he goes before us

So many things happened on that Thursday. The day right before Jesus was killed was indeed a busy one.

 

There were feet to wash. There was bread and wine to be given new meaning. There were prayers to pray and anguish to feel. There were hymns to sing and betrayal to be acted on. There was talk of death and promises.

 

In all of it, Jesus goes before us. He leads the way, showing us how to love well—even those who would betray us. He gives high and holy attention to the act of serving one another by serving those who had argued for place and position. He enlightens the disciples about the coming of his death and his willingness to go to it out of obedience. He gives us new traditions to practice so we never forget his body and his blood. He offers hope in the face of apparent tragedy.

 

He goes before us.

 

Jesus even leads the way in exposing our sin and waywardness. Even as he is about to die for us he acknowledges that we really aren’t up to the task of standing by him, remaining faithful, and unashamedly call him our Lord. He knows us.

 

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”      Matthew 26:31-32

 

But he promises, yet again on this Thursday, to go before us.

 

“But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”

 

Even though all the disciples are going to fail him, even though they are all going to run when things go wrong, Jesus wants them to know that he’ll go before them. He’ll be ready to meet them. When it comes time for the resurrection reunion, Jesus will be there first.

 

Is there anything that underscores the beauty of the grace of Jesus like his willingness to bring us back to him when we sin? His leads us in our redemption.

 

He goes before us even in this. He died to make us his own and then he rushes ahead of the betrayers, the fear mongers, the embarrassed followers, to claim them as his own with love and the gift of peace.

 

This is Jesus, our Savior.

 

He goes before us in death, before us to defeat sin, before us in resurrection, before us in eternal glory. He is Jesus.

 

Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.           1 Corinthians 15:20-21

 

waiting for resurrection

When a boy runs to serve and obey with such loving enthusiasm he is a man of God regardless of his age. 

Little less than a year ago my family found and continues to be blessed by a family that has been—almost from the moment of our meeting—so much more than friends. They are as much my family as are my own blood. Our bond runs deep in the one Spirit that unites us.

 

Last week, while I was out of the country, this dear and precious family lost their young son. A boy whose name literally means “energetic servant” and who lived up to the fullness of that meaning in the short, almost three years of his life. I know that most of you who find joy in reading these posts I write don’t know me personally. Of those who do know me, most don’t know this family and never had the privilege of meeting this small servant with great, big energy. I do not write of him today “for” anyone else in particular, but truly for my own need to consider his life, learn from his heart, and celebrate the hope we cling to. It’s my prayer that you are encouraged as well by these words of reflection. Thank you for the grace this space provides me to write and reflect on this journey we are taking—both the joys and the immense pains of it.

 

There are times in life when we must press hard into the truth of Scripture and continually preach the gospel to ourselves. This is one of those times and the hope of the resurrection has never been so sweet and so desperately needed.

 

There is a part of me that feels guilty at the desire to write about this loss. I feel selfish, as if I am simply seeking to soothe my own raw heart, looking only to bring comfort to my moment of pain. But I know, even as I write, that this simply isn’t true. I don’t presume to hurt most for losing him—in truth my greatest pain is for his sweet mother and strong father whose pain I can scarcely fathom. They have always loved him with such unabashed passion and joy, just as they have always loved his precious sister.

 

Watching them grieve and cling to the truth and weep and reel in the pain has been heart wrenching. It has been my honor to come along side them in meager attempts to love them through it, knowing that I can say nothing of value but the truth of Scripture. I can offer nothing but a clarion call to the cross of Jesus. I can give no words to soothe but the promise of resurrection.

 

So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.

1 Corinthians 15:42-40

 

The resurrection. That is what brings hope and help in this dark and muddied time of pain. The perishable and the broken can so easily fill the view these days. The most unnatural of all things—death—can seem to be all. It is not. I will remember. I will proclaim. The dead will be raised when Jesus comes.

 

As I said in opening, this boy ran to serve and loved to give of himself. He obeyed by his father’s own recalling, with the words, “Yes, my daddy!”

 

Constantly quick to say I love you and always proud to sing of God’s love for him, this young servant of God knew of the joys of love; love that only comes from God. He did not argue theology or explain with profundity the finer points of God’s character, but he lived in the freedom and generosity of his Father’s love. As his parents testify and I have witnessed, he ran everywhere. After all, if you’re going, why not get there quick? And so he ran everywhere, even into the arms of his eternal Father, arriving much sooner than any here would have chosen.

 

I love this boy and I love his family. I will remember him and share stories of him with my children, listening to their stories as well. I will listen to the stories his parents remember or the ones his sister recites. We will cry and we will laugh and we will love him on and on.  And we will wait eagerly for the day when resurrection comes alive. When reunion is made complete and restoration is given by the Creator Savior. We will hope and we will remember and we will cling to the truth of things made right and salvation made complete. Resurrection is coming because our Lord is coming.

 

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.   

Romans 8:22-23

 

Until then, we will groan. Things here just aren’t right. Dying, just isn’t right. We will groan and we will weep and we will hurt. But we will hope. We will hope because we are waiting. Waiting for adoption, waiting for redemption, waiting for resurrection.

 

Come Lord Jesus.

 

God in time

But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, “Abba, Father.” Now you are no longer a slave but God’s own child. And since you are his child, God has made you his heir.            Galatians 4:4-7

 

On my way in to work today I was thinking about the death and resurrection of Jesus. Thinking about Jesus come down from heaven. Thinking about his life and the 30 plus years he lived all to get to that moment of sacrifice and death. What kind of love lives with the sole intent of giving itself up completely for those who don’t even care or understand what’s being sacrificed?

 

“When the right time came…” That’s what Galatians says. When the right time came God sent his Son. When the right time came God gave up all, gave up himself. When the right time came God loved enough to subject himself and buy our freedom. He adopted us and brought us into the family; made us children and made us intimate with himself.

 

This is love like we can only struggle to begin comprehending. Have we ever loved without conditions? Have we ever loved without gain? Maybe for a moment. Maybe in extreme cases or with people we consider especially close. Jesus went beyond—far beyond—our sometimes and momentary love. He went beyond our “for certain people” kind of sacrificial loving. He loved all.

 

And I am struck by the fact that he did it at just the right time. God—who isn’t confined by time. God who is free from the bounds of time and space limited himself, held himself in these restrictions just to love us to the extent we needed loving. He gains nothing ultimately from doing this for us. I mean, yes, he gains glory for his name and relationship with us—which he wanted all along (it’s why we were created), but truly he doesn’t gain from this. It’s not as if we complete him in some way or give him what he didn’t already have.

 

He could have just scrapped us all and chucked the whole creating us in his image plan and just continued for all eternity forward enjoying the relationship he had from all eternity past: relationship within himself. But this isn’t what love does. Love doesn’t give because of what’s in it for the giver. Love doesn’t sacrifice and share just because it needs something from the one it loves. God simply loves because that is who he is. That is what he does. It isn’t about what he gets from it. It’s about being himself; being love.

 

I don’t about you, but today I am simply grateful for a love that limits itself. A love that gives without considering what it “gets” in return. I am so thankful for a God who came at just the right time and restricted himself to time.

 

Sometimes I feel this desire to write something “new” and come up with brilliant insights or thoughts that make people think, “Wow, I’ve never realized that; never considered that before.” (Obviously, I’m wrestling with my own desire for gain and pride.) What I’m writing here isn’t new information. These aren’t new thoughts. This isn’t ground-breaking ideas. But this is the best of thoughts I could ever write: remembering the love of God come near. Recalling the gift of a God who limits himself for our gain.  

 

I think we could all benefit from considering it again, this love of Jesus. Reveling in a God-love that defies our rules and expectations of what power does. It should shape our lives and relationships and how we make choices. Hopefully it will begin by shaping the way we live today.

 

never like this

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

 

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 

 

“Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. 

 

Jesus wept.     John 11:32-35

Why is Jesus crying? Is he unsure if he can bring Lazarus back? Did he not expect this? Did he think he had more time?

 

No. that’s just not it. But then what? Why?

 

This is all wrong. That’s why.

 

It was never meant to be like this. They created, they made, they brought it all into existence. All the tress, the flowers, the creatures, the people—especially the people. Made with image, made with soul, but not for this. Never for this. This just isn’t what they had in mind when creating. Separation is never what they have in mind. They made to be with. They made to have life.

 

All this ruin, this loss, this ending. No, this was never meant to be.

 

And so he cries. Cries for their loss. Cries for their pain. Cries in spite of the fact that he will bring Lazarus back. He cries because he knows—he knows they will all need to be brought back. Death is a ruiner, a separator, an ender. And yes, yes they had created, but it was not for this. This was never meant to be; never like this.

 

And he cries because this is why he came. To stop this madness; to put an end to the ending. Death must go down, it must be stopped. All this sorrow, all this pain of people losing people—it moves him deeply; troubles him in the soul.

 

He cries because he is dying to stop the dying.

 

Everything else he has seen: the legs that won’t walk, the eyes that no longer see, the skin that isn’t as it should be, all the healing he must do and has been doing. He knows that all of it is just this in disguise. It’s just this hinting at the corners of life. The ruin of death is the problem, because it was never meant to be like this.

 

And when it’s done—the crying and the rising; when it’s done Jesus says the words.

 

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”          John 11:44

 

These are the words we live for. These are the words our souls need. And this is why he came. To bring us all back; we all need bringing back. This was never meant to be—this dying and separation. But this is what is. So he comes. He comes to cry with those who lose what never was meant to be lost. He comes to take off grave clothes and let us go.

 

And that is what was meant to be.

 

greater than Jesus?

The weekend offers a little extra time to consider, to perhaps dive a bit deeper into the Scriptures. Schedules can slow down a bit and offer more opportunities to think. So here is a topic and several scriptures to consider. Please share your own thoughts or comments.

___________________________________________________________________________________________  

Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe on the evidence of the works themselves. Very truly I tell you, all who have faith in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.          John 14:11-12

 

The other day I was writing down notes on this place in John where Jesus says some pretty amazing things. I mean, have you ever really considered what Jesus is saying here in John 14? We will do greater things than Jesus did?!

That must be hyperbole right? Jesus just being Jesus—saying things for shock value and to get people’s attention, and then later it turns out he means something different than what it sounded like. That has to be it, right?

But it doesn’t seem so. You don’t see the subtle reveal and it turns out that what he really meant was a little different than first appeared. There isn’t the gathering of the disciples off to the side where Jesus helps them put the pieces together and explains it all. We don’t find this being one of the things that disciples misunderstood until after the resurrection and then suddenly it all clicks and they realize he meant something different than they thought. No, he just leaves it at this. And so do the disciples. And so does Paul. The Bible doesn’t offer further commentary on what jesus says here. At least not direct commentary.

So I was pondering this and questioning and considering what Jesus must mean and how could I do greater things than Jesus when I definitely don’t even do “as good as” things. And I was wondering at how frustrating it is to read things like this and considering just moving on and chalking it up to the millions of things in the Bible I don’t understand.

Then, later in the day I found myself reading Ann Voskamp’s writing on this same subject, on the same day I was reading about it. Weird. Or maybe God. Sometimes I’ve found it’s harder than you might think to distinguish between the two!

Ann wasn’t looking at the passage in John, but a related passage in Mark. It reads like this:

 And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.” Mark 16:17-18

You can read Ann’s whole writing on this passage here. It is well worth your time. And helpful in considering the words of John 14.

As for John 14, where does this leave us? What does it look like to do greater things than Jesus? I’ve never healed the sick. I’ve never commanded the dead to rise again. I’ve never walked on water. How could I do greater things than these?

I have however, had moments—brief though they may be—of living with resurrection power. With Jesus in me I have forgiven when it was beyond painful to do so. I have let go of habits and bitterness and hate. I have carried the whole of God in my heart and walked roads I would rather have run from. I have watch myself heal and heard the Spirit speak.

Is that what Jesus means? Are the greater things than what he did things we can do because of what he did?

 

Consider these words from John 14: “…all who have faith in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these.”

 

What does that mean? What should we expect?

Please share your thoughts and questions.

near

 

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ.                        Ephesians 2:13

Access. That’s the story of Jesus. Access to the Father, Creator, God. Why did Jesus come to earth?  Why did Jesus have to die? Access.

We were far away, on the outside, and now we have been brought near. That’s Jesus. That’s what he does for us. God with us. God at our fingertips and as close as our breath. God in our thoughts and walking our steps; carrying our burdens and knowing our fears. God closer than loneliness and more approachable than the oldest of friends. This is God near–this is us near to God. Life in our life. Purpose in our wanderings. Hope in our darkness. God with us; God in us—through blood.

It seems a gruesome way, but it was the only way. It’s not an attractive way, but it’s the real way.

We were far away, but Jesus died, was buried, and rose again. Paul says this is the most important thing—it’s first. Because by doing these things Jesus brought us near.

Jesus allowed us to come near, but come we must. God in his graciousness does not force us. He makes the way and invites—implores—that we come. And as we come near, He comes nearer still.

Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.          James 4:8

 

So why do we live as if we are far away? Why do mornings pass and we do not greet the day with the Father? Why do days pass and we only talk with Him when we are about to eat? Why do we walk in fear, why do we seek validation from a world that only wants to use and throw away? Why do we live far away—as if we have no power and no hope? Why do we live like the world that is still far away?

Being near to God should make us shine like the dawn. We should be visibly different even if those who see us don’t get it or know what it is. We are near, and with nearness comes a bit of the glory rubbing off. Just ask Moses. He had the nearness and it was visible.

So let’s live near. Let’s live close. Let’s embrace the God who gave all for proximity and relationship.

 

Where can I go from your Spirit?
       Where can I flee from your presence?

 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
       if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
       if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 even there your hand will guide me,
       your right hand will hold me fast.        Psalm 139:7-10

just as He said

 

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”          Matthew 28:5-7

 

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed!

And He knew—all along He knew! Even in the Garden of Gethsemane when he longed for another way. Even on the cross when He cried out to His Father about being forsaken. Always He knew.

He tried to tell the disciples, but they didn’t get it. He tried to tell the crowds, but they were confused. He tried to tell the Pharisees; they just thought He was arrogant, or maybe crazy. But as the women came to the tomb, the EMPTY tomb, the angel who greets them says it all.

“He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.”

Just as he said. He knew—Jesus knew the power of the Father. He knew the reality, the life, that would be ours. He knew his ability to obey, to follow, to do what the Father had sent him to do.

Everything happened, just as he said it would. The resurrection means Jesus is true to His word. He promised to bring Life. It is done. He promised to bring us close to the Father. It is done. He promised hope and eternity, grace and forgiveness, freedom from the chains we wrap ourselves in. It is done. It is done. It is done.

For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ. And so through him the “Amen” is spoken by us to the glory of God.            2 Corinthians 1:20

 

Don’t miss it though. The angel doesn’t just tell them Jesus “told you so,” but also where they can see Him; where he can be found. Why? Because Jesus didn’t die on the cross and return to life just to say, “I told you so.” He did it so we might find Him. So we might connect with Him. It’s all about relationship. That’s what Life abundant is: a real and dynamic walking with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Life lived with the mysterious Creator, Lover God.

It’s the whole reason God put on the confining suit of flesh and descended into the slums of a world now dying; it’s the reason why the Word spoke no objection when he became a curse on a tree: so that we might live! So that we might know Him; so that we might walk in wholeness and freedom and Love.

 

As Ted Loder says, it’s “Resurrection Madness!” I say it’s the greatest madness the world will ever know. The madness of Love unstoppable. The Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world is no longer dead. He is alive!

This is the day, this is the morning, this is the time where we find all of Life’s hopes and promises fulfilled. Everything we yearn to be, everything we were created to be; the God we long to be with—it all finds place and reality in what we celebrate today. Because it is just as Jesus said.

Three days later he will rise.            Mark 10:34

judas

I deserve what is coming,

If the truth be told.

The Savior’s for sale,

And I’ve rendered Him sold

- Griffin House, Judas

 

 

Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.       Mark 14:10-11

 

Judas. If ever there as villain, this is the guy. Betrayal, dishonesty, greed—these are the words that we think of when we think of Judas. Or maybe those are too mild. Maybe the words we think of are words like despise, disgust, hate.

But not Jesus. Jesus does not despise, or hate, or treat him poorly. On the Thursday before the cross, the very night he would be betrayed, Jesus washes Judas’ feet. It’s easy to forget the fact that Judas was in the room when Jesus washed the disciple’s feet. (Maybe because it’s easier to think of him already off doing his deeds of darkness.)

Jesus never treats Judas poorly; he never completely calls him out. He does let Judas know that he knows and he does let the disciples know, in somewhat veiled terms, that he knows of a betrayer. But Jesus never treats him as we probably would. He treats him with love. He treats him with respect, acceptance and service—right to the very end. When Jesus told us to love our enemies, he apparently intended to practice what he preached.

 

But Judas is the guy we love to hate. It feels justified. It feels right. But if Jesus didn’t, why should we? I’m not saying we should be fans or admirers, or that we should excuse his behavior. But right to the end Judas found love and service from the Savior he would betray. This is true love for ones enemy—knowing they will do wrong and still treating them right.

Perhaps we love to despise Judas because it helps us feel justified when someone betrays us. Maybe we love to hate Judas because then we can see him as worse than us. Or maybe we just like to have something to hate.

Griffin House, in his song, Judas, paints the picture of Judas as a tortured soul. Obviously, Judas had regrets in the end. Such regrets that he was driven to take his own life. If anything we should have sorrow, not hate for him. We should pity him.

 

Thursday evening: the disciples were sharing a meal—the meal. The one where Jesus would identify himself as the lamb who would take a way the sins of the world. And here Jesus announces the reality of a betrayer.

While they were reclining at the table eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.”

 

They were saddened, and one by one they said to him, “Surely not I?”

 

“It is one of the Twelve,” he replied, “one who dips bread into the bowl with me.

Mark 14:18-20

 

Surely not I. We should all echo these words of the disciples. Instead of judging the actions of a betrayer like Judas, we should examine the actions of our own lives, with the sentiment of the other disciples: “Surely not I.”

The Savior is still for sale. And we can easily render him sold. It doesn’t take hatred for him, or outward actions that are obviously rebellious and wicked. Remember, Judas betrayed Jesus with an act of affection—with a kiss.

The cross is coming at the hands of the Betrayer. Instead of judging him and hating him, and feeling better than him, may we respond with the true disciples, “Surely not I Lord… surely not I.”

leading the way

They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him. “We are going up to Jerusalem,” he said, “and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise.”             Mark 10:32-34

 

Just before the Triumphal entry we find Jesus heading up to Jerusalem and already he is leading the way for his people. The disciples are astonished; the followers afraid. Why go to Jerusalem and all the dangers that wait in that city of religion now dead?! But that is exactly where Jesus is headed.

Jesus is leading the way. Not just to a city that holds potential dangers. He is leading the way in obedience. Leading the way in trust to the Father. Leading the way to Life. And just so no one misses the reality of where they are going Jesus makes it clear. He knows what waits for him.

He will be arrested. Condemned. Handed over. Mocked, spit on, flogged. And killed.

He also knows what waits for us. The last statement in his explanation is the greatest news we could ever be given. “Three days later he will rise.” Jesus is leading the way to life again. Life like it hasn’t been known since fruit was eaten in secret and nakedness discovered. Life like hasn’t been enjoyed since hiding became the response to a God coming near. Life like only two humans before ever knew. Life back from the dead. Life back from the beginning.

 

And Jesus is leading the way. He is bringing his people to this Life as he brings himself to the cross.

The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.   John 10:2-3

 

 

The cross is coming. This is Tuesday—it will be here Friday with all its death and defeat and oppression. And Jesus leads the way, willingly, for us.

 

And three days later he will rise.

he knows

Earlier this month I wrote on the sorrow of Jesus (you can find it here). But I am returning to these verses again because of the significance of the day. This is Palm Sunday. One week until Resurrection. 

 

Palm Sunday is filled with tension. The crowds love Jesus, the Pharisees hate him. The atmosphere is joyful, but Jesus is sorrowful. Why such contrast, such disconnect?

Jesus knows that the praise is fleeting. And I guess that’s what gets me. Jesus is going to the cross—willingly—for a bunch of fakes and frauds; for fair-weather friends and liars. The crowds are declaring Him Savior, but soon they’ll be crying “Crucify Him.” The disciples have never been bolder or more loyal, but soon they will scatter and deny.

Jesus looks on the crowds and their praise and he grieves:

As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes.     Luke 19:41-42

 

Our praise is so fleeting. We mean well, but live it out so poorly. Our trust and faith are solid, but only until our expectations go unmet.

And so Jesus enters Jerusalem to the sounds of worship, but he grieves because he knows. He knows his people; he knows us. We are broken and corrupt. We don’t stay true for long periods of time. We have far too much lust and impatience for our sacrificial king.

It reminds me of Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:

“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:  

 

‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ ”   Matthew 11:16-19

 

The Israelites didn’t like John the Baptist—he was too weird. They didn’t like Jesus—he partied too much.

We’re never happy for long. We have so many expectations and when Jesus doesn’t meet them exactly we wander off, lash out, accuse, complain or pout. And so on what we call Palm Sunday Jesus enters into Jerusalem to the roaring crowd of worshippers and followers and he grieves because he knows.

 

And yet, he goes to the cross willingly. Knowing how often we fail to see what will bring us peace. Knowing that we are wayward and consistently rebellious. Knowing we are without patience and with far too many expectations. And yet he goes willingly.

Jesus knows his people; he knows us. And yet he goes on toward the cross.

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.”