This blog is designed to create community for believers and provide support for seekers. I encourage all readers to share their faith in an effort to lift and encourage one another.
Mark 14: 22-24 “While they were eating, Jesus took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.”
Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, e gave it to them, and they all drank from it. ‘Truly I tell you, I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.'”
Even as Jesus’ eminent arrest and death neared, he took care of his disciples. He fed them. Physically, and spiritually. He made sure they were spiritually filled before he suffered and died. Before he returned.
God, I am amazed at the ways you take care of us, even when we are clueless. Thank you for your loving kindness and your sacrificial grace.
Good Wednesday morning, my friends, here’s a bit of springtime to inspire you. Enjoy~
I love springtime! Overnight the world changes from dull, dry, and dead to colorful, vibrant, and alive. The trees, which stretched their bare arms heavenward all winter, now dress in a pale green blush. Our Bradford pear tree nods its white, blooming head gently in the spring breezes. Yesterday, the grass was brittle and brown. Today it is soft and green. Even the dandelions (which Scott so diligently worked to exterminate last summer) look beautiful nestled in their greenery.
It’s exciting to examine new growth in the gardens. The phlox, low to the ground, carpets the yard with purple. The forsythia bushes glow a vivid yellow beside our gray house. Everywhere signs of new life abound. The greenery of snapdragons, daisies, hostas, bee balm, and yarrow promise future blooms. The clematis vines, recently just dead sticks, sprout new growth at every intersection. Dozens of purple cone flower plants already climb several inches high, assuring a future of beautiful flowers and nectar for bees and butterflies to enjoy. Spring is such an exciting time as the perennials burst forth with new life and a promise for beautiful, fragrant summertime blooms.
Do you feel that sense of new growth and springtime revival in your soul? Deep within our hearts we recognize a spirit of growth, its green tendrils growing ever closer to God, seeking His face. The palest green blush of revival is evident in us as we stretch our arms heavenward. While we work, pray, and seek God’s guidance, we can almost feel the buds of future flowers forming on the green plants of our spirits. We eagerly anticipate the new blooms, filling our lives with God’s beautiful purpose and the fragrance of His sweet spirit.
Oh God, our master gardener, nurture the garden of our souls. Eradicate the weeds of doubt, dissention, and fatigue. Enable our garden to bring forth lovely blooms infused with heavenly fragrance, and receive all the praise and glory for the sweet beauty of the heavenly garden of our souls.
John 1:1, 4 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener….Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”
“Our Lord told His disciples that love and obedience were organically united. The final test of love is obedience.”― A.W. Tozer
This quote seems so appropriate for this week. For as Jesus walked his last days in Jerusalem, he obeyed and gave us the most perfect love, sacrificial love. What amazing grace.
Thank you, Jesus for obeying the Father and giving us your perfect love.
John 12:14 “Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written, ‘Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion; see, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.’”
One sleepless night not too long ago, I lay awake, imagining what it must have been like to watch a king enter the ancient city of Jerusalem.
I can still see it vividly in my mind’s eye. Before I can even glimpse the king, trumpets herald his arrival. Soon 40 soldiers enter the crowded city, each proudly straddling a high-stepping stallion. Eyes staring at the road ahead, the men ride ramrod straight, armor and weapons glinting in the sun.
Between the two groups of mounted soldiers rolls an ornate carriage, resplendent with gold leaf. Four perfectly matched black stallions, crimson ribbons braided into their manes and tails, pull the carriage effortlessly. In that carriage sits the perfectly tailored king, his brocade coat trimmed in ermine. Rubies and emeralds adorn his fingers.
The golden crown, encrusted with precious stones, reflects the bright sunlight. As he passes, the cheering throng bows low, each man hoping the king will scatter some coins his way.
How different was our King’s triumphal entry! No trumpets heralded his arrival. No soldiers, no horses came before Him. Instead of an elaborate entourage, He was accompanied by a few simple men, broad shouldered and tanned from hard, outdoor work. They walked alongside Him, wearing roughly woven clothes.
Jesus sat astride a young donkey. He wore no gold nor gems, but only a simple cloak and sandals. Although Jesus had no coins to throw to the people, His intangible gifts were far more costly than gold. A slight smile played at the corners of His mouth, but the dark brown eyes filled with sorrow.
In spite of His poverty and ordinary appearance, the people sensed something special about this man. They loudly cheered, “Hosanna, King of Kings!” and laid palm branches at His feet.
How quickly the cries of the crowd changed! A few short days later the cheers of “Hosanna” changed to jeers and shouts of “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” Many of those who had proclaimed Him king now clamored for his death. Even his closest friends ran away and denied they even knew him.
How, I wonder, could these people change so quickly? How could they proclaim him king one day, and not even acknowledge his existence the next?
As I sit quietly and think, I realize, with humility and shame, that I have done the very same thing. How many times do I go on my merry way, never acknowledging Christ as the king of my life, never seeking His divine guidance?
How many times do I deny His existence by failing to speak out against injustice or not sharing His good news with another? If He is truly king of my life, why do I not get down on my knees every day and praise my spiritual king?
Jesus, king of my life, help me to bow in humble obedience and recognition of your lordship in my life.
Psalm 10: 16-18 “The Lord is King for ever and ever, The nation will perish from his land. You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted, You encourage them, and you listen to their cry, Defending the fatherless and the oppressed, So that mere earthly mortals Will never again strike terror.”
How reassuring is this? No matter who is leading a country, “The Lord is King.” So in times of turmoil or dissension, we know who is in charge. Our King hears ours desires when we are “afflicted.” His listens to our cries and defends us in times of difficulties. What a beautiful promise to cling to.
Thank you, Lord, for keeping your promises. Thank you for hearing our cries in times of oppression and problems. You are still the King of kings. Hallelujah!
This morning I cleaned my stove. You know, took out the burners and the drip pans and cleaned all the accumulated gunk. Most of it wiped up easily, but a few spots took a little elbow grease and some steel wool pads. Before long, the stove looked shiny and (nearly) new.
As I worked, my mind meandered, as it tends to do. I thought about all those meals I’d cooked on this stove. Would you believe it? Thirty-one years’ worth of meals. That’s a lot of years and a lot of meals. Any botched meals were the fault of the cook, not the stove. It endured boil-overs, splatters, occasionally burned food, and spills on the burners.
As my mind wandered, I couldn’t help but compare myself to that stove. Thurty-one is pretty ancient for a stove. Now I don’t consider myself ancient, but I am retired, and I am on Medicare. Even though I don’t like the title, I am officially classified as elderly.
In all my years, I’ve botched many things, said or done the wrong thing to the wrong person. I have boiled over in anger, regretting words that came out of my mouth. Over the years, there have been countless occasions where I’ve just made a mess of things. I haven’t always followed God’s recipe for my life. I’ve been spiritually careless and taken things and people for granted.
I am so grateful that God is always willing to clean up my messes. No matter what I have said or done, or how often I have ignored his suggestions, He is willing to forgive. Even when I make a huge mess, He helps me clean it up, He forgives and offers me grace. He opens my eyes to truth and wisdom in His word, and He shows me a better way. Are you ready to ask Him to help you clean up your messes and offer you grace?
Father, thank you for cleaning up my messes. Thank you for sending your son to offer grace to all of us that we may be sparkling clean in your sight.
“The literal translation of the words ‘pray always’ is ‘come to rest.’ The Greek word for rest is hesychia, and hesychasm is the term which refers to the spirituality of the desert. A hesychast is a man or a woman who seeks solitude and silence as the ways to unceasing prayer. The prayer of the hesychasts is a prayer of rest. This rest, however, has little to do with the absence of conflict or pain. It is a rest in God in the midst of a very intense daily struggle.”
~Henri Nouwen~
I love this description of prayer. In spite of circumstances, desirable or awful, through praying always we come to rest in our Savior.
Thank you Father, for letting us speak with you and listen to you. Thank you for giving us spiritual rest.
Growing Our Faith Together 