April 8, 2020 § 1 Comment
“the act of trust is an utterly ruthless act”
While sheltered in place, the Church worldwide celebrates Holy Week, when Jesus entered Jerusalem, was celebrated, betrayed, arrested, and crucified – and then resurrected.
Maundy Thursday is the night he met with the disciples and instituted the Lord’s Supper. It was in that Upper Room that Jesus gave his friends the new command, to love one another (John 13:34).
On Friday we are sobered – and blessed – by the crucifixion of Jesus. We call that day Good because it is. On the Cross, Jesus died in payment for the sins of the world. Our atonement was secured at Calvary. Jesus died as our Substitute.
Saturday is quiet. Along with Easter Egg hunts, the Church remembers it as the day Jesus lay in the grave. The grave would be where Jesus would leave our guilt, shame and sin.
And then, Sunday. Easter, when music and message are all aimed at the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus, and the hope we have in his conquest over sin and death. It is the celebration of celebrations.
Each day is dramatic and packed with meaning. But just 24-hours before events unfolded, the disciples moved through another day, oblivious to what was before them. I’m going to call it Clueless Wednesday, because that is what it was.
The fact is that we don’t know what God is doing with the world – with our worlds – in any given moment. We are clueless. I would argue that this is a good thing, because it is a childlike cluelessness. Even now, while we shelter in place, children delight in the moment, with danger as the furthest thing from their minds.
In hindsight we see events as they unfolded. Our past tense vision is 20/20, with the advantage of the whole picture. But until things happen, we have no idea what lies before. Like the disciples we move through the week, tending to responsibilities, enjoying friendships, caring for family, wrestling with life, temptation, weakness, and ambitions.
To know what lies before us in the immediate future is always tantalizing, but in reality, it would be disastrous, because the complexities of God’s unfolding redemptive plan would horrify us.
So, God never gives us more than what he is doing now. And, while for us we are clueless to the full meaning of the details of the immediate future, what matters is that Jesus knows what he is doing with the world – and with us.
What good news…
grace & peace.
April 19, 2014 § 1 Comment
Fred Harrell, Sr. Pastor, City Church San Francisco
In just a few hours our church grounds will be swarmed and traversed by hundreds of children in search of even more goodies that have been hidden in plain sight at our annual Easter Egg Hunt. It is one of the more delightful things we do during the Easter season at our church, and a sweet interlude in the reflective observance of Jesus’ death. It occurs on the day that commemorates Jesus’ last day in the tomb before the Resurrection, and I have to think that the joyful laughter of children is a fitting expression of our confidence that Jesus didn’t remain in the grave.
This past January our community was rocked by a senseless shooting at the mall from which I post this blog. Understandably the Zumiez store shut down. But I was glad to recently notice that they are undertaking whatever restoration work is needed to once again open their doors to the public.
Though I’m not quite certain what was going on in the grave on that day before the Resurrection, or the day before for that matter, I do know that it was good, and that there is something in the silence that is good for my soul.
In some way it is representative of our lives here on this still-injured planet as we await Jesus’ return. We are His, and we are redeemed, but we wait, trusting that His healing work continues, even when undetectable.
While the Cross insures that our sins have been paid for, and the Resurrection that our eternity is secure, it is the Grave that hits me where I am, every day in the struggle, and reminds me that I can hang in there.
I can hang in there through the adversity.
I can hang in there when I am weak.
I can hang in there when my sin drives me to fall before the Throne in sorrow.
I can hang in there when I am assaulted by doubt and unbelief.
I can hang in there even when I don’t want to hang in there.
“…he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us…” – Hosea 6:1a-2b
I can hang in there, that is, I can trust Him, because on that quiet day, Jesus lay in the Grave. But He didn’t stay there.
And this means that even God’s silence is saturated with healing properties that bear testimony to the fact that the Father delights in calling us His.
So I can hang in there. And so can you.
What good news…
March 30, 2013 § 3 Comments
As I write, hundreds of children (and their parents) fill a small play area and a larger lacrosse field in search of thousands of brightly colored plastic eggs that contain all kinds of treats and candy. It is a lovely day and this adds to the spectacle of joy – Children with painted faces (yes, we’re a full-service church) – Parents – Volunteers – Staff – all together, enjoying, taking pics, pointing out eggs, and sharing the moment. I love it.
It caused me to think. This is the day we know so little of. What was Jesus doing in that grave that Saturday between His burial and His resurrection? We have hints in the scriptures, but suffice it to say that regardless of the actual details, even in the grave Jesus was no victim. We know that the Father had not abandoned Him (Acts 2:27), which is undoubtedly why, in his monumental sermon on Pentecost, Peter quoted David’s prophetic cry – “You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.” (Acts 2:28, Psalm 16:11)
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb who is the great I AM;
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing:
While millions join the theme, I will sing.
I guess this is what those precious, loud, exuberant children bring to mind. By entering the grave, Jesus has begun to turn our cemeteries into playgrounds. The crazy thing is that if we had hidden the eggs among tombstones, the children would have been just as excited. Their world is that safe.
And because Jesus went to the grave, so is yours.