There You Will See Him!
Can I really meet Jesus? Distant … faint … soft echoes … like the incessant drip of a faucet, barely audible, but maddening in the pre-twilight of sleeplessness. You want to ignore it … and can for a moment or two … but then it returns … relentlessly … nagging at something in your soul … making sleep impossible. And in grief, this incessant dripping is torturous … agonizing … and mocking. No one knew this better than the women. “And after three days … after three days … after three days …” Now what was it that he said? “After three days … … I will rise again?” No way. Just wishful thinking. Just the disconnection with reality deep grief brings. But, “after three days …” That’s what he had said, wasn’t it? Or did I imagine it? I think he said it when he talked about being rejected and slaughtered like a sheep at their hands. But, I didn’t really get that. But he did say something about “after three days,” didn’t he? Slowly, tortuously, the women made their way to the tomb while the men slept. They wouldn’t wake them because sleep had been hard to come by in their shock and grief and shame. But, who would roll back the stone for them? Moving into place was a one person job, but getting it out of the mouth of the tomb was a chore for three strong men. How could a small band of women perform this? Maybe the soldiers would be accommodating? Or maybe someone else would help, like the caretaker of the tombs? Slowly, tortuously, incessantly, they moved toward the tomb. The faint streaks of sunrise filtered through the clouds making a glowing edge on some of the clouds hanging low in the spring sky. Golds, oranges, reds, and browns blazed against the fading indigo of the moonless night sky. They couldn’t help but be struck by the strange parallel as they brought their oil and spices to anoint his body this last time. Some remembered the anointing just a few days before and remembered Jesus’ sweet words, “She has done a beautiful thing.” This would be the last beautiful thing they would do for him. This one, however, was much harder and bitterer, for by now, the body that had blessed others would carry the pungent odor of death and the awful bruises and spatters of the beating, the gouges from the scourging, the place where flesh had been penetrated and ripped by nails, and the rip in his side from the spear. They came to offer him their love one last time as the sun streaked its first rays over the distant horizon. But still, in the background noise of their hearts, the women heard a distant dripping … an incessant soft echo in their souls. Hadn’t he said something … promised something … something impossible, inconceivable, something … they could not quite recall. The next evening, when the Sabbath ended, Mary Magdalene and Salome and Mary the mother of James went out and purchased burial spices to put on Jesus’ body. Very early on Sunday morning, just at sunrise, they came to the tomb. On the way they were discussing who would roll the stone away from the entrance to the tomb. But when they arrived, they looked up and saw that the stone – a very large one – had already been rolled aside. So they entered the tomb, and there on the right sat a young man clothed in a white robe. The women were startled, but the angel said, “Do not be so surprised. You are looking for Jesus, the Nazarene, who was crucified. He isn’t here! He has been raised from the dead! Look, this is where they laid his body. Now go and give this message to his disciples, including Peter: Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died!” (Mark 16:1-7 NLT) Astonishment, fear, and awe. That’s their reaction. While we know the rest of the story from the other gospels, Mark wants us to linger with them here in this moment of fearful and astonished awe. He wants us to pause for this awesome moment and hear the words of God’s messenger. Don’t be surprised – literally, “Don’t be afraid!”The Crucified One is not here, he has risen.He will meet you in Galilee! Those are the three words we also need to hear in our day. Don’t be afraid!Life is more than you can master. Life is fragile and will be crushed. You can’t hold it or preserve it or protect it. But don’t be afraid. But how? How can we not be afraid? He is not here, the Crucified One is risen.Jesus, who shared with us our every human struggle and bore with us every human strain and endured with us every human suffering, also suffered with us our very human death … at our own hands. He is the crucified one. There is no escaping that. But, look, the tomb is empty. Death couldn’t hold him. Satan couldn’t have him. The tomb couldn’t contain him. His enemies couldn’t crush him. He is risen. He is alive. He is … and was … is to come. Everything, everything, has changed … for us. He has gone ahead of you to Galilee and you will see him, just as he said.He said he would be rejected. He said he would be killed. And he said he would be … resurrected. Yes, he did say those things. Again and again he said those things. And they are true. They have happened, just as he said. So if what he said about those things is true, then the Galilee thing must be true, too. But why Galilee? Why not Jerusalem? Why not Mt. Sinai? Simple. Galilee is home. They will see him at home. He will be with them … at home! And
Did Jesus Wear Glasses?
Do we know the real Jesus? My son was wearing his new eyeglasses Sunday. He sat there beside me, not knowing I surveyed his every move. I looked down upon his face during the Worship Assembly, just as the communion tray passed by. I enjoyed his innocent, slightly freckled complexion and marveled how a recent trip to the barber was already giving way to the ever determined increase of new hair. His cheeks gently moved as his tongue manipulated a loose front tooth from side to side. As I took of the bread that is to believers the body of Christ, the small hands of my son passed the emblem on to his mother and I wondered about the incarnation. Any Bible Dictionary sets forth how God reveals Himself as human in Jesus. He is the embodiment of the Word, becoming flesh. As the God-Man, He mediates God to humans. As the Man-God, He represents humans to God. Manifestation, personification, and representation: Incarnation. A more practical theology fueled my imagination Sunday. I could not quit admiring the shiny gold rims of my son’s spectacles. Nor could I escape boyish questions that led me to a deeper communion experience. Did Jesus wear glasses? Did He have freckles? Did he look under his bed roll the morning after He lost His first tooth for a coin or two? What chores did his small hands perform for his mother? Who cut his hair? Was it auburn, almost red in the sunshine but brown at first glance? Did He have wavy locks, or did it come straight down like the Jesus of Hollywood so he could easily wear it long in the later years of His ministry? Sitting in that pew last Sunday, though the bread of communion passed me by, the Spirit of God did not. A fresh sense of the body of Christ came over me. Jesus really did become flesh and dwell among us. He really was a man, tempted in every way, just as we are, yet was without sin. The wafer in my mouth and the young boy at my side reminded me of the body of Christ and my place in it. His body … given for me. He enjoyed childhood, endured adolescence, and embraced the cross as a real flesh and blood man. He did this for me and for all little kids everywhere. And now I live and give my life, my son and family for Him. We’re His body today. I suppose Jesus never wore eyeglasses. I’m told the Chinese invented them years after He walked the streets of Jerusalem. Bifocals didn’t come along until Ben Franklin suggested the idea in 1770. But seeing my son there beside me last Sunday with his tiny new glasses made me realize somehow that Jesus was both fully man and fully divine. To remember anew how God sees me through the lenses of His love is a priceless gift. I was reminded in communion last Sunday, looking at my son, seeing God’s son. Pray this prayer with me today: Give me more vision to see you Lord. Thank you for Jesus and His servant, saving heart. Make me more like Him and make the church more and more like His body, broken as a gift to the world. About the author: Danny Sims is the preaching minister at the Altamesa Church of Christ in Fort Worth, Texas, and a longtime Heartlight supporter and friend.
How Sweet Is Revenge?
Is revenge really so great, or is it just a way to sink deeper? Theresa was a woman scorned. When she went to see her ex-boyfriend a few weeks ago now, she found him with another woman! Nobody likes to be rejected. Nobody likes the feeling of humiliation and injury that comes of the experience. We human beings have feelings and don’t appreciate having them stomped and betrayed. Theresa is no exception. So she had a few choice words for him and stormed out – still seething with anger. It was only about an hour later that she spotted him driving on the street in front of her. So she put her frustration in action to ram his car. Not once but twice. After the second slam into his rear bumper, she had forced the car off the road. Only when the driver got out and started toward her did she realize her mistake. It wasn’t her former boyfriend. It was a confused fellow driving a car similar to his! For her out-of-control assault on an unsuspecting and innocent driver, Ms. Wilson was arrested by state troopers on charges of vehicular assault. She not only learned that several different makes of compact cars from the 1980s look very much alike, but that revenge is seldom as sweet as it looks from a distance. Before we are too harsh with an angry woman bent on revenge, maybe the rest of us need to ask ourselves a few questions: How prone am I to harbor a grudge? How inclined to get even when wronged? How quick to take offense? There is a line near the end of Camelot that stuck in my mind the first time I heard it. As King Arthur surveys the ruin and carnage of war, he looks forlornly over the landscape and laments that revenge is “the most worthless of causes.” Countless wars have been fought to avenge tarnished honor. Friendships have been destroyed, marriages broken apart, and children set against their parents for this most worthless of causes. Simply because it leads to such terrible outcomes, most of the great ethical teachers across the centuries have rebuked the urge to retaliate. Jesus not only taught his followers to let offenses pass – to turn the other cheek – but to forgive our enemies. He said to return good for evil. If you have suffered some slight that is haunting you still and tempting you to get even, you might reflect on Theresa’s experience. Is the pettiness of revenge any less if you ram the right car? Hurt the person you intended to injure? Or does retaliation simply diminish you and reveal your lack of character? Revenge is never about getting even but is always a form of falling below another person. Only forgiveness allows you to rise above. Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Do things in such a way that everyone can see you are honorable. Do your part to live in peace with everyone, as much as possible. (Romans 12:17-18) 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.
He Died for Me!
How are we to respond to such an extravagant gift? This week, more than any other week of the year, the world is tuned to remember the last few days of Jesus’ life. Jesus was falsely accused, illegally tried, brazenly beaten, severely scourged, brazenly spat upon, blatantly taunted, viciously ridiculed, openly humiliated, purposely made a public spectacle, and brutally crucified before a jeering mob. He endured all of this even though he could have prevented it, for you and me! The Son of God submitted to the Father’s will and offered himself as a sacrifice for sins. The early followers of Jesus said it clearly and forcefully: For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures … (1 Corinthians 15:4 TNIV). Christ died for our sins! Let’s make this more personal: Jesus died for your sins. The Son of God died for my sins. How should we feel about such a gift? What should our response be to such a great sacrifice? Buddy was 19 years old when he was taken as a prisoner of war. During the 3 1/2 years of his imprisonment, he and his friends worked as slave labor, ate starvation rations, were tortured in unspeakable ways, endured daily abuse, and faced all sorts of diseases. Almost two-thirds of them died. I can’t imagine surviving such horrors for such a long period of time at such a young age. The cost that Buddy and his friends paid is enormous. As I read through Buddy’s now nearly 70-year-old copy of the New Testament, I realized that what I was touching was precious. This Book and these words sustained him during indescribably awful times. I also read the notes Buddy had written about those who endured these horrors with him – some of whom paid the ultimate price and never returned home to their families and friends. As I held this small Bible in my hands, I was moved in ways I can’t verbalize. As I read the Lord’s Prayer out of that Bible at Buddy’s memorial service, I was barely able to hold myself together. Several days prior to Buddy’s funeral, I visited with his family. Their words were filled with memory and admiration. As they told stories of his life, they made it clear that they wanted the cost paid by Buddy and his band of brothers to be remembered, respected, honored and appreciated. They also wanted everyone to know how proud they were of the way Buddy had celebrated life! They felt that Buddy’s life and sacrifice were not only awe-inspiring, but also life-inspiring! They didn’t want us to be sad, but thankful. They didn’t want us to feel guilty, but grateful. Nothing is comparable to Jesus’ sacrifice and his unparalleled gift of mercy and grace. Yet the sacrifice of Buddy and his band of brothers helps me understand a little better what my response should be to such a great sacrifice. While I am deeply saddened that my sins made such a costly sacrifice necessary, my primary focus is not on the sadness of his death, but his love for us in giving such an extravagant and life-transforming gift. (Romans 5:6-11; Romans 5:6-11; Ephesians 2:1-10; Colossians 1:20-22) God wants us to remember, appreciate, and honor his Son’s sacrifice. Yet rather than wanting us to live sullen lives of guilt and muted passion, the Father calls us to live bold and passionate lives of vibrant celebration. Look at the book of Acts and notice the lives of those who were first touched by Jesus’ death and resurrection: they lived passionate, vibrant lives of appreciation and hope. And when we look in the mirror, who are we to see? Aren’t we are the recipients of God’s extravagant love? How can we not respond with passion and celebration. So as we journey through this week, let’s take time to remember Jesus’ sacrifice with humility, reverence, and deep appreciation. But as we do, let’s also celebrate with confidence and joy, know that we are loved and called to live bold and vibrant lives that bring glory to our Lord who sacrificed so much to make us his own! Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him … … to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us … … in order that we, who were the first to put our hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory … … to the praise of his glory (Ephesians 2:3-14) When you remember that Jesus died for you – how do you feel? Is it easier for you to feel … … guilty? … sad? … joyous? … victorious? Why? Should we feel each of these different emotions when we remember Jesus’ death for us? Do you think it is significant that the early church celebrated the Lord’s Supper together on the first day of the week, the day of Jesus’ resurrection, and not the day of his trial, persecution, and crucifixion (Acts 20:7)? Jesus told his followers to take the Lord’s Supper “in remembrance of me.” The apostle Paul also adds, “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:24-26). How does this emphasis on anticipating the return of Jesus as we remember His death change the way we view the Lord’s Supper and the death of Jesus? If our “life-song” is to bring God glory (Ephesians 1:6, 12, 14), then how do we move from sadness to joyously living for the “praise of God’s glorious grace” (Ephesians 2:10) ? About the
When I Can’t, He Can!
What can’t you do? For the past year I have worked with a program that was specifically developed to help teenagers in danger of dropping out of school. To say the job is challenging would be an understatement. I was raised in a home with two parents who loved me and made sure I went to church every Sunday. I grew up thinking that the rest of the world had the same sort of home I did. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The problems my students deal with on a daily basis would make any soap opera on television seem tame. Because I want to protect their privacy, I’m not going to use real names in this story; but I want you to meet a few my students. My life has been enriched by knowing them, and after you read this, I think you will see why. Brenda is a very quiet girl who is fairly new to my program. Her mother died about a year ago, her father is remarried to a woman she doesn’t like and there are no other real family members who live in our area. Brenda is eighteen and lives in the house her mother left her, with only her pet cat for company. She can’t afford to pay her heating bill, so she’s moved a kerosene heater into one room and keeps the door shut to stay warm. She’s trying to work, go to school, and pay her bills. She’s struggling just to survive. She is extremely intelligent, but she is frequently absent from school. She is definitely college material, but will she make it there? I don’t know; she has a mountain of problems to climb. Another girl, Sybil, came to me this week and confessed she was addicted to drugs and wanted help. I spent the day dealing with social services, school personnel and her family. It wasn’t easy to get everyone to cooperate to get her into treatment. Even though she asked for help, the grandparents – who are raising her because the mother gave her up when she was just a baby – didn’t believe anything she told them. In a way, I can see why: Sybil’s lied to them many times. But, she wasn’t lying about this. I’d suspected for awhile that she was using and I wasn’t the only one. Like Brenda, Sybil has a mountain to climb, but hers is Mount Everest. Sybil’s mother has done crank for so long she only has six teeth left. Beside all the problems that come with crank, her mom is schizophrenic. One of Sybil’s greatest fears is that she’ll end up like her mother. Recently, her mother spent time in jail for beating up a man. Sybil was so distressed the whole time her mother was incarcerated that she acted out those frustrations at school. She was in and out of detention for weeks. Then when her mother was finally released, Sybil was thrilled … until her mother told her to find something else to do as she wanted to spend time with her boyfriend. The day Sybil asked me to help her get into rehab, I sat with her at Lifeskills until 6 p.m. When I left her, I kissed her goodbye, hugged her, and tried to keep back my tears. As I write this, she is in a hospital being evaluated. She’ll be there at least 72 hours. After that, it’s possible she’ll be released and go back to her grandparents’ house. Will she be strong enough to say “No!” the next time someone offers her drugs? She’s only sixteen, too young to be climbing Mt. Everest alone. I left Sybil and went to hear one of my students speak to a youth group at a local church. From the first time I met Todd, I knew he was different. It wasn’t until I heard his life story that I knew why. The room where Todd spoke was packed with teenagers. Todd held us spell bound for over an hour. He began by telling us about his childhood. His parents were alcoholics who verbally and physically abused each other on a regular basis. He told us how he became addicted to drugs and eventually joined a gang. He spent years stealing to feed his drug habit and then became a dealer. He eventually broke enough laws that he was wanted by the police; so he fled. For over a year and a half, Todd was on the run. By the time he was 17, he found himself in Michigan, far from the small Kentucky town where he’d grown up. He drifted around with unseemly characters and ended up in a Satanic church. He went to a party, got high and stoned, was beaten, robbed, and almost killed. Driven beyond despair and filled with self hate, Todd put a gun to his head. Before he could pull the trigger, he heard a voice whisper, “Todd, go to church. Go to church.” Todd called the one person he knew who attended church, a distant cousin. Todd not only attended a service, he became a member there. Now he carries a Bible with him wherever he goes – including my classroom – and he counsels troubled teens. He ministers to prisoners at the local jail and speaks to youth groups. After he finished telling his story, he was surrounded by teenagers. I managed to push my way to him, hug him, and then I left. I walked to my car with a lump in my throat and tears on my cheeks. All the way home, my thoughts swirled around in my brain like dark gray storm clouds. So many times I look at the teenagers in my class and think, “No way, they’ll never make it.” But I should be looking at them and thinking, “I can’t change their lives, but God can!” I felt as if Jesus were looking right at me, down into my soul, and saying
When Does Day Begin?
So how soon is it till dawn? You probably get discouraged about events in the news too. Terrorism. Family violence. Unemployment. Economic uncertainty. Some of the scary news may even be closer to home than the newspaper. Health problems. Damaged personal relationships. Friction among people in your church. It can be discouraging. And just whose responsibility is it to make things better? If your first thought is God, I would not propose to correct your answer. I would only remind you that God acts in this world through human agents. There is an old Hasidic story about a rabbi and his students. As they walked along one day, he asked, “How can we know the hour of dawn – the time at which the night ends and the day begins?” No one ventured an immediate answer, so they continued to walk. Then one of the rabbi’s disciples offered something. “Is it when you can look from some distance and distinguish between a wolf and a sheep?” “No,” said the rabbi. And they continued to walk. “Is it when there is light enough to distinguish between a grapevine and a thorn bush?” ventured another student. “No,” said the rabbi. There was a long silence. “Please tell us the answer to your question,” said one. “How is it possible to know the precise time at which the dawn has broken?” “The dawn comes for each of us,” said the wise old teacher, “when we can look into the face of another human being and – by virtue of the light that comes from within us – recognize that even a stranger is our brother or sister. Until then, it is night. Until then, the night is still with us.” Self-centered lives are cramped, provincial, and sad. It is only those souls large enough to live for others that are expansive with joy and bright with love. Love is, in fact, the only spiritual power great enough to overcome the selfishness that seems to be instinctive to being alive. There is so much darkness. Let’s pray for the dawn to come. Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you, the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard (Isaiah 58:8 RSV). 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.
I Don’t Want Them to Change Me!
Why keep doing what you’re doing? Elie Wiesel was brought up in a closely knit Jewish community in Sighet, Transylvania (Romania). When he was fifteen years old, his family was herded aboard a train and deported by Nazis to the Auschwitz death camp. Wiesel’s mother and younger sister died at Auschwitz – his two older sisters survived. Wiesel and his father were then taken to Buchenwald, where his father also perished. Wiesel has devoted his life to ensuring that the world does not forget the atrocities of the Nazis, and that they are not repeated. He tells this story: A just man decided he must save humanity. So he chose a city, the most sinful of all cities. Then he studied. He learned all the art of moving people, changing minds, changing hearts. He came to a man and woman and said, “Don’t forget that murder is not good, it is wrong.” In the beginning, people gathered around him. It was so strange, somewhat like a circus. They gathered and they listened. He went on and on and on. Days passed. Weeks passed. After a while, they stopped listening. After many years passed, a child stopped him and said, “What are you doing? Don’t you see nobody is listening? Why do you continue shouting and shouting? Why?” And the man answered the child, “I’ll tell you why. In the beginning, I was convinced that if I were to shout loud enough, they would change. Now I know they won’t change. But if I shout even louder, it’s because I don’t want them to change me.” We live in a world where there is a battle going on. I’m not talking about the conflict in Iraq or Afghanistan or Kenya. You may not even be aware that this battle is taking place, but I assure you that it is. It is a spiritual battle being waged between God and his people and Satan and his people (Ephesians 6:12). It is a battle for the control of the hearts and minds of men and women, including you and the people around you. We sometimes use the word “evangelism” to describe our attempt to influence ungodly people in a way that will draw them to God, the God who created them and loves them. But, we sometimes forget that efforts – sometimes diligent efforts – are being made by ungodly forces to pull us away from God. Be assured of this: One of two things is happening, either you are having an influence on other people or other people are having an influence on you. It’s a constant battle, much like a tug-of-war. And there are times, as in the story above, when we need to speak up or take some action, not so much to change others, but to prevent others from changing us. I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God (Romans 12:1-2 NKJV). About the author: Alan Smith ministers with the Church of Christ in White House, Tennessee and publishes the email devotional “Thought for the Day.”
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.