Journeying with Christ:
A Guide for Lent and
Holy Week
Presented by Justice Coalition
Cover Image:
“Good Friday” by dt.haase
ink with pen & brush
Who better in His ability to understand and share the feelings of others? The pen and ink
depiction of Christ was completed in one continual line as a means to convey the
continuous outworking of Christ’s sacrifice. The boldness of the ink painted cross is to
symbolize the piercing reality of our sin. Herein is our King of empathy and justice.
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Introduction
Welcome to the season of Lent. Throughout this season and Holy
Week, we hope that this guide can help in your walk (and our walk as
a community) with the Lord on the way to the cross. Professors,
staff, students, and Christians throughout history have contributed
to the following daily devotionals. We hope that the stories
presented here create a beautiful symphony of praise that joins with
scripture’s beautiful story of salvation. In order for this to happen, it
is essential that the following stories are read in light of the
scriptures listed with them. Each day, let the Spirit speak to you
through the words of the Bible and the words of the community
around you. May you be blessed by this book and may it help you
reflect, repent, and rejoice because of Christ’s suffering and final
victory. May that reflection and repentance be the tools of the Spirit
for shaping a more just life for you personally and for all of us in
this community, overflowing into the church at-large.
The Wheaton College Justice Coalition is a group of six student
clubs: A Rocha, Christian Feminists Club, International Justice
Mission, Plowshares, Student Global AIDS Campaign, and Voice for
Life. We seek to present a united vision and effort that pursues God’s
kingdom justice as an outworking of our faith. We seek to do this by
promoting critical thought that leads to the formation of just lives
both at Wheaton and beyond. Share your story with us. Join in life
together with us. Pray with us. Let us seek the Kingdom of God
together in community, with humility, in the power of the Spirit.
February
22
Ash Wednesday
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the season of Lent. It is a time of
repentance, reflection, fasting, and meditation on the temptations and
suffering of Christ. In some traditions, this day is marked with the
administration of the sign of a cross made from ashes on the foreheads of the participants
in Ash Wednesday services. These ashes serve as both a reminder of our mortality and our
penitence, each of which we ought to reflect upon during Lent.
Lord, who throughout these forty days
For us didst fast and pray,
Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins
And close by Thee to stay.
As Thou with Satan didst contend,
And didst the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin.
As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst,
So teach us, gracious Lord,
To die to self, and chiefly live
By Thy most holy Word.
And through these days of penitence,
And through Thy passiontide,
Yea, evermore in life and death,
Jesus, with us abide.
Abide with us, that so, this life
Of suffering over past,
An Easter of unending joy
We may attain at last.
Claudia Frances Ibotson Hernaman, 1873
Dust Raised Imperishable
1 Corinthians 15:48-49 (ESV)
February
23
“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
In reflecting on this phrase which is uttered during the administration of the ashes on
Ash Wednesday, I am reminded of the passage from 1 Corinthians 15:35-58. In it Paul is
unpacking what I consider to be some of the most important words in the New Testament
that Christians regularly need to be reminded of. During the Lenten season we stop and
reflect on the sacrifice of Christ and our own need for a Savior. We take time to reflect on
how we are so desperately lost in our own sin. Because of this, Christ came. He died, and he
rose again. In this series of events, the incarnate God is made available to us – the men of
dust - in a new way through the man of heaven. When Paul is writing to the church in
Corinth, he addresses their concerns about how the dead are raised. He shares with them
that we are perishable, but we will be raised imperishable. We are sown a natural body, but
raised a spiritual body. He looks back to the first Adam, the man formed from the earth out of dust in Genesis 3:19. But Paul points us to the man of heaven. It is through the
second man, Jesus of Nazareth – Immanuel, God incarnate, true God, begotten, not made that we are able to bear the image of the man of heaven. Without this we cannot inherit the
kingdom of God. It is good to remember that we are dust, and we shall return to dust. But it
is just as important to remember that we will be raised imperishable and we shall be
changed. That is the hope that we cling to.
Dr. William Struthers is an Associate Professor of Psychology, on faculty since 1999.
February
24
Rend Your Hearts
Joel 2:12-17 (TNIV)
The prophet Joel declares God’s invitation and the proper manner in
which we are to come before God: “Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the
Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love,
and he relents from sending calamity” (Joel 2:13, TNIV).
This Scripture is associated with Lent and frequently read on Ash Wednesday to mark
the beginning of the forty–day journey of preparation that leads to Easter. The prophet
realizes the human tendency to seek easy solutions to life’s problems. Rending one’s
garments was an external display of remorse or repentance. But Joel understood God’s
expectation that true repentance was a matter of the heart, and not just a surface display of
religion. Jesus reinforces the same importance of interiority or matters of the heart (see
Luke 6:43-45; Mark 7:5-13).
In my teaching I often draw upon the witness of Christians from across the centuries
of the church. This is especially true for my course on the Classics of Christian Devotion,
called Hungering for God. Recently I taught St. Benedict (480-547) and his famous Rule for
early monastic communities. Benedict makes the helpful connection that “The life of a
monk ought to be a continuous Lent” (Rule, chapter 49.1). According to Benedict, this can
be accomplished through spiritual practices and self-denial that can transform our focus
onto God and others rather than our self. Clearly one of the most foundational acts of
justice is love for our neighbor even as we love God. This again relates to Benedict’s Rule
when he admonishes communities that “all guests … are to be welcomed as Christ” (Rule,
ch. 53.1). Notice the strong connection between this Benedictine characteristic of
hospitality and Joel 2:13. By rending our hearts and not our garments we will be convicted
of our own tendencies to emphasize the superficial aspects of externals of comparison and
competition while neglecting the more significant and deeper issues of a person’s inner life.
Therefore, at the most basic level of our relationships within our own Christian
communities we can act justly with hospitality as we remember that God who is gracious
and compassionate to welcome us back has provided us with a model to follow, not only
during Lent but every day throughout the year.
Dr. Tom Schwanda is an Associate Professor of Christian Formation and Ministry, on
faculty since 2006.
God, Be Merciful to Me
God, be merciful to me,
On Thy grace I rest my plea;
Plenteous in compassion Thou,
Blot out my transgressions now;
Wash me, make me pure within,
Cleanse, O cleanse me from my sin.
My transgressions I confess,
Grief and guilt my soul oppress;
I have sinned against Thy grace
And provoked Thee to Thy face;
I confess Thy judgment just,
Speechless, I Thy mercy trust.
I am evil, born in sin;
Thou desirest truth within.
Thou alone my Savior art,
Teach Thy wisdom to my heart;
Make me pure, Thy grace bestow,
Wash me whiter than the snow.
Broken, humbled to the dust
By Thy wrath and judgment just,
Let my contrite heart rejoice
And in gladness hear Thy voice;
From my sins O hide Thy face,
Blot them out in boundless grace.
Gracious God, my heart renew,
Make my spirit right and true;
Cast me not away from Thee,
Let Thy Spirit dwell in me;
Thy salvation’s joy impart,
Steadfast make my willing heart.
Sinners then shall learn from me
And return, O God, to Thee;
Savior, all my guilt remove,
And my tongue shall sing Thy love;
Touch my silent lips, O Lord,
And my mouth shall praise accord.
Anonymous, from The Psalter, 1912
February
25
February
26
The First Sunday in Lent
Matthew 4:1-11 (NASB)
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by
the devil. And after He had fasted forty days and forty nights, He then became hungry. And
the tempter came and said to Him, “If You are the Son of God, command that these stones
become bread.” But He answered and said, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live on bread alone,
but on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’”
Then the devil took Him into the holy city and had Him stand on the pinnacle of the
temple, and said to Him, “If You are the Son of God, throw Yourself down; for it is written,
‘He will command his angels concerning you’; and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so
that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’”
Jesus said to him, “On the other hand, it is written, ‘You shall not put the Lord your
God to the test.’”
Again, the devil took Him to a very high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms
of the world and their glory; and he said to Him, “All these things I will give You, if You
fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall
worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’” Then the devil left Him; and behold,
angels came and began to minister to Him.
The One Whom Jesus Loved
Matthew 4:1-11, John 13:23
February
27
Is being beloved enough?
What would it mean if that question guided our practice of Lent? During this season,
we remember the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11). Jesus did not
spend that time fasting to lose weight, break a bad habit, or become committed to a positive
discipline. Rather, during a time when he was famished and alone, He experienced the
power of being the Beloved. It was enough.
In the book of John, John describes himself several times as “the disciple whom Jesus
loved” (see John 19:26, John 20:2, John 21;7, and John 21:20). His identity was not primarily
in his occupation or his family history, but based in the fact he was loved by Jesus.
As we
celebrate Lent, what might we sacrifice that hinders us from adopting a similar identity?
The Wheaton College community seeks to follow Christ and serve God. Many make
earnest commitments to be a part of what God is doing in the world, and are willing to be
used by Him as He desires. Yet often this identity is about what we do (however noble)
instead of our relationship with the Father and what God has done for us.
In my work with HNGR, it has been exciting to see the ways that students experience
the power of simply being with God and other people. What they do takes on less
importance than the relationships they have with God and the community around them.
Like many, I have a desire to do, one that is often greater than my desire to be. I
notice this in the ‘wasteful’ moments with my daughters. Too frequently, I have thoughts
of what I should be doing. My prayer this season is that you and I might more fully embrace
an identity as one whom Jesus loves, and hunger more to simply be a part of His beloved
community.
Dr. Amy Reynolds is an Assistant Professor of Sociology, on faculty since 2010.
February
28
Weakness Conquering Power
Luke 4:5-8 (ESV)
We are a people plagued by a thirst for power. Nietzsche believed this “will
to power” was the primary catalyst for all actions in humankind—to reach for the heights,
to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and make something of ourselves. This is your
graduation speech, our forefathers' mantra, the American Dream. We don't ignore this in
our community either. We call it 'Biblical excellence', we call it 'redeeming culture'--we name
it in a way that deemphasizes the negative connotations that come along with the idea. But
they still lie at the heart of it. Certainly these things aren't entirely bad, and there is a
Biblical basis for them. However, with the season of Lent being a time of repentance and
self-denial, it is important that we are self-critical of the assumptions that lie behind our
actions both individually and corporately.
By reflecting on this temptation of Christ, we are able to see how He related to the
idea of power through Satan's offers. Jesus knows this struggle intimately, and we can lean
on the words of St. Gregory of Nazianzus that affirm “What has not been assumed has not
been healed”. The devil promises him all authority in exchange for worship, which presents
a clear lesson—we must not hand our loyalty to Satan regardless of the rewards that lie
behind it. But is Christ's rejection of this offer only because it comes from Satan, or should
it reveal something more about our proper relationship to power? With Christ as the full
revelation of God, we see that His example of power is not what any of us expect—it looks a
lot like weakness. He condescends, He suffers, He dies humiliated on a criminal's tree. This
is not a success story. But it is through this weakness that Jesus conquers over the powers
of sin and death and reconciles a wayward humanity to God and to one another.
It is vital that we remember this as we seek to establish our role in the fallen world
around us. We should not be totally removed from the culture and institutions surrounding
us, but rather seek to redeem them through the power of the Gospel. But let us not twist
this mission into a thinly-veiled quest for our own power that so often becomes the goal of
Christians in the secular sphere. We must always measure our ideas of power next to the
power made manifest in Christ—a life of self-emptying, of kenosis, of a weakness that is
more powerful than death.
Austin Wilson is a sophomore student and a member of Plowshares.
Have Thine Own Way, Lord!
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.
Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.
Adelaide Addison Pollard, 1907
February
29
March
1
Rejoicing in Lent
Hebrews 4:15-16, 5:8-10 (NRSV)
Lent is often viewed as a very sad and somber time in the church calendar,
with fasting, meditation on Christ’s sacrifice, no “alleluia” in worship, and so on. While this
reflective tone and focus on sacrifice and self-denial is a beautiful and much-needed part of
the church’s life, it is also good to remember where Lent is going. We celebrate these forty
days in remembrance of Jesus’ temptation in the desert and in preparation for Holy Week.
How do these two connect? It is in Holy Week that the temptation is overcome, that victory
is won over all sin, evil, and death through the power of Jesus’ submission to death, even
death on a cross. Therefore, let us rejoice! Lent is not the end of the road, darkness is not
our fate, but joy is coming with the morning! We have hope because victory is won!
The story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness bears clear parallels to the trials of
Israel in the wilderness. They spent forty years facing the temptation of disobedience and
grumbling against God, always failing. But Jesus, the Messiah and representative of Israel,
in his forty days of temptation, won victory, obeying and submitting himself to God where
Israel had failed. Satan presented ways of being Messiah and King that would have had
Jesus use his power for his own interest, but instead, Jesus did nothing out of his own
interest, but was obedient. He rejected these misuses of power in favor of victory through
obedient submission to death for the sake of others, bringing the world into right
relationship. Jesus fulfills Israel’s covenant commission to be obedient to God and blazes a
path for the new Israel, the church, a path of submission to God.
Because of Jesus’ victory over temptation, we have hope. Jesus defeated Satan,
overcoming his temptations and being faithful to his mission that would free us from
Satan’s snares. Now we are free to rely on the victory already won and overcome
temptation by the grace of God. But this does not lead to freedom for our own sake. It
leads to freedom that we must use in humble obedience, laying down our now free lives for
the sake of others, and following in the path that Jesus has set before us. This is what
justice looks like: right relationship through self-denial and sacrifice for others.
Zach Stallard is a junior student and part of the Justice Coalition cabinet.
Loving Our Enemies
Matthew 5:43, Luke 23:34 (NIV)
March
2
In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love
your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those
who persecute you” (Matt. 5:43). From the cross, our Lord said, “Father, forgive them, for
they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34).
What Jesus taught, Jesus lived. In a world of pain and injustice, it is a formidable
challenge to embrace Jesus’ teaching and example in loving our enemies. Loving God,
loving neighbor, and loving fellow believers are notions easily affirmed. But loving our
enemies? You’ve got to be kidding.
We all know what Jesus has taught, what he has done, and what he requires. But how
do we do it? How can we do it? How can we put into practice what is so often beyond our
natural, human inclination? How can we love our enemies? How can we forgive those who
have sinned against God, against us, and against others?
Our reluctance is understandable. Should sin go unpunished? “If you do the crime,
you do the time”—that sounds fair and equitable. Can we seek justice and practice love and
forgiveness at the same time? Are justice and love mutually exclusive categories?
G. K. Chesterton addresses this in his book, Orthodoxy, in a chapter entitled, “The
Paradoxes of Christianity.” Chesterton writes: “Christianity . . . divided the crime from the
criminal. The criminal we must forgive unto seventy times seven. The crime we must not
forgive at all” (Harold Shaw Publishers, 1994, p. 101). I think that’s helpful. Sin is always
sin, not to be excused or ignored. So when we forgive, we do not simply close our eyes to
horrific deeds and hope they will never happen again. Penalty and restitution can be
accompanied by love and forgiveness. Love and forgiveness do not reject justice; love and
forgiveness reject bitterness and revenge.
Real-life examples of this level of Christ-following are all too rare. One sparkling
exception continues today through the Iraqi Christians of St. George’s Church, Baghdad.
There, in the midst of persecution and heartache, a church is modeling to the world the
teaching and example of Jesus in loving and forgiving their enemies. Thank God for their
rare courage in following Jesus.
Dr. Stephen Kellough is Chaplain of Wheaton College, now in his 23rd year.
March
3
Amazing Grace!
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed!
Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
John Newton, 1779
The Second Sunday in Lent
Mark 8:27-38 (NLT)
March
4
Jesus and his disciples left Galilee and went up to the villages near Caesarea Philippi.
As they were walking along, he asked them, “Who do people say I am?”
“Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you
are one of the other prophets.”
Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?”
Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.”
But Jesus warned them not to tell anyone about him.
Then Jesus began to tell them that the Son of Man must suffer many terrible things
and be rejected by the elders, the leading priests, and the teachers of religious law. He
would be killed, but three days later he would rise from the dead. As he talked about this
openly with his disciples, Peter took him aside and began to reprimand him for saying such
things.
Jesus turned around and looked at his disciples, then reprimanded Peter. “Get away
from me, Satan!” he said. “You are seeing things merely from a human point of view, not
from God’s.”
Then, calling the crowd to join his disciples, he said, “If any of you wants to be my
follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. If you
try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for
the sake of the Good News, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole
world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul? If anyone is
ashamed of me and my message in these adulterous and sinful days, the Son of Man will be
ashamed of that person when he returns in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”
March
5
Scripture and the Forgotten
Matthew 25:31-46 (RSV)
The first place I heard Matthew 25 presented as a word of hope was
Lawndale Community Church, an inner-city ministry in West Side Chicago. I had spent much
of my church life in communities of relative privilege, where Jesus’ words before the sheep
and the goats typically prompt confusion and guilt. Does the difference between heaven and
hell hang on whether I volunteer at a homeless shelter? I do not know anyone who has gone
to jail – whom would I even visit? And is Jesus suggesting salvation comes through works?
This Sunday was different. Almost every phrase of the reading prompted a smattering
of sober grunts and celebratory outbursts. “Amen.” “Hallelujah.” “Yes.” I looked across the
sanctuary for the source of enthusiasm. There sat a cluster of approximately fifty men, all
wearing the same blue shirts with the same white, two-word insignia: “Hope House.”
Hope House is Lawndale’s residential addiction recovery ministry. For six intense
months, participants undergo a rigorous twelve-step program consisting of Bible study,
prayer, job training, and a strict commitment to reject substance abuse. Each Sunday, they
also attend both worship services. In a neighborhood where seventy percent of men have
experienced prison at some point in their lives, this particular community received Jesus’
words as a personal message of encouragement: “Jesus will judge others based on how they
treat me.”
Despite our commitment to Scripture and the gospel, evangelicals have often failed to
hear such readings, or to take seriously the inaugural words of Jesus’ ministry. Was Jesus
anointed to preach good news to the poor, as Luke writes, or just the poor in spirit? Did he
proclaim release for captives, or just captives of sin? Scripture assists the faithful preaching
of the gospel, but we risk misinterpreting the Word of God when we do not identify with the
least of these, for this was the very mission of Christ.
On the Day of Judgment, the Son of man will come in glory. For the first coming, he
chose humility instead. As we proceed through the Lenten season, let us reflect upon the
self-emptying love of Christ that we may rejoice with those the world has forgotten. Then
we will receive the inheritance prepared for us from the foundation of the world.
Dr. Gregory Lee is an Assistant Professor of Theology, on faculty since 2011.
Finishing the Darkness
“… Jesus said, “It is finished,” and bowing his head he gave up his
spirit.” -John 19:30
March
6
Good and evil are moral opposites, defined, as John’s letters tell us, by God himself.
“God is light” (1 John 1:5) and “God is love” (1 John 4:16) declare that God himself defines
what is good and right. Sin, which is the opposite of love, expresses the darkness of the
absence of God in every instance of injustice, in every evil decision.
When the Word became flesh, God’s righteous presence entered the world to call
people out of the darkness (John 1:9; 8:12; 9:5). Followers of Jesus Christ are called to walk
in the light as he is in the light by living every moment and making every decision
motivated by love and justice as God defines it.
These scriptures make it clear that evil is not a philosophical abstraction that is “out
there” somewhere, but that evil resides in the human heart, sometimes deeply and
stubbornly rooted. Even things done sincerely in the name of Jesus Christ have often been
done in ways contrary to the law of love that God has revealed. The dualities that John
teaches between light and darkness, good and evil, are hard to overlay on a world that all
too often looks gray.
God dealt decisively with evil when Jesus was crucified on what strangely has come to
be called “Good” Friday. On the night when Jesus was betrayed, John tells us that Judas
went out “and it was night” (John 13:30). Judas went out into the darkness. There is no
mistaking that the One who created all things came to his own, but because of the darkness
in the human heart, he was not recognized for who he was, and was rejected to the point of
being executed. The charge brought against Jesus was the claim he was the Messiah and
Son of God. Ironically, Jesus was executed, not in spite of being the Son of God, but because
he was the Son of God. In the greatest act of injustice ever committed, Jesus was executed
for being who in truth he was. How paradoxical that God’s greatest act of good was
simultaneous with humankind’s greatest act of evil! Because of the cross, even the greatest
acts of evil and injustice cannot thwart God’s ability to conquer evil with good. Only God
can separate the two.
Yes, in the end of all things, the sheep will be separated from the goats, the thorns
from the wheat, and there will be no more darkness. But the world into which Jesus came,
and in which we continue to live, is a murky gray. In this Lenten season, our crucified Lord
calls us to shine his light into every moment, every act, every decision of our lives, and then
to trust God as we walk in the light.
Dr. Karen H. Jobes is a Professor of New Testament Greek and Exegesis, on faculty since
2005.
March
7
Journeying toward Life
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may
have life, and have it abundantly.” —John 10:10
The journey of Christ to the cross that we remember during Lent is a powerful
reminder of life, death, and hope in Christ. A friend of mine, the late theologian Rev. Daniel
Hardy, approached his own journey from life to death with such hope. Dan had been
diagnosed with an especially aggressive form of brain cancer that made both he and his
family aware of the limited time he had left. In his final book, Wording a Radiance (2010),
Dan shared a series of conversations on life and death that speak quite powerfully to us
during this season:
“I’ve been content ever since the onset of this cancer to be drawn into death, but I
don’t take this negatively at all: it is also being drawn into life and the two are closely
tied together . . . Perhaps I’m being a sort of sign of attraction, going ahead of you
into the mystery, an attraction not into anything clear and unambiguous but into a
light that is the mystery of death and life, and therein God. It is the fulfillment of my
priestly vocation.” (p. 128)
Dan’s words point to the work of Christ in the journey to Jerusalem in a most
profound way. Christ’s journey towards death was a sign for all of us of what it means to
live faithfully before God. He was drawn into death—his eyes were set on the work before
him. In following the steps of Christ’s journey, we find that moving towards the cross is
neither the end of life, nor only a kind of stealing and destruction associated with a thief (as
in John 10:10). Rather, movement towards the cross and death is also a sign of new life and
new creation.
How do we make sense of these conflicting principles? The cross was a symbol of
shame. Death promises only loss and ruin. But God’s identification with shame has
transformed the entire situation. We now share in the life-giving work, give glimpses of
God’s redemptive power, and participate in Christ’s “vocation” in this broken world.
Father, in this journey of life and death, so lead us into your light that our lives may be
signs of attraction, drawing this broken world to you. Amen.
Dr. Jeffrey W. Barbeau is an Associate Professor of Theology, on faculty since 2008.
Suffering Together
Romans 3:22-23 (NIV)
March
8
Any discussion about AIDS inevitably becomes very weighty as people try to
understand and explain the damning epidemic. Some say it’s a judgment from God and
others believe that people with AIDS don’t deserve sympathy because their suffering is a
result of sexual sin. AIDS is one prominent example of a situation in which, as Christians,
we struggle to separate the sin from the sinner. As followers and image-bearers of Jesus
Christ, we need to carefully avoid judgment and always come back to the important
recognition of the reality of this fallen world. In this way, we can become brothers and
sisters that struggle together with those afflicted by AIDS and realize the need to pray
collectively in confession of all of our sins. For it is said in Romans 3:22-23, “This
righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no
difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (NIV). Instead of
separating people with AIDS as them let us recognize that all of us are sinners and that this
entire world and every person in it need prayer.
An African Hymn (10th century)
The cross is the hope of Christians
the cross is the resurrection of the dead
the cross is the way of the lost
the cross is the savior of the lost
the cross is the staff of the lame
the cross is the guide of the blind
the cross is the strength of the weak
the cross is the doctor of the sick
the cross is the aim of the priests
the cross is the hope of the hopeless
the cross is the freedom of the slaves
the cross is the power of the kings
the cross is the water of the seeds
the cross is the consolation of the bondmen
the cross is the source of those who seek water
the cross is the cloth of the naked.
We thank you, Father, for the cross.
Lauren Kim is a sophomore student and President of Student Global AIDS Campaign.
March
9
Let Thy Blood in Mercy Poured
Let Thy blood in mercy poured,
Let Thy gracious body broken,
Be to me, O gracious Lord,
Of Thy boundless love the token.
Thou didst give Thyself for me,
Now I give myself to Thee.
Thou didst die that I might live;
Blessèd Lord, Thou cam’st to save me:
All that love of God could give
Jesus by His sorrows gave me.
By the thorns that crowned Thy brow,
By the spear wound and the nailing,
By the pain and death, I now
Claim, O Christ, Thy love unfailing.
Wilt Thou own the gift I bring?
All my penitence I give Thee;
Thou art my exalted King,
Of Thy matchless love forgive me.
Greek Hymn, anonymous, translated by John Brownlie, 1907
What to Leave Out,
What to Put In
March
10
Philippians 3:13-14
The great American architect and native of nearby Oak Park, Frank Lloyd Wright, said
"To know what to leave out and what to put in; just where and just how, ah, that is to have
been educated in knowledge of simplicity -- toward ultimate freedom of expression." What to leave out and what to put in. Knowing the difference is immensely
important, and is essential to accomplishing what you set out to do. If this is true in
architecture and other arts, it is also essential in writing academic papers. During the
editing phase of a paper, it’s usually best to prune and trim than to pad with more verbiage.
But how do we judge that one thing should be left out and something else put in? There’s
no hard and fast rule, but the basic idea is to keep foremost in mind what we are trying to
express. Does this get us closer to what we want to accomplish, or is it a distraction?
What to leave out, what to put in. The apostle Paul found this to be an essential
principle in the spiritual life. He had his eye on the prize of the upward call of God in
Christ Jesus, and found he didn’t have interest, time, or energy for lesser things. He forgot
what lay behind, including his own achievements and awards.
Living an effective life for God means that we focus on the goal, cutting out anything
that might distract us or slow us down. How am I using my time? In what am I investing
my talents and energy? In cutting out the distractions and inessentials, we may well find
that we have been making our own luxury and entertainment a high priority. Resources
devoted to spoiling ourselves could be put to kingdom uses in meeting the basic needs of
others.
What to leave out, what to put in.
Heavenly Father, in you we live and move and have our being: We humbly pray you so
to guide and govern us by your Holy Spirit, that in all the cares and occupations of our life we
may not forget you, but may remember that we are ever walking in your sight; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.
Dr. David Fletcher is an Associate Professor of Philosophy, on faculty since 1981.
March
11
The Third Sunday in Lent
John 4:5-30 (NLT)
Eventually he came to the Samaritan village of Sychar, near the field that
Jacob gave to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there; and Jesus, tired from the long walk,
sat wearily beside the well about noontime. Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water,
and Jesus said to her, “Please give me a drink.” He was alone at the time because his
disciples had gone into the village to buy some food.
The woman was surprised, for Jews refuse to have anything to do with Samaritans. She
said to Jesus, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a
drink?”
Jesus replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to,
you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”
“But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket,” she said, “and this well is very deep. Where
would you get this living water? And besides, do you think you’re greater than our ancestor
Jacob, who gave us this well? How can you offer better water than he and his sons and his
animals enjoyed?”
Jesus replied, “Anyone who drinks this water will soon become thirsty again. But those
who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring
within them, giving them eternal life.”
“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I
won’t have to come here to get water.”
“Go and get your husband,” Jesus told her.
“I don’t have a husband,” the woman replied.
Jesus said, “You’re right! You don’t have a husband— for you have had five husbands,
and you aren’t even married to the man you’re living with now. You certainly spoke the
truth!”
“Sir,” the woman said, “you must be a prophet. So tell me, why is it that you Jews insist
that Jerusalem is the only place of worship, while we Samaritans claim it is here at Mount
Gerizim, where our ancestors worshiped?”
Jesus replied, “Believe me, dear woman, the time is coming when it will no longer matter
whether you worship the Father on this mountain or in Jerusalem. You Samaritans know
very little about the one you worship, while we Jews know all about him, for salvation
comes through the Jews. But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when true
worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth. The Father is looking for those
who will worship him that way. For God is Spirit, so those who worship him must worship
in spirit and in truth.”
The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he
comes, he will explain everything to us.”
Then Jesus told her, “I AM the Messiah!”
Just then his disciples came back. They were shocked to find him talking to a woman, but
none of them had the nerve to ask, “What do you want with her?” or “Why are you talking to
her?” The woman left her water jar beside the well and ran back to the village, telling
everyone, “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did! Could he possibly be the
Messiah?” So the people came streaming from the village to see him.
Members of a Recovery Group
Romans 5:8
March
12
Have you ever noticed how everyone in the Bible could have introduced himself, or
herself, in some kind of recovery group? Imagine it:
"Hi. My name is Abraham. I am a coward and a liar. I would tell a lie to put my wife's
life at risk in order to save my own skin". "Hi. We are Isaac and Rebecca and we're
dysfunctional parents". "Hi. My name is Jacob and I'm a cheater and a scoundrel". "Hi. My
name is Aaron. I'm a religious leader; but I cave in to peer pressure”. "Hi. My name is
Miriam. I’m jealous of my little brother Moses and I’m a racist; I’m upset about his interracial marriage”. "Hi. My name is Moses and I’m a hot-head and a murderer”. "Hi. My name is
Naomi and I am bitter”. "Hi. My name is Samson and I struggle with lust”. "Hi. My name is
David. I am an adulterer and a murderer”. "Hi. My name is Elijah and I struggle with
depression”. "Hi. My name is Thomas. I struggle with doubts”. "Hi. My name is Mary
Magdalene and I’m a prostitute”. "Hi. My name is Peter and I let down my best friend when
he needed me most”. "Hi. My name is Timothy. I struggle with paralyzing fears and
insecurities”. "Hi. My name is Paul. I am a Christian killer and I am very difficult to work
with”.
As I observe these heroes of the faith, I see that each one was flawed and yet each did
significant Kingdom work. I do not believe that they were rewarded for the flaws; nor do I
believe that their flaws were unrelated to the good that occurred in their lives. The flaws
became grace places; places of that form of humility, which is a synonym for honesty. Each
came to acknowledge, in progressively deeper ways, a need for God’s love and mercy. For
each, in his or her specific need, God made the resources of His love available. So too, He
loves us with a love that is not conditioned by our performance. In Francis Thompson’s
poem “The Hound of Heaven” the hound, representing God, asks a man fleeing from Him, a
man whose life is spent in dissipation, “Human love demands human meriting; how hast
thou merited? Of all man’s dingiest clay thou art the dingiest clot. Alas, thou knowest not
how unworthy of love thou art. Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee, save me? Save
only me. Rise, clasp my hand and come....” The words are very powerful. God’s love is not
conditioned by performance. Perhaps all the individuals listed above went on to accomplish
their greatest work after their hour of crisis because each understood more deeply than he
or she might have otherwise known that God’s love was deeper, richer, wider, and mightier
than they ever could have imagined. Easter reminds us how far God’s love will go.
Dr. Jerry Root is an Associate Professor, the Assistant Director of the Billy Graham Institute
for Strategic Evangelism, and the Director of the Wheaton Evangelism Institute, on faculty
since 1996. He is also an advisor for Voice for Life.
March
13
Who Are We Eating With?
Luke 14:12-24
This passage may seem odd right now, since Lent is a season of fasting,
not feasting. Fasting is a practice that focuses our attention on what we eat and why we eat.
Fasting forces us take seriously our consumption. This passage asks a different question
about eating. It asks about who we eat with.
Jesus was not always a well-behaved guest at parties. In Luke 14, he spends a lot of
time critiquing what he sees. Jesus’ criticism stems from his conviction that our parties here
and now ought to be a foretaste of God’s ultimate party in the New Creation. Meals—both in
Jesus’ day and ours—reveal social structures and relationships. At this party, everything
benefitted the host. By inviting the wealthy and powerful, this Pharisee was setting himself
up for repayment. He surrounded himself with the people he wanted to be like and benefit
from.
We do this too. It may be subtle, but consider how eager you are to catch lunch with
someone who is socially interesting—witty, good looking, well-connected. Think of how
difficult is to find time to eat with those who are socially taxing—awkward, needy, boring.
Most of us spend a lot of time with people like us. When was the last time you ate with
someone of another cultural background?
Friendship is a justice issue. Social capital and economic capital are linked. Relational
poverty is behind most other forms of poverty. There is often more transformational power
in sitting down at a table with someone—looking into their eyes, hearing their story, asking
them to pass the bread—than there is in short term service or monetary donations.
As Christians, we engage in these relationships in hope. We look to the day when
Jesus will invite us all to his banquet. At that table, those who preferred their rich neighbors
will be conspicuously absent. If you do not want to sit down with the “poor, the crippled,
the lame, and the blind,” you may feel out of place at Jesus’ feast. Jesus criticizes the host
because the reward he seeks is shortsighted. He is getting in with the wrong people—those
who are currently rich. In the Kingdom, it is the presently marginalized who will be ushered
to the table.
This Lent, ask yourself, who would Jesus eat with?
Clayton Keenon is a 2005 alumnus and has been the coordinator of Discipleship Small
Groups and Grad Chapel since 2010.
The Dangerous Will of God
Matthew 22:37-39
March
14
I think we too often make the will of God a complex and mysterious thing. In reality,
God has already made his will for us perfectly clear: we are to love the Lord our God with all
our heart and with all our soul and with all our strength and with all our mind, and love our
neighbors as ourselves. If we wake up each morning and ask ourselves how we might fulfill
these two commandments—Lord, how might I love you and love others today, in these
specific situations, with these people that I will interact with, with whatever I am called to do,
with whatever unknown circumstances meet me in the hours ahead?—I think the will of God
for our lives might become less esoteric.
And yet if we prayerfully ask these questions of ourselves each day, it might also be a
bit unsettling—at least, it was for me. These two questions often lead us to probe deeper: to
ask what would be the best way to love a friend struggling with depression, or to ask if the
way we care for our bodies is honoring God, or to ask if the coffee we drink was produced
in a manner that does not exploit others. Prayerfully asking how we might love God and
neighbor often simply reveals our own failure at the end of the day. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “No
man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.”
But perhaps this recognition of failure is a necessary stance—particularly during this
Lenten season, a yearly period of time that serves as a reminder of our fleshly and messy
humanity, our mortality, and our weakness. For it is often in this humble state that the Lord
reveals himself to us and that we are given fresh grace to try again, to keep pursuing love of
God and love of humankind, even while we acknowledge our own weakness. In his poem on
Lent, George Herbert reminds us of this:
"It's true, we cannot reach Christ's forti'eth day;
Yet to go part of that religious way,
Is better than to rest:
We cannot reach our Saviour's purity;
Yet we are bid, 'Be holy ev'n as he,'
In both let's do our best."
Jessina Leonard is a sophomore student and a member of Plowshares, IJM, and Growers
First.
March
15
Imitating Humility
Phil 2:1-11 (NIV)
“Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God
something to be used to his own advantage” (2:6, NIV)
Lent is about focusing our hearts and minds on Jesus Christ. It is a period of selfexamination, confession and prayer that looks ahead to the great events of Good Friday and
Easter. Paul’s summary of the gospel in Philippians 2 narrates the drama of Christ’s
incarnation, cross, resurrection and ascension, and does so for a very practical reason: to
show us how Christ’s life provides us with the exemplary model of human life. What is
unmistakable in Paul’s rendering is that the story of Jesus shows us that humility is the
premiere Christian virtue. Paul’s simplest, clearest summary of the gospel identifies Jesus’
self-emptying and self-humbling as the turning point of the entire story. From this he draws
a clear and powerful lesson for our spiritual and moral lives. We are meant to be imitators
of Jesus’ humility. Yet if we are honest, we stumble over our pride and “vain conceit” (v 3)
every day.
This remarkable text tells us that Jesus gave up his divine prerogatives and became
not only a mere human being, but chose to become a lowly servant, since he “did not count
equality with God something to be used to his own advantage” (v 6). He did not use his
unique divine status, power, or authority for his own self-gain, but gave himself entirely, out
of generosity and love, to others. Too often, in our unchecked pride we use our relative
advantages of status, power or authority to make ourselves look good, to keep others at a
distance, or to achieve our own narrow, self-serving goals. Yet the example of Jesus is that
self-emptying humility is the starting point if we wish to live an others-oriented life which
values “others above yourselves” and does not look to one’s interests but to the interests of
others (v 4).
The spiritual challenges of this text are profound. Can we sincerely say that we value
others above ourselves? Are we regularly putting the interests of others ahead of our own
interests? Are we selflessly using our resources for the benefit of others around us?
Dr. Jeffrey Greenman is a Professor of Christian Ethics and the Associate Dean of Biblical
and Theological Studies, on faculty since 2005.
March
She Hugs Me
Psalm 49:7-8, 15.
“The hands, the dirty hands, grab at my heart and
pull.
I feel like pulling away, like smacking the dirty
hands away and running.
But then I make eye contact with the eyes that
belong to the dirty hands
And it's my sister.
She tells me nothing, she just hugs me.
But I cannot breathe.
Because my sister's hug, her dance, her cooking,
and her nervous laugh
tell two stories.
One is the story of a little ballerina, free to pick the
flowers, free to jump into her dad's arms.
Another is a story of her left alone in the field,
where even the trees scream "WHORE!"
My sister's hug, with her dirty hands, is suffocating.
Her hands pull at my heart and it hurts.
But if I smack her hands away and run, in order to
breathe as easily as I did before, then I
reject her hug.
And I will have to run forever to forget her tears.
If I stay in her soft embrace,
Then I have to accept her two stories. Two stories
that don't make sense.
16
Even if I never forget her
tears? Even if I
forever hear the
accusations?
Even if my heart never beats quiet the same again?
Heavy, I look again at the field,
But this time I see someone. Someone else standing
in the field.
At him, the trees are screaming, "WHORE!"
but he is silent.
"WORTHLESS, WRETCH!" they cry.
But he doesn't answer.
instead, he cries.
Confused, I look at my sister,
But she cannot see him in the field.
And she cannot see the hands.
Because the hands, the dirty hands, that are pulling
me into the field are not hers.
They are his.
And these hands, these dirty hands bidding me
into the field, they plead with me:
If you stay, if you endure the loneliness of the field
with her, then she will see.
Then she will see me here.
The hands promise me it will hurt.
The hands promise to embrace us both.
If I continue to love the one I see as the precious
dancer in the pink dress,
then I have to accept that the dirty hands who
touched her
will pull me apart too.
I gasp for air.
I go with her.
Can I stand in the field with her, with my ballerina,
while the trees scream
"WHORE!"?
how marvelous, how wonderful, as my song will
ever be
how marvelous, how wonderful is my savior's love
for me.”
And I see that the hands are not dirty.
They are scarred.
One of my closest friends participated in HNGR this fall, and she worked at a restoration house for
young women coming out of a number of broken situations. Her stories and accounts deeply shook my life
from thousands of miles away as she described scenes of poignant beauty and pain, brokenness and
restoration, sometimes within the same snapshot. These images she described are images I am often afraid to
look at, the images I don't know what to do with. Yet they are there, and Jesus wants us to look. He wants us
to not only look, but to enter in. And it is his hands which do the restorative work.
Pam Rahman is a senior student and a Student Chaplain.
March
17
For the Least of These
Matthew 25:40
“To distance ourselves from the active condemnation of abortion, whether
intentionally or not, is to distance ourselves from Christ.” –Michael Spielman
Jesus’ earthly ministry was full of acts of mercy towards the very lowest levels of
society. Women, children, Samaritans, lepers. These were the people society marginalized,
these were the oppressed and the dehumanized, yet Jesus made a point to care for them,
whether or not those around him understood the importance of those lives.
Not only did Jesus associate with the oppressed, he identified with them as well. In
the parable of the sheep and the goats (Matt 25:40), Jesus tells his disciples that an act of
kindness done for “the least of these,” that is, someone we may not consider worth helping,
is equivalent to an act of kindness to Jesus himself.
Who does our society scorn and devalue the way these people had been in Jesus’ day?
Who are the “least of these” for us? Yes, the poor, the starving, the ill and the exploited are
in need of help, and yes, Jesus would have helped them. But surely the very least of these
today are the ones that much of society refuses to even see as people, and who lose their
lives because of their lowliness. The unborn face injustice on a horrific scale, and as
followers of Jesus who want be like him, it is our mandate to protect and care for them.
What we do for the least of these, we do for Jesus.
Lord, have mercy on our nation. Forgive the sins we have committed against the most
vulnerable of your children, and open the eyes and hearts of the people to see the truth of
their value. Help us to spread grace and truth as we seek to care for those affected by the
tragedy of abortion. Amen.
Holly Meath is a junior student and President of Voice for Life.
The Fourth Sunday in Lent
John 9:1-17, 35-41 (ESV)
March
18
As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi,
who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “It was not
that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.
We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one
can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” Having said these
things, he spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man's
eyes with the mud and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So
he went and washed and came back seeing.
The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar were saying, “Is this
not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is he.” Others said, “No, but he is like
him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” So they said to him, “Then how were your eyes
opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud and anointed my eyes and said to
me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to
him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a
Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. So the Pharisees again asked
him how he had received his sight. And he said to them, “He put mud on my eyes, and I
washed, and I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not
keep the Sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner do such signs?” And
there was a division among them. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say
about him, since he has opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”
Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and having found him he said, “Do you
believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?”
Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you.” He said, “Lord, I
believe,” and he worshiped him. Jesus said, “For judgment I came into this world, that those
who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near
him heard these things, and said to him, “Are we also blind?” Jesus said to them, “If you
were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains.
March
19
Bracing Mercy
Hebrews 11
“I feel deeply wounded. Yet, I forget at times that anything happened to me
until a song, a passage in a book, or even the seemingly innocuous feeling of the sun on my
face brings me back to the pain, brings me back to memories. Memories of Dad calling me
while I was at Saga for dinner, and finding out that on the same day that we celebrated
Mercy’s birth we would also begin to mourn her impending death. The joyous day of a
child’s birth should never be graced with news that the child is going to die.”
I wrote those words right around this time last year. How could a loving and merciful
God allow my beautiful niece to die before she ever had a chance to live? The seven days we
had with her were too brief, too momentary, for us to get to know her. Grief, in those days,
seemed to be my constant companion. That grief gave me a new understanding of the
immense pain in the world.
I tire of waiting. I tire of waiting for the peace and reconciliation that God has
promised again and again will one day be fully realized. This world is filled with its share of
sorrows and pain that seem to have no achievable end. I am not denying the presence of joy
in this life, but sometimes I wonder if the joy is overshadowed by the pain.
Yet repeatedly in the Bible we are promised a sweet resolution, a change in
perspective that will cause us to regard the afflictions of this earth as momentary. One of
the most palpable representations of this hope throughout biblical history is found in the
book of Hebrews. Shivers run down my spine and goosebumps cover my arms every time I
allow myself to reflect on it. I am humbled when I read the outline of the mothers and
fathers of our faith who waited their entire lives in anticipation of the fulfillment of
promises that God would honor for future generations. Their lives were spent in a
prolonged state of expectancy which was never met, and they still believed that God would
fulfill His promises. Their faith was the assurance of things hoped for, not things seen.
Abraham was promised that his offspring would become more numerous than the
stars, yet he only lived to see his son Isaac born. Just as Abraham believed, I too need to
trust that one day God will wipe away every tear, and avenge those who have been
harmed. The patriarchs in the book of Hebrews had to believe that though they would not
see results, God was at work in their midst. A quote from Teilhard de Chardin, a French
Jesuit priest, comes to mind “Above all, trust in the slow work of God.” God gave the
patriarchs a promise about a future that would not be their own, and they still delighted in
him. God’s work may be slow, but it is work that will be accomplished, and I must learn to
root my faith in that promise.
Sally Mindrebo is a sophomore student and part of the Justice Coalition Cabinet.
From Patronage to Philanthropia:
Lessons from Lazarus and the
Rich Man (Part 1)
March
20
Luke 16:14-31
As the year 388 dawned in the Syrian city of Antioch, St. John Chrysostom took the
opportunity to preach a series of sermons on Luke 16:14-31, the parable of Lazarus and the
rich man. Following the biblical narrative, Chrysostom juxtaposes the luxury of the one and
the poverty of the other, the life of self-indulgence (the true unrighteousness in this story)
against the life of patient suffering. Chrysostom is very careful to note that there was
nothing intrinsically evil or unrighteous or vile in wealth itself, or righteous and good in
poverty, as such. He is very careful not to trivialize one or vulgarize the other. On the
contrary, he insists that both states are neutral—one is not a sign of divine favor, nor the
other of divine punishment: “Let us learn from this man not to call the rich fortunate nor
the poor unfortunate. Rather, if we are to tell the truth, the rich man is not the one who has
collected many possessions but the one who needs few possessions; and the poor man is
not the one who has no possessions but the one who has many desires.”
This trope of irony is not a jubilant eschatological moment of social reversal or a call
for the overthrow of social order. Chrysostom neither lingers voyeuristically on the
suffering of Lazarus nor delights in the plight of the rich man. On the contrary, St. John
anticipates the objection: “Why should the rich man suffer such a terrible fate? What is his
crime? Did he do something evil to Lazarus? Did he steal from him? Did he oppress,
punish, or abuse him? Is he condemned only because he is rich, or is God a respecter of
persons, for Abraham, too, was a wealthy man?” All these objections, argues Chrysostom,
miss the point of the story: “Indeed Lazarus suffered no injustice from the rich man; for the
rich man did not take Lazarus’ money,” but his offense was much greater: it was the crime
of indifference. For though he did not take Lazarus’ money, the rich man failed to share his
own. “See the man and his works,” declares St. John, “indeed this too is theft, not to share
one’s possessions.”
Dr. George Kalantzis is an Associate Professor of Theology and the Director of the Center
for Early Christian Studies, on faculty since 2007.
March
21
From Patronage to Philanthropia:
Lessons from Lazarus and the
Rich Man (Part 2)
Luke 16:14-31
Like Israel of old, each of us, individually, as well as a community, the Church is called to be
stewards—the image Chrysostom uses is that of the imperial oikonomos, the household steward—of
God’s wealth, God’s provisions, and to distribute it to those in need: “For our money is the Lord’s,
however we may have gathered it…This is why God has allowed you to have more: not for you to
waste on drink, fancy food, expensive clothes, and all the other kinds of indolence, but for you to
distribute to those in need,” without distinction or limitations.
But we do not live in fourth-century Antioch. Bracketed by utopian dreams of the kingdom
on earth, on the one hand, and apocalyptic nightmares of the eschaton, on the other, we find
ourselves in unrelenting flux, accepting without question that space and time in modern life are not
so structured as to orient us to the end of Christ. Yet, our lives are routinely oriented. Not by
ominous or phantasmagoric eccentricities, but by commodities of satisfaction and self-indulgence
(religious as well as economic), by indolence, always oriented on the axis of the fundamental
distinction of “us” and “them.” We are not that much different from the rich man in the story. His
life, St. John tells us, was also oriented by indifference. The preacher invites us to see the daily
routine of this man; to see him stepping over the threshold of his courtyard where the suppliant
Lazarus would lay incapable of uttering the customary words to entreat for the alms that never
came, to go to the marketplace, even perhaps the Temple to offer sacrifices for his sins, to put his
alms in the box of the poor and come back to his home, after a day full of social and religious
observance to walk past Lazarus once more and enter his house “clean” and “satisfied,” ready for
another lavish banquet, “communion” with his friends. His orientation was one of not simply
indifference, but a self-referential, blind indifference. The rich man, Chrysostom argues in these
homilies, is not simply a heuristic device—he is us.
Our own lives are oriented by the same axes of patronage and guided by the same
expectations of reciprocity, as is manifested by our own ambivalence towards the poor. Only now we
do not call it “patronage,” we call it “care.” How often is the “get-your-self-up-by-your-bootstraps,”
“worthy” poor privileged over the “hopeless” and “unproductive,” who is looked upon with
contempt? And though exceptions are sometimes made for the mentally ill, even ecclesial
institutions will be deeply affected by these wisps of “worthiness” and “unworthiness” (we usually
frame the discussion in terms of “most profitable use of limited resources”), and not by the
language of “gift,” “grace,” and “abundance.”
St. John’s prescription for the care of the poor springs out of the latter, rather than the
former. He exhorts us to give without the imposition of limitations on those who receive. He notes
that Abraham did not ask an account of the strangers’ life when he was visited near the great trees
of Mamre, nor did he require them to change their ways but “he simply welcomed all who were
passing by. For if you wish to show kindness, you must not require an accounting of a person’s life,
but merely correct his poverty and fill his need.” And he concludes, “The almsgiver is a harbor for
those in necessity: a harbor receives all who have encountered shipwreck, and frees them from
danger; whether they are bad or good or whatever they are who are in danger, it escorts them into
its own shelter. So you likewise, when you see on earth the man who has encountered the shipwreck
of poverty, do not judge him, do not seek an account of his life, but free him from his misfortune.”
This is the idiosyncratic Christian move from “reciprocity” to “gift” and from “patronage” to
philanthropia.
Dr. George Kalantzis is an Associate Professor of Theology and the Director of the Center for Early
Christian Studies, on faculty since 2007.
“I Sanctify Myself”
John 17:19
March
22
"For their sakes, I sanctify Myself" (John 17:19). These six words are part of Jesus's
prayer in the 17th chapter of John. John's gospel is remarkable in that it includes whole
chapters of information about a single incident, such as the woman at the well in chapter 4
or the man born blind in chapter 9. We have an extended treatment in chapters 14 to 16 of
Jesus's last teachings to the disciples before His death, followed by an entire chapter of His
prayer to the Father.
So much of the life of Jesus was given for the sake of others. Someone may ask us
what we plan to give up for lent this year. Jesus says that we should give up ourselves. He
sanctified Himself for our sakes. Though He was the Son of God, He "emptied Himself"
(Philippians 2:7). He "lay down His life for the sheep" (John 10:15). He came, "not to be
ministered unto, but to minister" (Mark 10:45). He sets Himself to be holy, that we might
have the possibility to be holy also. "That we may share His holiness" (Hebrews 12:10) is
how the writer of Hebrews puts it.
The example of Jesus encourages us to emulate Him by sanctifying ourselves for the
sakeof others. Do we have any idea what this might mean? Everything in our culture
encourages selfishness and self-gratification. Jesus encourages us to practice self-denial so
that we can be a"vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master" (II Timothy 2:21). It may
be one thing for us to sanctify ourselves for the sake of family members and friends. Does
this extend to thosewe don't know personally—the poor and persecuted, those enslaved by
wicked men and women? What boundaries did Jesus put on the distribution of His love?
This is a hard saying, but we are not expected to do this in our own strength. And
God'sprinciple is that whatever we sacrifice in this life by emptying ourselves of our own
desires, wewill receive a hundred fold in the life to come. So "strengthen the hands that are
weak and theknees that are feeble" (Hebrews 12:12). Will we repeat after Jesus, "For their
sakes, I sanctify myself?”
Dr. Robert Brabenec is a Professor of Mathematics, on faculty since 1964 and is the faculty
advisor for Wheaton International Justice Mission.
March
23
Epaphroditus: The Patron Saint of
Risk-takers
Philippians 2:25-30 (NASB)
Some years ago, my daughter became as sick as a dog. Soon after, she was diagnosed
with Hepatitis A. She contracted the disease in our church nursery while caring for a child
who was a carrier. My daughter was not scheduled to be in the nursery that day. She
voluntarily traded places with a parent so that she could be upstairs to hear the guest
speaker. In essence, my daughter became ill in the service of Christ.
As I think back to this, my daughter reminds me of a person in the New Testament
who would have been a perfect role model for her. His name is Epaphroditus, and his story
is found in Philippians 2:25-30.
Epaphroditus, a member of the church in Philippi, was sent to Rome to minister to
Paul who was in prison there (4:18). Either in Rome or on his way there, Epaphroditus
became critically ill. We don’t know, exactly what his illness was. Perhaps he became run
down during the long journey between Philippi and Rome, or maybe he fell prey to a disease
while passing through a disease-infested region.
Whatever the cause, the illness was serious. He became, as Paul graphically says in
the original Greek, “a next door neighbor to death” (2:27). But more important, whatever
the illness, it was contracted “for the work of Christ” (2:30). Ephaphroditus recognized a
need, responded to the need, and became sick and nearly died on behalf of that need. And
in doing this, he was taking up his cross and following Christ, who similarly laid his life on
the line for others (see 2:8). It’s no wonder that Paul, as he sends Epaphroditus back to his
home church, exhorts the Philippians to receive and honor him.
That Epaphroditus would come to mind as I thought of my daughter, who similarly
became ill in the line of Christian duty, is no surprise. Yet his risk-taking love is an example
for all believers to follow. So, if I may ask—what risks are you presently taking to meet the
spiritual, physical, and emotional needs of those around you? What regions or
neighborhoods are you walking through in the service of Christ? Are you willing to go out
on a limb, placing your health and even your life on the line to serve others? If so, you are
not only following in the footsteps of Epaphroditus, a man who was honored by the early
church for his commitment. You are following in the steps of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose
sacrifice we especially recall during this Lenten season.
Dr. Chris A. Vlachos is an Adjunct Assistant Professor of New Testament and the
administrator of Wheaton’s Ph.D program, on faculty since 2007.
More than Conquerors
Romans 8:37-40
March
24
Consider atrocities. Every day people walk freely when their victims have no earthly
justice. All have sinned, all fall short, and our relationships are broken. Still, some of us
come from remarkably intact and functional backgrounds.
Do you feel safe every day? Most of the time?
Many of us have never experienced the trauma, horror, or shame of sexual
abuse. Maybe that is one reason why it is taboo to speak of such things in many Christian
circles. We would rather leave shadowy things in the shadows.
“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it
would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be
drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of the things that cause people to
stumble! Such things must come, but woe to the person through whom they come!” (Matthew
18:6-7 NIV)
I truly, deeply believe that in many cases, there is no real justice to be had on earth—
but I do believe in justice. We are all equals standing before a searingly holy Lord. At the
end of the day, I find I can choose to trust and obey the God I find revealed in the Bible.
People with scars are a lot of things: dangerous, resilient, even fearless.
Awakened. Survivors. Not victims.
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I
am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor
the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be
able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:37-40
NIV)
Stories are for telling. I have come to believe that some stories are for everyone and
some only for a few. Suppose a wrongly-convicted person is exonerated after years of
imprisonment. It happens more often than you think. The lucky ones get money from the
state; no one gets their time back. Can we claim a promise of restoration? Restoration not
merely to autonomy, but founded on the twin anchors of Truth and Love?
“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.” (Joel 2:25 NIV)
Let us remember the prisoners. People society happily forgets.
“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32 NIV)
Let’s turn the telescope away from our neighbors’ dirty windows and focus in on our
own broken glasses. Justice begins with truth. Love in our lives brings freedom.
Julia Kaiser is a senior student and part of the Justice Coalition cabinet.
March
25
The Fifth Sunday in Lent
John 11:17-45 (NRSV)
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb
four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews
had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that
Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus,
“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God
will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise
again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last
day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even
though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you
believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God,
the one coming into the world.” When she had said this, she went back and called her sister
Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.”And when she
heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but
was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house,
consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought
that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw
him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not
have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was
greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They
said to him, “Lord, come and see.”Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved
him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have
kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a
cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister
of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four
days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of
God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you
for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of
the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said
this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands
and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them,
“Unbind him, and let him go.”
Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did,
believed in him.
Wait for the Lord!
Luke 18:1-8
March
26
Prayer can be exhausting. I try to pray silently and my thoughts wander. I write out
prayers and my hand begins to cramp. I pray aloud, but I fear others will hear. I struggle to
immerse my body, my mind, and my emotions in prayer to an invisible, silent God.
Although I am one of the elect, my prayers are not uttered day and night, but intermittently
and inconsistently. Too often they are not intercessions for my neighbor but selfish pleas
for God’s attention.
We may fail to pray as we should, but God is the best possible recipient of our
prayers. He is more interested than our professors, more understanding than our
roommates, and more loving than our parents. If corrupt politicians like the one in Luke 18
can be nagged into doing justice, imagine what God will do if we ask!
These verses imply that if we are indeed God’s elect we would be crying out to him
day and night. That God would come racing to our sides with speedy justice. Often I think
that God is withholding something I deserve when I can’t hear his response. It is easy to
forget that though his replies are speedy, he also gives us the opportunity to wait on him.
He wants us to choose to put our hope in him. Psalm 27:14 reminds us of this: “Wait for the
Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
Today, pray for a specific justice issue whose resolution will require waiting. Pray for
a problem whose answer may not be found in your lifetime: the easy resettlement of
refugees in Wheaton, an end to human trafficking, victory in the war against HIV/AIDS, a
stop to the LRA’s reign of terror in central Africa. Pray knowing that God will deliver justice
in response to the prayers of his faithful followers.
Rachel Topazian is a sophomore student and part of the Justice Coalition cabinet.
March
27
Suffering God-ward
John 19:25-27
The novel 1984 caused me to sink into the familiar depths of doubt and
uncertainty, not about whether there was a god, but whether he was good. Suffering takes
on a huge role in this story as the protagonist, Winston Smith, is tortured for his rebellion
against Big Brother and The Party. Chillingly, the point of the torture is not ultimately to
elicit information or even as punishment but to form him into the kind of person The Party
wants him to be, to make him love Big Brother and The Party. This use of suffering as
formative hit too close to home and made me start brooding over whether God was just
some despot, an uncaring tyrant allowing suffering for his own ends with no thought to our
ultimate good.
I began to find more solid ground underfoot as I recognized the different ways I can
respond to suffering when I’m in the midst of it, or more precisely, how different responses
move me in different directions. It seems like there is a God-less suffering and a God-ward
suffering. God-less suffering is ultimately moving away from God and toward myself—it
contracts my world and my vision so only my needs and desires are important. God-ward
suffering is suffering that opens me up to God, present in the midst of it, and to others—to
love others, to care for others, to see others’ suffering more clearly and compassionately
because of my own. I do not love a God distant from my suffering, a Big Brother aloof and
disconnected, but a God who has entered into suffering and redefined it.
That is what is so striking about Jesus on the cross. In this passage, though torn,
bloody, humiliated, exhausted, and suffocating incrementally with every attempted breath,
he looks with tenderness on his mother and provides for her needs in the midst of his
suffering. Jesus exemplifies perfectly the movement toward God and others—not after
brokenness has been healed and I can stand whole and hope-filled to testify to God’s
goodness—but despite the fact that it is unresolved. I often tell myself I have a right to turn
inward, giving into self-pity, and go into survival mode to the exclusion of others, but this
is, in fact, not my right. The question I face is the same as that posed by the book of Job—
not why is this happening to me? but will I be faithful in the midst of this?
Will my stress, anxiety, depression, anger, hurt, disappointment, disillusionment,
doubt, despair, sickness, injury, persecution, self-pity be the reason I turn from others, or
the very vehicle by which I am carried towards others and ultimately toward the Good God
who has himself walked the road of suffering and in the midst of it looked out with
tenderness upon his mother, looked out with tenderness and gazed through the centuries at
me and said, “Yes, I will be faithful and provide for my own.”?
Dan Taylor is the Residence Director of Fischer Hall.
March
The Promise of Hope
28
Romans 8:22-25
Christ’s resurrection inaugurates the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. It
also inaugurates the Kingdom of God in us, whose sin-rotted bodies are granted a future
and a hope in the Body of the resurrected Christ. Yet despite this, we still need to pray
“Your Kingdom come.”
We learn this pretty young. This afternoon, my six-year-old daughter and I were
talking about God’s power over and care for the earth. She cupped an imaginary globe in
her marker-stained fingers and said, “if God’s got the whole world in his hands, he will take
care of it so nothing bad can happen, right?” Parental theological challenge #587. But that’s
what we long for—for God’s power and glory and justice to triumph. That longing is why
both our world and our persistently sinful bodies seem so contradictory and troubling.
Yet this dissatisfaction, Paul tells us, is precisely the condition of hope. Because of the
difference between these sinful bodies and the coming resurrected bodies, the difference
between “nothing bad can happen,” and the often inconceivable trouble in our world, we
long for Christ and seek the power of His promise.
And, gloriously, that longing and seeking, when expressed in prayer and action, make
hope something we can be a part of. Theologian Jürgen Moltmann writes in a must-read
book The Theology of Hope, that “hope’s statements of promise . . . must stand in
contradiction to the reality which can at present be experienced. They do not result from
experiences, but are the condition for the possibility of new experiences. They do not seek
to illuminate the reality which exists, but . . . to lead existing reality towards the promised
and hoped-for transformation” (18). God’s promise to us—our hope—is made visible in the
resurrected body of Jesus on Easter. It is something that transforms us as we long for it,
and which can renew the ruins of our world, and glorify even our sin-scarred carcasses. My
two favorite poems by Lucille Clifton, an African-American poet, illustrate this long longing
and the glorious glory of Christ our hope.
god send easter
spring song
and we will lace the
jungle on
and step out
brilliant as birds
against the concrete country
feathers waving as we
dance toward jesus
sun reflecting mango
and apple as we
glory in our skin
the green of Jesus
is breaking the ground
and the sweet
smell of delicious Jesus
is opening the house and
the dance of Jesus music
has hold of the air and
the world is turning
in the body of Jesus and
the future is possible
Dr. Tiffany Eberle Kriner is an Associate Professor of English, on faculty since 2005.
March
29
Awake, O Sleeper
Ephesians 5:13-16
Several years ago I found myself in the hospital. The night before, after
watching a movie with some friends, an intense headache began. The smallest amount of
light caused me to feel nauseous and by the time we reached home I needed help getting
from the car into my bed. I woke early in the morning and knew something was seriously
wrong. I could not stand without throwing up and my head pounded with unbearable pain.
I was rushed to the ER.
After several tests it was discovered that I had spinal meningitis. I spent the next five
days in a hospital bed unable to raise my head to more than a thirty-degree angle without
intense pressure and pain building. People came and prayed for me. One person even sang
over me a song they said the Lord had given them. I was comforted, yet in pain. I could not
eat. I could not read. I was alone with my thoughts.
One afternoon, I began to wax philosophical to myself, wondering aloud what the
common human experience was. My first thought was love. Love was a common human
experience. Upon sitting with this however, I realized there are many in this world that are
born and will see the grave without love; they may never know a gentle touch or a kind
word. I began to think about those who live in tragedy daily and whose life experience is
defined by abuse, disease, injustice, and brokenness. It dawned on me: the common human
experience is suffering.
And then, there in that hospital bed, I realized experientially why the cross matters.
Jesus, who took the sorrow of the world upon him, says come and lay your burdens down.
This is why Jesus is so appealing and his love so compelling. He gave life that we might
have life. I realized too that the cross is not the end of the story, for there is an empty
tomb. A resurrected Savior who takes away all the sin of the world and in its place offers
life: an invitation to be awake in a dark world offering redemption and the power of His
Spirit within us.
These days are indeed evil and filled with brokenness. But we have the light of
Christ—a burning light that warms as well as refines. A light wherein darkness flees and
hope is made visible.
Daniel T. Haase is the Internship Coordinator of the Christian Formation and Ministry
Department, on faculty since 2003, and is married to Kat Haase, the Residence Director of
Smith-Traber Hall.
Perfect Love Casts Out Fear: The
Antidote to Pride
March
30
1 John 4:18
I love C. S. Lewis’s work. But there is a point where I disagree with him. In Mere
Christianity he wrote that he thought pride was the greatest sin. I disagree. Pride is certainly
bad; and, perhaps we can legitimately say it is at the apex of all sin. But an apex, like that in
a pyramid, is always supported by that which is much more substantive at its base. In other
words, pride is at the end of a process. When I think about this, wondering what precedes
pride, I come up with words like insecurity or fear. In pride, or pretense, the tendency is to
make myself look better than I am because I fear if folks really and truly knew me as I am
they might reject me. In this sense, fear precedes pride. And this fear is often insipid in
most human subcultures; perhaps because it is so deeply imbedded in our fallen sense of
self. If we marginalized the strugglers in our midst with words like “Out of fellowship,”
“Carnal,” and “Backslider,” though nobody would say it explicitly, implied in this is the
expectation that everyone should be perfect in our subculture. Since nobody is perfect, this
false expectation breeds pretense. Everybody goes about trying to make themselves look
better than they actually are. This behavior is so contrary to real life that it seeks to be
rationalized and validated and can only do so pharisaically. The community moves into
grace-denying constructs as pride is the pretense masking fear and insecurity.
The Bible says that the antidote to fear is the love of God. “Perfect love casts out fear”
(1 John 4:18). I think a corollary to this is that imperfect love breeds anxiety. None of us has
ever been loved perfectly by anybody. Each of us is saddled with the burden of anxiety by
well meaning folks who loved us as well as they might but were incapable of loving us
perfectly. Of course it gets worse, nobody we’ve ever loved has been loved perfectly by us as
well; we have burdened others with the anxiety of our well intended but deficient love. Only
God, who fully knows us, can love us thoroughly with the transformative love that casts out
fear. So, if my analogy is correct, and pride is at the apex of the pyramid, than the greatest
sin at the very base of the pyramid is to neglect the love of God in our lives. We will turn to
anything in His place and these things always leave us empty after a time. Yet still, He
comes to us with incarnate grace in our darkest hours to restore us to his love. The true
Kingdom of God is made up of broken men and women mended by the love and mercy of
God. In this Lenten season we can reflect anew on His great love for us.
Dr. Jerry Root is an Associate Professor, the Assistant Director of the Billy Graham Institute
for Strategic Evangelism, and the Director of the Wheaton Evangelism Institute, on faculty
since 1996. He is also an advisor for Voice for Life.
March
31
Patient Obedience
Matthew 27:39-44 (ESV)
In an insightful treatment of the person and mission of Jesus, Hans Urs
von Balthsar identifies patience as the “basic constituent of Christianity.” According to
Balthasar, Jesus’ “perfection is his obedience, which does not anticipate.” Jesus is the one
who is led and does not overreach. And as such, those who are called to be his disciples
must take up a life of patient obedience, alert in awaiting the leading of God.
This focus on Jesus’ patience is especially relevant for Lent, which of course is a time of
waiting, following, expectation, and anticipation. Patience should mark us as we make our
way to Holy Week and the arrest, trial, scourging, crucifixion, burial, and resurrection of
Jesus. As we reflect on the road that Jesus walked towards the cross we cannot help but see
that he quickly and intensely became one who was acted upon–he was handed over by
Judas, put on trial, subject to mocking and beating, nailed to a cross, and placed in a tomb.
Finally, he was raised from the dead. Jesus’ apparent powerlessness becomes, in fact, the
way of our salvation. Jesus obediently followed the leading of his Father, and he patiently
endured the action of others, all for the sake of humanity and the world’s salvation.
Jesus’ patience is seen throughout his life and ministry. It is most evident as he hangs
dying on the cross and bears the mocking of others. “And those who passed by derided
him, wagging their heads and saying, ‘You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in
three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.’ So also the
chief priests, with the scribes and elders, mocked him, saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot
save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will
believe him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, ‘I am
the Son of God.’’ And the robbers who were crucified with him also reviled him in the same
way” (Matthew 27:39-44). Jesus’ patience in the face of mocking and derision leads not to
failure and disgrace, but to victory. It is precisely because Jesus patiently refuses to save
himself that his death accomplishes the salvation of others–the salvation of the world.
Lent ought to be a time when we realize clearly that we are followers of Jesus from a
distance. We observe the way of Jesus and attend to the leading of the Holy Spirit, who sets
us on our own patient path of following Jesus and his call.
Dr. David Lauber is an Associate Professor of Theology, on faculty since 2000.
Palm Sunday
Matthew 21:6-14 (GNT)
April
1
So the disciples went and did what Jesus had told them to do: they brought the
donkey and the colt, threw their cloaks over them, and Jesus got on. A large crowd of
people spread their cloaks on the road while others cut branches from the trees and spread
them on the road. The crowds walking in front of Jesus and those walking behind began to
shout, “Praise to David's Son! God bless him who comes in the name of the Lord! Praise be
to God!”
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was thrown into an uproar. “Who is
he?” the people asked. “This is the prophet Jesus, from Nazareth in Galilee, the crowds
answered.”
Jesus went into the Temple and drove out all those who were buying and selling
there. He overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the stools of those who sold
pigeons, and said to them, “It is written in the Scriptures that God said, ‘My Temple will be
called a house of prayer. But you are making it a hideout for thieves!’”
The blind and the crippled came to him in the Temple, and he healed them.
Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang;
Through pillared court and temple the lovely anthem rang.
To Jesus, who had blessed them close folded to His breast,
The children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.
From Olivet they followed mid an exultant crowd,
The victor palm branch waving, and chanting clear and loud.
The Lord of men and angels rode on in lowly state,
Nor scorned that little children should on His bidding wait.
“Hosanna in the highest!” that ancient song we sing,
For Christ is our Redeemer, the Lord of heaven our King.
O may we ever praise Him with heart and life and voice,
And in His blissful presence eternally rejoice!
Jeanette Threlfall, 1873
April
2
Can You Drink the Cup I Drink?
Mark 10: 35-45
James and John had discovered an opportunity. This man, this Messiah,
really was something. Baffled Pharisees. Deferential centurions. Jesus was going to make
things different than the way it was before. James and John could feel it. So they asked for a
seat at Jesus’ right and left. A natural request. When Jesus asked them what they wanted,
the Sons of Zebedee were not going to pass this up.
Jesus responded flatly. “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup I
drink?”
On his march to Jerusalem, Jesus was coming to terms with what was before him. The
cup was the cross, and the cross was death. Clearly, James and John did not understand
this. Otherwise, they would not have answered so quickly and certainly, “We can.” Jesus
must have looked into their eyes and through to their future. Yes, the Sons of Zebedee were
going to suffer.
“You will drink the cup I drink,” Jesus promised, “but to sit at my right and left is not
for me to grant.” After all, the whole request missed the point. “Jesus called them together
and said, ‘You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them,
and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you.’”
Later, the disciples broke bread and drank from the cup. Did they know what they
were doing? Did they understand what they had gotten themselves into by doing this with
Jesus? No more power. No more glory. They were now associated with the Crucified.
I see myself sitting with those foolish disciples. Did I fathom the significance of the
decision when I first took the cup? What have I gotten myself into? Am I now in a position
to recognize that I cannot lay claim to power, that “exercising authority,” as appealing as it
appears to me, seems to contradict following Jesus?
I doubt that I really can grasp what all this means. Communion can usually seem rather
normal. Goosebumps rarely come. Yet it always reminds me of my new covenant. No more
power. No more prestige. But, yes, I will drink that cup of suffering.
Adam Sawyer is a senior student and a member of Plowshares.
Seeing is Believing?
John 20:29, Luke 24:13-35 (ESV)
April
3
An old adage says, seeing is believing. But Jesus ushered in an eternal
kingdom where believing is seeing.
When we meet Jesus’ disciples on the Emmaus Road, they are downtrodden precisely because
they believed that seeing is believing. Jesus was dead, but He had performed mighty deeds and
talked big talk. And seeing that He was gone, they believed that there was little hope.
The faithful report of Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of God that the Lord was not in
the tomb for he “had risen as he said”, was not enough to placate their doubt. They had palatial
plans for what life after Calvary would and would not look like. Thus, when they went to see for
themselves, “he is not here, he has risen seemed to them an idle tale” (Luke 24:6). Perhaps they had
visions of Jesus at the helm of a megachurch, feeding 5,000 from a few loaves and fish each
Sabbath. Perhaps they thought that prosperity gospel would be their reward for marauding around
in the ragamuffin band that was Jesus’ crew. Whatever the case, Jesus wasn’t there. The empty
tomb confirmed the temporal theory that seeing is believing—no Jesus, no resurrection.
Back to the Emmaus Road where the disciples are cussing and discussing their dismal
fortunes, when they meet a stranger who inquires about all the fuss. They sarcastically apprise the
clueless man, who clearly doesn’t take the New York Times or watch CNN, about the death of the
good prophet. In doing so, they reveal just how intently they believed that Jesus should have been
their ticket to political redemption and religious fame—“…we had hoped that he was the one to
redeem Israel” (Luke 24:21). And herein they also reveal that they had bought wholesale the lie that
seeing is believing since they didn’t believe the women’s report, but had to go verify the empty tomb
on their own! Of course, upon seeing it with their own eyes and then hearing the stranger in their
midst (Jesus) expound the Scriptures concerning His very own resurrection, they still did not believe.
Despite their unbelief, it is clear that the disciples had learned a thing or two from Jesus.
While they couldn’t see Jesus on the Emmaus Road, they did see a stranger, to whom they extended
hospitality. They begged the stranger to continue on with them, to sup with them, and to lodge with
them. Hospitality requires seeing. It is a hallmark of belief. Believing, the disciples saw a stranger
created in God’s image, and welcomed this vulnerable traveler into their home—entertaining Jesus
unaware.
The remarkable thing about what happens next is easily dismissed, but is necessary to grasp
the significance of one momentous moment at one presumably brief meal. “When he was at the
table with them, he took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes
were opened, and they recognized him and he vanished from their sight” (Luke 24:30-31).
Believing, the disciples finally saw the Jesus who had walked the Emmaus Road with them,
transforming their post-Golgotha world from one of utter hopelessness where seeing is believing to
one of eternal hope where believing is seeing.
We must locate ourselves on the Emmaus Road and in the meal that follows. The disciples
encounter with Jesus models two things for those whose lives are hid with Christ in God:
1) The Eucharistic meal—where believing is seeing Jesus Christ as we feast on His body and
blood and where our hearts burn within us due to the reality that “the Lord has risen indeed”
(Luke 24:34).
2) The table of hospitality—where in the breaking of bread we invite others to have their eyes
opened to see Jesus, just as the disciples did; and where seeing and believing the words of
our Lord, the first is last and the last is first.
Believing is seeing people and the world through the eyes of Christ. Jesus saw the widow and
the wealthy, the prodigal and the Pharisee, the immigrant and the indigenous, the Samaritan and the
Saint. Who and what do your eyes of faith see? Believing is seeing.
Dr. Larycia Hawkins is an Assistant Professor of Political Science, on faculty since 2007.
April
4
The Worst Disease
Matthew 28:20
One autumn afternoon in 2008, I watched one of the sweetest women I
have ever known cry her heart out on my front porch. My family tried to hold back our
tears—we wanted so badly to be strong for her—but our hearts melted when she finally
drove away. Moolah, a refugee from a Karen village in Burma, had been working for my
family since we moved to Northern Thailand nearly three years before. After escaping from
Burma in the 1980s, Moolah and her husband lived in a refugee camp for nearly twenty
years before leaving to find work. But that day, she had to go back. Her husband had gotten
word that it would soon be their turn to immigrate to the United States, and they had to be
present at the camp when their name was called. As we said our goodbyes, she told us that
even though we were only able to communicate through Thai (a language which neither she
nor my family spoke fluently), we were some of her closest friends.
That’s when I realized that refugees must be some of the loneliest people in the
world. They leave everything they know behind to live in a country they can’t really call
their own, surrounded by people who will never truly understand them. As Mother Teresa
once said, “Of all the diseases I have known, loneliness is the worst.”
Christ, too, knew loneliness. One of his closest friends, Judas Iscariot, betrayed him
for a few pieces of silver. The rest of Christ’s disciples scattered at the time of his greatest
sorrow. In the last moments before his death, Jesus even felt abandoned by God, crying out,
“Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Join me in thanking God for understanding our loneliness and praying for those in
our community and around the world who are currently struggling with this terrible
‘disease’.
Dear God,
Thank you for stepping into our world so that we can know that You have felt what we feel.
We lift up the refugees around the world—and even here in Wheaton—who don’t have a place
to call home or friends to call their own. Give us opportunities to be friends to the lonely.
Comfort those on this campus who are struggling with loneliness. Teach us to care for the
interests of others and help us to notice those in need. Thank you, Father, that though we all
feel alone at times, You have promised that You will never leave us nor forsake us.
Amen
Audrey Smith is a sophomore student and part of the Justice Coalition cabinet.
Holy Thursday
Mark 14:22-50 (ESV)
April
5
And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to
them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks
he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. And he said to them, “This is my blood of the
covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly, I say to you, I will not drink again of the
fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”
And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. And Jesus
said to them, “You will all fall away, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the
sheep will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” Peter said
to him, “Even though they all fall away, I will not.” And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you,
this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” But he said
emphatically, “If I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And they all said the same.
And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And he said to his disciples, “Sit here
while I pray.” And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly
distressed and troubled. And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.
Remain here and watch.” And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if
it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are
possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” And he
came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not
watch one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed
is willing, but the flesh is weak.” And again he went away and prayed, saying the same
words. And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and
they did not know what to answer him. And he came the third time and said to them, “Are
you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come. The Son of Man is
betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.”
And immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas came, one of the twelve, and with
him a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders.
Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him
and lead him away under guard.” And when he came, he went up to him at once and said,
“Rabbi!” And he kissed him. And they laid hands on him and seized him. But one of those
who stood by drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear.
And Jesus said to them, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to
capture me? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me.
But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.” And they all left him and fled.
April
6
Good Friday
Mark 15:16-39 (NRSV)
Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the
governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort.And they clothed him
in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they
began saluting him, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They struck his head with a reed, spat upon
him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple
cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.
They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross;
it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the
place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed
with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among
them, casting lots to decide what each should take.
It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the
charge against him read, ‘The King of the Jews.’ And with him they crucified two bandits,
one on his right and one on his left.Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads
and saying, ‘Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save
yourself, and come down from the cross!’ In the same way the chief priests, along with the
scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot
save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that
we may see and believe.’ Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.
When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the
afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’
which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ When some of the bystanders
heard it, they said, ‘Listen, he is calling for Elijah.’ And someone ran, filled a sponge with
sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, ‘Wait, let us see whether
Elijah will come to take him down.’ Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And
the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion,
who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man
was God’s Son!’
Holy Saturday
Mark 15:42-47 (NLT)
April
7
This all happened on Friday, the day of preparation,the day before the Sabbath. As
evening approached, Joseph of Arimathea took a risk and went to Pilate and asked for
Jesus’ body. (Joseph was an honored member of the high council, and he was waiting for the
Kingdom of God to come.) Pilate couldn’t believe that Jesus was already dead, so he called
for the Roman officer and asked if he had died yet. The officer confirmed that Jesus was
dead, so Pilate told Joseph he could have the body. Joseph bought a long sheet of linen
cloth. Then he took Jesus’ body down from the cross, wrapped it in the cloth, and laid it in a
tomb that had been carved out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone in front of the
entrance. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where Jesus’ body was laid.
Take time today to place yourself in the mind of the disciples after Jesus was buried. Take
Sabbath rest together with them. Sit in silence with them. Wonder, doubt, and mourn with
them. Wait upon the Lord with them. Pray to God, “Is it over? Are you there? What was that?
Where do we go now?” It is okay to doubt. It is important to remember the messy,
mysterious, intensely human nature of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. But remain
faithful. Unlike the disciples, we have hope. We know how the story ends. But it is important
to remember today that they did not.
April
8
Easter Sunday
Matthew 28:1-10, 16-20 (ESV)
Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary
Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake, for
an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His
appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards
trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know
that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the
place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and
behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” So they
departed quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. And behold,
Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshiped
him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there
they will see me.”
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them.
And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them,
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all
nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching
them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of
the age.”
Alleluia, alleluia! Hearts to Heaven and voices raise:
Sing to God a hymn of gladness, sing to God a hymn of praise.
He, who on the cross a Victim, for the world’s salvation bled,
Jesus Christ, the King of glory, now is risen from the dead.
Now the iron bars are broken, Christ from death to life is born,
Glorious life, and life immortal, on the holy Easter morn.
Christ has triumphed, and we conquer by His mighty enterprise:
We with Him to life eternal by His resurrection rise.
Christ is risen, Christ, the first fruits of the holy harvest field,
Which will all its full abundance at His second coming yield:
Then the golden ears of harvest will their heads before Him wave,
Ripened by His glorious sunshine from the furrows of the grave.
Christ is risen, we are risen! Shed upon us heavenly grace,
Rain and dew and gleams of glory from the brightness of Thy face;
That we, with our hearts in Heaven, here on earth may fruitful be,
And by angel hands be gathered, and be ever, Lord, with Thee.
Alleluia, alleluia! Glory be to God on high;
Alleluia! to the Savior who has gained the victory;
Alleluia! to the Spirit, fount of love and sanctity:
Alleluia, alleluia! to the Triune Majesty.
Christopher Wadsworth, 1862