apple to “stay nutritious.” While most people react positively, the guys sometimes get ignored, or get nasty looks, or the occasional obscene gesture. They get accused of being there only to pick up girls. (They both have girlfriends.) Some think it’s a psychology experiment. But Brett Westcott says their reasons for being The Compliment Guys are pretty straightforward, if not too sophisticated: “Just overall, making people’s day is really satisfying. Not enough people do nice things anymore.” I don’t know about you, but I think The Compliment Guys might be on to something. We’re a culture that doesn’t take seriously the power of words. Strange, when you think about how many words we speak, process, e-mail, and text every day. Everywhere we look, there are words: on signs, on screens, on forms and petitions, in documents and books, on labels and menus, billboards and bumper stickers. Everywhere we go, people are speaking: cell phones clamped to ears as they walk, Bluetooths (Blueteeth?) clipped to ears while they drive, in meetings and at coffee shops, in schools and churches and offices and bars and restaurants, over dinner with family and over conference calls with the home office. So many words. So little thought. How else to explain the careless ways that husbands and wives, parents and children, students and teachers, friends, colleagues, and fellow church members speak to each other? How else to explain the torrents of profanity yelled out of car windows when a driver feels cheated out of a spot in traffic that he thinks should have been his? How else to explain how we trivialize things like sex or family or even God with too many meaningless, thoughtless, graceless words? How else to explain all the ways in which we use words to hurt, manipulate, belittle, and control? So many words. So little thought. No wonder members of some religious orders take vows of silence. When you discipline yourself not to speak at all, you gain a better understanding of the value of words, in much the same way as a person who’s fasting understands the value of food. Maybe we Christians should give more thought to the vow of silence. I can certainly think of situations that would have worked out much better if I had taken one. Or maybe better, let’s discipline ourselves to use words more carefully. That’s where I think The Compliment Guys have it right. They’re making a choice to use words to “make peoples’ day.” They’re disciplining themselves, at least for two hours on Wednesday afternoons, to speak in ways that are positive, affirming, and encouraging. I suspect, too, that those two hours on Wednesday carry over, at least to some extent, in the ways that they speak when they’re “off duty.” “If you speak,” wrote Peter, “you should do so as one who speaks the very words of God.” I love that it’s Peter, of all people, who wrote that. Peter, the guy who was so well-acquainted with the taste of foot. The guy who swore he’d never desert Jesus, and then swore just as vehemently that he didn’t know him. He learned, somewhere along the line, and by the time he was an elder statesman of the church he had learned how much words mattered. He had begun to regard words, and the opportunity to use them, as gifts from God. He understood that the faithful words of God’s people are one of the many ways in which God’s grace takes form in this world. So he wanted the church to take words seriously. He charged them to give careful thought to what they said, to consider whether or not the words coming from their mouths or pens were suitable vehicles for the grace of God to travel in. “If you say something, make sure it’s something that wouldn’t seem out of place coming from the mouth of God himself.” Well, we can try to do better at least, can’t we? It might not work for you to set up your own “Free Compliment” stand at your own work or school. But then, there are other ways to bless people with your words than firing compliments at

Beautiful Feet

How pretty are your woofing dogs? The only feet I have ever admired are those that belong to babies or very young children. For the most part, I think adult feet are ugly. They have a right to be. Most of us, especially women, abuse them with shoes that don’t fit correctly or have inadequate arch support. Many years ago, my husband worked in a shoe store and he says it always amazed him when some women would shove their feet into shoes that were obviously too small. Not me. You won’t catch me in uncomfortable shoes. Once, my mother bought me a pair of shoes to wear to a cousin’s wedding. For some reason I don’t remember now, I didn’t try them on until the day of the wedding. They were too small and so painful that now, almost 20 years later, the only thing I can remember about the day my cousin said, “I do!” was how much my feet hurt. Ugly feet are hereditary in my family. Once, when all the women on my father’s side were together, we took off our shoes to show those who married into our family what their children’s feet might look like. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they thought we were kidding. However, when we took off our shoes, there was no denying the similarity. “How do they get that way?” they asked. “Genetics,” we all replied in unison. “Admire your children’s feet when they are babies because one day they may look like this,” my aunt advised. I remember my grandmother saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” But when it comes to feet, I didn’t believe that anyone could possibly find my feet attractive. I am so self conscious about them that I never wear sandals, flip flops, or open-toed shoes. No sirreee. I want those ugly puppies covered up as much as possible. Last week, I was reading my Bible and I came upon a verse that I didn’t remember. Paul quotes the Old Testament when he says, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news” (Romans 10:15 NLT). My mouth dropped open in amazement. The message was loud and clear. If I am a Christian and I am bringing the good news to others, I have beautiful feet! I slipped my shoes off and looked at the same twisted toes and huge bunions that I’ve looked at for the last several years. They definitely didn’t look beautiful to me, but if God thinks they are beautiful … I know they are. When my brother was a little boy my mother looked at his hands one day and told him he had beautiful hands. “No they’re not,” he argued. “Oh yes they are,” she replied gently. “The things they can do are beautiful.” And that’s the way it is with feet. No matter what they look like, when they help us carry the message that Jesus Christ came to this earth and died for our sins, that He arose victorious from the grave, and that He’s coming back for us one day, then our feet our beautiful indeed. About the author: Teresa is an accomplished author, speaker, mother, and grandmother. Teresa has been married to Bill for a lifetime of family, faith, and love. They are members of Pleasant Hill Church of Christ in Kentucky. They have 5 children and 4 grandchildren. Teresa is also the author of the popular women’s blog called “NanaHood”!

The Fourth Quarter

So are you ready for the buzzer to sound? I was raised in a home that loved Jesus, church, family and basketball. My dad was a University of Kentucky fan and if the Cats were playing, the whole family watched – thus the graphic at the top of the article celebrating the “Battle for Kentucky” tonight in this year’s “Sweet Sixteen.” When I grew up I married a “Yankee” who thought basketball was a sissy sport, I made him promise not to say that to my dad. Over the years, my husband realized that he was wrong. Now he loves basketball as much as I do. The years passed and we were blessed with four boys and a daughter. Three of our five children played basketball. We went to little league games, middle school games, high school games, and a zillion tournaments. My back ached from spending so much time on bleachers. At one point in my life, I would lay down at night to go to sleep and I could hear basketballs bouncing and tennis shoes squeaking! Even though I have never played basketball myself (they didn’t have a girl’s team when I was in high school) I have been around the sport so much that I often think in basketball terminology. The other day I was talking to my friend about something and I said something about being in the fourth quarter of life – they still play basketball in quarters in middle school, high school, and pros while colleges play in halves. She looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Well, we are into our 50s. Assuming we live about as long as our parents… I think it’s safe to say this is the fourth quarter of life.” She thought about it a minute, “We might get an over-time,” she said with a grin. We might, but regardless of how long we live, eventually we reach the fourth quarter. Then it’s not long before “game over” – the buzzer sounds and everyone goes home. When I was younger, I was too busy living life to think much about the fourth quarter! Now that I’m older, I realize that one of the reasons I didn’t want to think about it was I knew I wasn’t ready for the final buzzer. I wasn’t ready to face the coach and give my answer for how I had played the game. Ready or not, this life – your life and my life – will end. Ready or not, we will all answer to God for the life we have lived. No matter how old or young we are, let’s live with commitment so that when the final buzzer sounds, or when the coach takes us out of the game, we are ready to face our final score with confidence! The apostle Paul loved athletic metaphors, too. Notice what he says about finishing with confidence: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me – the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing (2 Timothy 4:6-8 NIV). About the author: Teresa is an accomplished author, speaker, mother, and grandmother. Teresa has been married to Bill for a lifetime of family, faith, and love. They are members of Pleasant Hill Church of Christ in Kentucky. They have 5 children and 4 grandchildren. Teresa is also the author of the popular women’s blog called “NanaHood”!

How You Can Minister to Christ

How can we minister to Jesus? When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them … (Matthew 9:36) On my first visit to a prison in northern Portugal, in the mid-1970’s, I was taken by the way the inmates welcomed us … There were hugs and big smiles and it seemed like they jumped up and down with joy every time we came. At first, I thought that the warm welcome the inmates gave to my companions and me was because I was the voice of a Bible study radio broadcast, and they wanted to meet the man behind the voice. Later, I found out that once those men were locked up, they were abandoned. Neither their relatives nor their friends came to see them. Let’s face it: who would want to have a convict for a friend, or for a cousin, or even for a brother? During one of my first visits to the French Robertson Unit here in Abilene, one inmate’s first words to me were: “Welcome to the Cemetery of the Living.” Later on, that same man confided to me I was his only visitor in ten years. He had not had a single person come to visit him in an entire decade. Another inmate there – a man from Matanzas, Cuba – gave me his home address in his country. The first chance I had to visit Cuba, I went to see his family. There I learned that they had had no communication with him for the past twenty years. The man’s mother had died, and he was unaware of it. When Paul admonished the Colossians about being supportive, (Colossians 3:13) he did not say that the Christian should bear with his or her brothers and sisters only when the circumstances were right! No, we are told to be supportive all of the time, even when it is uncomfortable or risky to do so. To shoot a wounded comrade would be bizarre behavior for a solider. Yet this is what we do every time we turn our back to a hurting brother. And when we visit the sick and the prisoners, they are not the only ones who receive a blessing. It blesses us just as well. These people are very close to the heart of God. According to Matthew 25:45, as we minister to them, so we are ministering to Jesus Christ himself. What a thought! We can minister to Christ. About the author: Lou Seckler works with Harvest Ministries in Abilene, Texas

I Will Cling to the Old Rugged Cross

Like him, and because of him, we live and die to live again. First Thoughts: If I could turn the calendar back about 21 centuries and relive a week from the life of Jesus, I think this – the most awful and the most wonderful week of his young life – is the one I would choose. In this week, he would be the guest of his Bethany friends, be anointed by Mary and another Mary, make his heroic entry into Jerusalem, teach from the Mount of Olives, share the Last Supper with his apostles, experience betrayal, denial, endure one mock trial after another, then finish his mission on earth on a cross. This week would be endured because of the victory to be celebrated on a single day of the week to follow. On the first day of that week – Sunday, what we call Easter Sunday or Resurrection Sunday – would come the joyous news that He is not here; He is risen; He is risen indeed! Like him, and because of him, we live and die to live again. Remembering and Reliving: It was a quite ordinary church service until… until a college student rose to announce that he and some friends had been asked to help create a mood for communion, the Lord’s Supper. Our part was to sit quietly, with heads bowed and eyes closed, no matter what we might hear or sense. Suddenly, the silence was broken by WHAM! It was the sound of a heavy hammer blow followed by cries of pain. And, from different parts of the room, cries of “Crucify him! Crucify him!” were heard. Muted, but still heard in the background, was the noise of hammer blows and the anguished cries of unbearable pain. Some thought that communion devotional 30 years ago had profaned something sacred. I thought it had made real the raw emotions we usually gloss over with a bit of bread and a sip of wine. For me, it was a communion like no other, and every Sunday I still hear those screams and hammer blows all over again. In 1957, a journalist and author named Jim Bishop created a stir in the religious world with his best-selling The Day Christ Died. More recently, no less a media personality than Bill O’Reilly has included in a series of books one titled Killing Jesus. Countless others, beginning with all four gospel writers, have tried to make the passion of Christ so real that we really do feel like we were “there when they crucified my Lord.” Telling Jesus’ Story: Twenty-one centuries later, we still struggle to tell the story so effectively that our questions are all answered and our emotions so involved that the story just won’t let go. It’s a story that takes place in less than a day – about 22 hours ending shortly before the beginning of Shabbat, the Sabbath. Jesus and the apostles gathered in an upper room for the Passover meal, which we know as The Last Supper. From there they made their way to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed, was betrayed, and arrested. If you’re keeping score, there were seven trials or hearings in less than 24 hours. Preachers tell the story over and over, trying to capture its essence. Lawyers discuss the legality of the various trials. And doctors describe in all the gory detail what death by crucifixion was like. Whether the Romans invented crucifixion or copied the practice from the Persians, they were interested in swift, public, painful punishment, convinced that it would serve as a deterrent for would-be criminals. Only Luke describes the agony of Christ beginning in the Garden of Gethsemane, where, “being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground” (Luke 22:44). A physician, Luke recorded that medical phenomenon and left us to decide whether the sweat was only similar to blood or a rare condition called hematidrosis, where tiny capillaries in sweat glands burst from stress actually causing a mixture of blood and sweat. The blood of Gethsemane was only a portent of the blood Jesus would shed that same night. It’s tempting to just read about the scourging that took place and pass quickly over a word we don’t use any more. But, it takes on new meaning when we visualize the flagrum or flagellum, a handle with leather thongs and lead balls near the ends. Applied vigorously to the prisoner’s back, the scourge would initially inflict surface cuts, and then deeper ones, until muscle tissue was torn to shreds, and arteries spurted until prisoners would eventually bleed out if the executioners were willing to wait. Because of Jesus: But, they were not paid to wait. And Luke, as if he couldn’t bear the details he was writing, summed them up in a short sentence: “And they crucified him” (Luke 23:33). That sentence doesn’t capture the pain of nails through hands and feet, or the blood streaming down from thorns puncturing Jesus’ scalp, or the excruciating thirst, or the pain in hands and shoulders as his body sags, or the pain in feet and legs as he struggles to rise and exchange one pain for another, or the pain of breathing in, and the greater pain of breathing out. Somehow, he manages to gasp out his words, his sayings from the cross, finally summoning the strength to cry with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Because of Jesus, “I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown!” Special thanks for the use of images related to Jesus’ ministry from The Lumo Project and Free Bible Images for use on Phil’s blog, “The Jesus Window”! About the author: These Encouraging Words from Phillip Morrison are drawn from more than 60 years of ministry and life as a husband, father, grandfather, editor, and writer. A devoted follower of Jesus, Phillip has