Last week we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord, his victory over sin and death and his glorification and return to the Father. But there is so much more to the story. That was not the end of the story by any means.
It wasn’t— “Yay, Jesus is risen—let’s go to the buffet and feast in celebration of our promised salvation—then just go on with our lives, same ol’, same ol’. We’ll find out just what it all means when we die and go to heaven—we hope. Pass the deviled eggs please.”
They actually tried that, but Jesus was not done rocking their boats—literally, for some of them, as they had tried to go back to fishing—the story was far from over.
Their story was only just beginning. They were no longer to be hapless bystanders following Jesus around and marveling at his teachings and miracles. They were no longer just fishermen.
They were about to become his ambassadors and proxies, turning the world upside down, as they would soon be accused of doing. Taking on those who thought they had it all figured out already and sharing the truth of God’s love with those who thought they were far from worthy of hearing it.
But first Jesus has to get them away from the buffet table.
So he crashes their party and gives them a commission.
The empowerment to do the things Jesus speaks of here would come on the day of Pentecost, but on this day they, and we, received the marching orders.
“Go into all the world and preach the gospel . . . And these signs will accompany those who believe. . . .” Mark 16
Few people have any trouble accepting that the great commission applies to all of us as far as preaching the gospel to all nations is concerned, yet many struggle with the rest of it—the signs that would accompany those who believe.
Signs that include speaking in tongues, casting out demons, laying hands on the sick, protection from deadly venoms and poisons. This was not limited here by Jesus to the apostles, He says “Those who believe. ”Do you believe? —Then there you go. Expect Jesus to have your back, to work with you to confirm the word, and he will.
We see Jesus working mightily through and with the apostles and the early church again and again in the book of Acts. And the apostle Paul would confirm this in his letters to the churches, that the gifts and signs were not just for the Apostles.
“I wish you all spoke with tongues, but even more that you prophesied; for he who prophesies is greater than he who speaks with tongues, . . .” 1 Corinthians 14:5
Why would Jesus send us out to share the gospel with the world, leave the sharing of the message that saves the souls of those he loves up to us to share, and not help us in that? He doesn’t. And why would we want to?
If Jesus isn’t working with me—His Holy Spirit going before me, speaking through me, and confirming his words in my mouth to the hearts that receive—then I am wasting my breath. But I know better. Because I have seen and experienced his power working through and for me too many times to remember, confirming truth whether in the responses to my words, answers to my prayers, healings and deliverances released, and lives changed.
The Lord works through and with all of who believe and take the commission seriously.
We have been commissioned, empowered and released to share the words of Jesus with the world. And we must continue to trust and pray for more and more of his Spirit to be released and revealed in this quickly darkening world.
I pray continually for the power and love of Jesus to be evidenced in our lives and our worship services.
To see more healings, hear more heart healing words of wisdom and strength, more encouraging and fearlessly honest words of prophetic truth spoken—for the glory of God, not the speakers. To see people delivered from oppression of all kinds—for the glory of God to be seen, felt and experienced in undeniable ways that make people fall to their knees in repentance and worship.
It’s time to part the seas and lead God’s children to freedom.
“And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it.”
Talk about a grand entrance!
Can you imagine the angels standing poised and ready to go at the word from the throne to release the risen Lord? Who will it be? When?Alright, there’s the sunrise—you—go! And an angle shoots down from heaven, no doubt at great haste once he was given the go ahead.
I have no doubt an angel can travel at the speed of light, and he makes a grand appearance—‘How about we shake the earth, that’ll show these big bad guards—and all the demons of hell, who the boss really is here,and then we’ll roll that puny little stone aside!’
‘Guards? Oh look, they seem to be a bit scared as they have fainted—poor dears.’
I don’t know if angels employ sarcasm, I’m pretty sure my guardian angle does. Otherwise we’d never never get along. But somewhere in the midst of this grand angelic show—Jesus gets up and walks out of the tomb. Not just raised from the dead, but resurrected into a perfect glorified body.
A perfect body that can eat, yet walk through walls. One that can walk down a road and have a normal conversation with two travelers and seem like another pilgrim, yet disappear in the midst of a meal at the end of the road. One that has flesh and blood scars that can be seen and touched yet can ascend to heaven like gravity is just no thing at all.
And then the angel just casually sits on the stone, I love that part. Hah, we’ll just slam into the earth at lightning speed with such force that the ground quakes, shove that little stone aside with a back hand brush like it’s just like it weighs nothing, watch the Lord of glory walk out into the sunlight like it’s the first day of creation when he created light and saw that it was good. And then the honored angel just casually sits on the rock like it’s a lawn chair at a picnic as he watches the guards finally recover their wits enough to run off like children being chased by hornets. —‘Off you go now!’
Fine day for a resurrection Gabriel! Why yes Michael, it is—the finest of days! At some point according to the other gospels, another angel has shown up as well—the gospels don’t name them, but it’s possible.
The angel, or one of the angels, then goes inside to sit and wait for the ladies.
Turned out the ladies were wishing for and worrying about the wrong thing. The stone was not a problem for the one who had the power to overcome death. In fact it sounds like the heavens had a lot of fun getting rid of that puny little rock.
Point made—what rock? Jesus is risen.
Let him roll away your stone today. Expect a bigger miracle, nothing is to big for the one who conquered death.
“I felt like I was trapped in a tomb. . . All I had in there with me was a bag of weed, a bottle of whiskey and a bunch of good time friends to help me consume it.“
“Who will roll away the stone from the door of the tomb for us?” 4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away—for it was very large.
How often do we focus on the stone, beat our heads against it, rail at it, pray about it. And finally just camp out on it because—well, it’s not going anywhere.
The Marys and Salome knew that there was death behind that stone—but they didn’t believe they could do anything about it so they just focused on the stone. ‘Stupid rock! If only we could have done this the other day, before they sealed the tomb, we wouldn’t have to come back and worry about it now.’
If only Jesus hadn’t come back to Jerusalem, if only the Priests had listened to Jesus, if only he had been nicer to them, played their games. If only. . . there is always an if only isn’t there? But we cannot go back in time, what is done is done. So now all we can do is worry about this big rock that is blocking the way.
Am I talking about the ladies or us? Both.
I can’t really get to my Lord because this stone is in my way.
‘I have to deal with it, or, I guess, just live on this side of it. Scared, alone and hopeless. Just as well, the situation is all hopeless anyway, there’s nothing on the other side but decay.’
That is just a lie, a distraction to keep you from even going to the tomb. At least the women had the faith to go to Jesus, even expecting little when they got there—’all we need is the stone removed—please?!’
Their mustard seed of faith was rewarded, and they realized that their stone, just like the ones Jesus had rolled away from their hearts when he was here, was gone.
Your stone can be drugs, eating, money worries or money clutching. It can be gambling, emotional scars, drugs, alcohol, pornography, physical pain and sickness, family issues, job issues, the cares of the world, the love of the world, fear, anxiety, depression—all of them huge stones that we push and push on to no avail—they are just there, keeping us from our Lord. And true life.
My biggest stone was being stoned. I spent years running around, running my own life, seeking everything that I thought my flesh needed and wanted, but got farther and farther away from my Lord until I felt like I was trapped in a tomb with no escape. All I had in there with me was a bag of weed, a bottle of whiskey and a bunch of good time friends to help me consume it.
But I was seeing and feeling more and more that I was dead and empty inside, and no amount of dope—not weed, not mushrooms, not cocaine, not acid, not speed—whiskey, beer or Tequila could cover it any more. And all the parties always seemed to end in heartache leaving me more lonely and empty than ever. Even the good money I was making in the welding trade that I had worked so hard to excel at was not rewarding in the least.
Then I started to hear the Lord call from the other side of the rock—’I’m here, waiting for you.’ I began to hear preachers preaching about a plan that the Lord had for me. I could no longer stand it—I had to get past that rock. But who will roll the stone away? I tried doing it myself. I tried quitting the drugs.
No smoking, no drinking, no snorting— nothingfor a month! I declared. I am pushing that stoned stone aside.
Hah, it didn’t hardly budge an inch. I didn’t make it until the end of the first day and I was not only not moving that stone any farther, it was rolling back over the top of me.
I cried out “Lord, I do not want to be this way! I want to follow you, I want to really know you! I will do whatever it takes, go wherever you ask, I’ll read and study, pray and preach, I’ll make a fool of myself, go to the deepest darkest jungles—whatever—just roll away this stone—I can’t even breath anymore, I can’t stand to live this way!”
‘Out of my distress I called on the Lord, he answered me and set me free.’” The words of Psalm 118 that jumped out at me that night of my desperation from the old bible I hadn’t opened in years.
Those words became the messenger from God—the angel—that crashed to the earth like lighting in my soul and shoved that stone away like it was made of paper mâché. It turns out the stone wasn’t the issue.
The stone, the drugs and drink, were hiding the death inside that was caused by my distrust in the Lord and my desire to maintain control. My real issue, the real stone, was the emptiness that came from running from God, from living for the flesh. I was worrying about the stone of addiction being rolled away when inside I was a rotting corpse.
When I decided to take that walk to the garden where I had last seen my Lord, to express my deep and unwavering love and devotion to him, when I declared that I would trust him, if he only rolled that stone away—that stone was obliterated.
When the words of that Psalm opened my eyes to see that I needed to trust Jesus and stop worrying about satisfying the desires of a never satisfied flesh, that I needed to stop worrying about what all my good time party friends thought of me, to see that I would never be free unless I cried out to Jesus—I knew I had to trust him, Trust him with my life, my heart and my soul. And he came crashing out of that tomb I had locked him in, in the dark recesses of my heart, and set me free.
The love and freedom I felt, the peace and the joy I felt, all of this came in an instant that night as I was kneeling on my living room floor with withdrawal cravings wracking my brain and body. On a cold January night the resurrection power of Jesus who walked out of that tomb and embraced me, set me free.
And I have never looked back.
And I have never regretted it for a minute. I have a freedom a purpose and the power of God Almighty backing me up. Because I finally believed—really believed. When I finally gave in and quit running from Jesus, decided to trust him with my heart and my life, the desire to dull my senses with dope disappeared. I did not want to miss a thing.
The stone was rolled away, and it was glorious.
I had been focusing on the stone, wanting it to be removed, but it was the death inside that needed addressed. But overcoming that was more than I could hope for–until I did. The miracle I got that evening was more than I could ever hope for, more than I expected. But we serve a God who overcame death–the stones are easy.
Turns out, Jesus didn’t want my promises of sacrifice and devotion–He just wanted my heart.
There is just no good way to communicate all that happened when Jesus was crucified, no adequate words to describe nor explain, and surely, it is beyond human comprehension and description, all that happened that day on the cross, in the heavens, on the earth, below the earth, and most importantly and significantly —in the heart of Jesus, the Son of Man, Son of God.
We cannot fathom the depth of the love that held him to that cross and kept him on mission, thus we cannot fathom the depth of the pain he experienced in the depths of his soul as that intense and never faltering love was rejected, scorned and mocked—as those he loved, from his followers, to his people, to his own Father, turned away and rejected him, leaving him to suffer and die misunderstood and unappreciated.
The few who did still love and feel the pain of his ordeal in their souls were left without hope. And this only added to Jesus’ pain. No one seemed to understand that this was all necessary and foretold. Yet, if they had, it wouldn’t have happened; a plan and scenario only His Father could have foreseen and used for good—taking advantage of man’s ignorance and susceptibility to evil influences, to save him from those very things.
Even in their taunts they proclaimed truth, yet failed to understand the words. In three days this temple would indeed be rebuilt. But it would not be a temple built with hands. The large heavy curtain that separated the Stone Temple Sanctuary from the world was torn in two, perhaps because the Spirit of God had left the building— perhaps as a sign that the way was now open for all who wished, to come before the Father—through Jesus Christ who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
There would be no more need for a temple made of stone for the Spirit of God would soon be residing in the hearts of those who loved him, a new temple was being prepared that day, and would be completed on the resurrection day—a temple rebuilt in three days.
Preparing this message I prayed “Lord, help me to communicate the significance and gravity of this event, what the cross means to us and what it meant to you. Help me to communicate the price you paid for our sin, for our redemption through your words, from your Spirit, from your heart—Lord, I hesitated (dare I even say it) help me to see the crucifixionthrough your eyes.”
But then I knew, that’s what I had to do. To try to take you there, to the cross on that horrific and reality altering day, through the eyes of the Savior. As I said, words can never fully explain, nor minds comprehend, the things of the Spirit that were happening simultaneously in history and in eternity that day. But we have to try.
After all, we were there. It was our sinful flesh that was being crucified that day, the evil that dwells in our hearts was being transposed from us to Christ in those dark hours. His death was our death, his hellish nightmare experience should have been ours.
20 I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. Galatians 2:20
When Paul said he had been crucified with Christ, it was not word play, that is the reality of the believer in Christ. So, since Jesus became us on the cross, maybe it is not so radical to try and see the cross through his eyes. It is after all, not we who live, but Christ who lives in us.
Through His Eyes
Jesus, the Nazarene, teacher, prophet and miracle worker, is being nailed to a rough hewn and heavy wooden cross, the kind the Romans use to cause a slow and hideous death that becomes a fear inducing spectacle for all to see. The sight of a cross struck fear and revulsion in all, because they knew what it was for—so did Jesus, and it loomed large in his vision just before he was forced to lie on it.
His arms are lashed to the cross beam with ropes and he turns to look at the soldier who has placed a sharp spike against his wrist. He sees the hammer rise and fall and he cries out in pain. He is startled by the sudden intensity of the pain that manages to override momentarily even that of his lash torn back pressed against the wooden beam, and the new puncture wounds being made in the back of his head, as he is forced to lay his thorn crowned head against the cross beam.
But what he sees as he looks through swollen eye lids at the soldier who is swinging the hammer is a man who has no idea the evil he is perpetrating and who it is that he is piercing with the nails. He is just a soldier following orders to execute what he believes to be just another Jewish rebel. Jesus looks at him, the one who sees him as just another worthless Jew to be rid of, and loves him, him and his fellow soldiers; and prays, “Father forgive them, they know not what they do.”
The next thing he sees is the soldier reaching over him to nail the accusation against him to the cross above his head. He feels the vibrations of every blow painfully transferred through the three nails holding his hands and feet.
He sees the dusty sandaled feet of those passing close by as they mockingly read the charge on the sign—“King of the Jews” And they laugh as they begin making jokes among themselves at his expense. He sees the hobnailed sandals of the soldiers as they push back the jeering mockers lest someone grab the pile of clothing that Jesus’ had just been stripped of—the sum total of his earthly belongings, now spoils to be gambled for.
To his left and right, he sees from the corner of his eye, other crosses and hears pained and hoarse voices alternating between curses and taunts as they too–mock him.
Lying on his back it is hard to see anything really, as He is forced to squint his burning eyes against the glaring overhead sun, a sun seemingly intent on adding to his misery. Suddenly his vision is swimming as he is quickly hoisted upright in one swift, well practiced maneuver, and he finds himself looking down on his world as the cross is lifted up and dropped with a flesh tearing thud into a hole in the ground.
His vision soon clears as his dehydrated and blood loss weakened head stops spinning. He can now see the whole crowd, the same that has jeered and hissed at him all the way to this hilltop. He sees through the blood and sweat that flows unchecked into his tortured eyes, the Chief Priests who are now defiling themselves by looking upon the blood of a man who will soon be dead. Yet Jesus knows they must be there, the Chief Priests are the ones who must oversee this offering of the final Passover lamb.
Mark 15:31-32 –Likewise the chief priests also, mocking among themselves with the scribes, said, “He saved others; Himself He cannot save. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe.”
Yet the taunts of the priests are like a knife to his heart, because he knows that they will suffer greatly for what they do, and they don’t have to —if they had only listened and believed.They were the first ones to be shown the truth; from the prophets, to his visit to the temple as a boy, and his many visits to the temple. God was speaking, and they were scheming.
He looks at the gathered crowd; he sees the faces in the crowd, and he sees into their hearts.
He sees the angry man who just lost all he owned to a crooked steward. He sees the hurting woman who just lost a baby girl to sickness and is despairing beyond words. He sees the horrified child peering out from behind his father. He sees the disappointed rabbi who really believed that he could be the Messiah, but is now angry that he was apparently duped—yet again.
Their taunts and jeers, rage fueled by disappointment and hopelessness, tears at his heart.
He sees the women who followed and cared for him looking on from a distance, horrified and confused. Their faces a mask of disbelief and pain as they weep into their handsand try in vain to comfort one another. He aches to be able to comfort them and tell them to not give up hope, ‘this is not the end’—but he knows that all they can see and hear now is death and despair.
Then he sees a sight that horrifies him more than all the rest—his mother, Mary, standing next to his good friend and devoted follower—John. She desperately reaches out to him but is held back by John and the gleaming points of Roman spears.
The pain and anguish he sees in her eyes as they search his for some kind of answer, is another knife in his already aching and straining heart. “Mother,” he croaks between labored breathes “behold your son” referring to John. He then admonishes John —’this is now your mother’–care for her.
Everywhere he looks he sees and hears human pain, anguish, anger, fear and rage. All directed at, and magnified by his body pinned to this pagan cross.
But through it all, through the pain induced haze that causes his eyes to dim and nearly black out at times, through the taunts, cries and jeers, he still has a strength and a measure of peace; a strength and a peace that has been with him through all the years of his ministry, a presence he felt even as a child and recognized as a presence that he had known even long before that—a presence and oneness that had been his for eternity past—it was the presence of his Father.
His Father’s Will
He knows he has to do this. He knows the prophecies and the promises, that he is the promised one, the suffering servant, the seed of Eve—the Lamb of God, he knows he is in his Father’s will. And that is what gave him the strength and the will to face this day in the first place, to come back to this city knowing it would be his end.
His cousin John had confirmed his mission at his Baptism—”Behold the Lamb, who takes away the sin of the world” and his Father had sent his Spirit to affirm and empower him in his human and frail form. But what happens now, as he hangs there on that fated cross, he is not prepared for.
Although he knew it had to happen, there was just no way of being prepared for it—the Holy one, the one through whom, for whom, and by whom, all things were created—he who knew no sin, had no way to comprehend, or scale by which to measure, the darkness that He was about to become—in the eyes of his Father.
And he feels the darkness as much as sees it approach.
He turns his eyes heavenward as the bright sun that had earlier tormented him now inexplicably dims until he can see nothing, not with his eyes—but his heart and soul are witnessing things he had never been forced to look upon before, he is feeling things he had never felt, and hearing voices of pain, vileness, condemnation and curses in his head that drown out and overshadow the mocking voices and the angry and anguished cries that have besieged him all day.
But then, the worst pain of all—the heart ripping, spirit killing, bone chilling feeling of sudden emptiness, scorn and abandonment, as all things good, all things right, his very sense of self and his very identity is suddenly ripped away—his Father has turned away—all of heaven, has turned away.
He has become sin, he has become darkness, he has become death. He is totally and utterly alone as all the heinous and vile things mankind has ever done or imagined doing is now in him. He is living it, breathing it, it is emanating from his very pores like the blood he had sweated out just the night before as he anticipated this moment.
He who knew no sin—has become sin. And his Father has forsaken him for it.
He looks down for a moment, forced back into the present by the painful reality of having to pull himself up against the nails just to take a breathas the pressure on his hanging torso makes it impossible to breath normally, and he sees, in the light of a few hastily acquired torches, the faces of his sheep—the ones he has promised to shepherd even if he has to go looking for them, and he knows—he knows, a sense from somewhere deep in his tortured core, that he has to endure this—for them.
But the anxiety, the rising feeling of panic, the bottomless pit of despair that has taken the place of the fullness and love he had always sensed from his Father is almost more than he can bear, and before he even realizes he has decided to speak, the anguished words of his ancestor King David are ripped from his cracked and bleeding lips—spoken in the language he learned at his mother’s knees “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” — “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”
And still, the darkness grips him. He vaguely sees a sponge lifted before his face, he smells the sour smell of wine but it is soon withdrawn as those below shout something about Elijah.
He sees in his minds eye the brief image of Elijah as he was on the day that he and Moses had come to prepare him for this day, on the mount of transfiguration. And he is reassured just a bit, just enough to keep him from cursing the day he was born into this vile planet.
And he continues to fight to remember why he is here. To bleed for the sins which continue to course through him, and he understands the darkness of the sun. The Father had turned away from the sin he has become and the light of the world has departed, the Father has looked away and the Life and the Light of men is being extinguished.
Then suddenly, it is done. Three hours of torturous outer darkness separated from the love that is his Father, eons of compiled sin—blasphemies, perversions, murders, greed, vile and heinous acts of every nature, all crammed into the longest three hours ever lived by anyone on this earth—has ended.
He is still on the cross, he is still bleeding and fighting for every breath, still racked with pain and heartbroken for those he loves—but he sees the sun began to shine again and he hears the voice of his Father as coming from a distant place, and it whispers—it is finished.
‘It is finishedSon’— words that Jesus quietly repeats. He looks down and sees the wide eyes and expectant faces of the now silent crowd and he knows that he has completed his mission. He senses his Father drawing nearer and he cries out— a cry of triumph mixed with pain and fury as from a warrior who has vanquished his foes yet still bleeds from the fight that was fueled by a need to finally and utterly destroy the enemy.
The body still wants to fight, his muscles quiver with the effort and his mind races with the implications of it all but he knows he is finished—for now. There is nothing left to do here and he releases himself from his battered flesh, he gives up his spirit, with the words, “Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit.”
He is leaving his battered body behind, the shell of the man he had become for thirty three years, but he knows he will return because he knows he has defeated death on that Roman cross—no one else knows it yet—but they will—soon, very soon.
Then he bought fine linen, took Him down, and wrapped Him in the linen. And he laid Him in a tomb which had been hewn out of the rock, and rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. And Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses observed where He was laid. Mark 15:46-47
The Gospel accounts of Jesus’ trial is one of mocking, misery, injustice and slander. All against an innocent man.
Just the day before he was the long awaited King,the Son of David come to restore the Kingdom, in the minds of the adoring crowds. But today, those same crowds are calling for his death. And they use the title, King of the Jews, to mock and convict him. Their adulation has turned to mocking.
The mob is a dangerous and fickle beast. Our forefathers recognized this and it is why we have the court system that we do, or are at least supposed to have, where all are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. And all have a chance to defend themselves and to face their accusers. Jesus was convicted and sentenced to death here merely to gratify the crowd who demanded justice for a crime that could not be named or proven.
That is also why we in this nation have a representative form of government, restrained within a long standing and time tested Bill of rights that is supposed to prevent rash and emotional sentiments from ruling the day no matter how big or loud a mob demands it. We are not supposed to be ruled by the whims of the crowd, much to the surprise and dismay of many today—we are not a straight out democracy. Reason and truth are too hard to hang on to when emotions and peer pressure are running high. We are a representative republic, governed by representatives that we choose.
Jesus is the victim of mob rule here, straight up on the fly democracy, subject to the verdict of the people who were persuaded by those who were supposed to be the experts in these things, to demand therelease of a murderer at the same time they are demanding the execution of a man who has never committed a crime in his life.
This is probably not the usual track you see a preacher take when he is teaching on the trial and conviction of Jesus but I believe there is an important and relevant message here for the church today. We cannot get caught up in popular sentiment and assume that just because most say something is so, or because the experts say it is so—that it is.
And when those popular sentiments turn against us, when the band wagon we refused to jump on tries to run us over, we must not give in, and we must realize that sometimes the best response is just what Jesus did here. Stand on truth, don’t waste your breath arguing with the hysterical and the liars, and never compromise who you are—a child of the Most High God. A God who in the end will not be mocked and will remember all the mocking and pain inflicted on his children.
We must not be swept up by crowd or emotion driven passions and become hysterical caricatures useful as tools for those with whatever agenda. You stand apart, you stand strong, you stand dignified and tall—even if you must stand alone. The quiet and nonplussed demeanor and reaction of a child of God, to the abuse of the mob, drawn from the hope and the strength of our faith, will drive the mob insane with fury, but it is our victory and our greatest witness and may even win some to Christ.
“Surely, this man is a son of God.” —The words of one Roman soldier after all he witnessed on this day when the crooked politicians and the lynch mob prevailed over the body of Christ, yet could not break his spirit.
That soldier spoke as one, not as a mob, because, after all, mobs are made up of individuals. Individuals that, when all the noise and peer pressure subsides, must wrestle with all they have just been part and parcel to.
But what about us? How do we respond to the mob?
For years I read the story of Jesus’ bogus trial and marveled that Jesus did not do more to defend himself, to stand up to and counter his accusers and mockers. But he remained mostly silent, speaking only a few words, basically just confirming their accusations against him, which of course had to do with his claims to be the Messiah, the Son of God. With very few, yet poignant words, he confirmed both to the Sanhedrin and to the Roman court that he was as they said, the Christ, “the Son of Man who would return with the clouds of heaven”, and that he was, in answer to Pilate’s query, “the King of the Jews.” Thus he was crucified for telling the truth.
But he didn’t argue his case—that he really was the Christ, the King. He didn’t explain how the scriptures bore that out. He didn’t use any of the mike dropping responses that he had so often used against those who challenged him or perform any of the miracles he was so widely known for, he just went along, as the prophets said he would, like a sheep—dumb before it’s shearers and then led to the slaughter. We know he had to die to fulfill his mission to purchase our salvation. But how could he be so passive about it? It’s not really passiveness though—there’s a real dignity to his unflappable nature in the face of such horrific mocking and abuse.
The strength and wisdom behind Jesus reactions and responses to his abusers and accusers becomes more evident and admirable the more you understand who Jesus is and the nature of men. Jesus once taught that the meek would inherit the earth. Meekness is not weakness. It takes incredible strength and restraint not to respond in kind to mocking and abuse, to stand tall when others are doing their utmost to knock you down. Often the best defense is a refusal to rise to the bait, to let the evil have their say and to let them fully expose themselves in their foolishness and hate. Hate always proves itself the fool if given enough opportunity to do so. Even Pilate here was beginning to have his doubts as to the legitimacy and justification for crucifying this supposed rebel and troublemaker. As heartless and hardened as Pilate was, he was struck by the strength of one who would so calmly face and stand tall in the face of such abuse and frenzied accusation. And he even tried to find a way to release Jesus. “Do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” For he knew that the chief priests had handed Him over because of envy.
But the chief priests stirred up the crowd, so that he should rather release Barabbas to them. Pilate answered and said to them again, “What then do you want me to do with Him whom you call the King of the Jews?” Mark 15
But the mob continued to vote no. And Jesus continued to stand tall and refused to debate with those whom he knew he could not dissuade. He was listening to his Father and he knew the prophecies, he knew he would be mocked, scourged and crucified no matter how he responded. Evil was having its day, or so it thought. It was actually playing right into God’s design to overcome death itself.
But today, standing before the dignitaries and the thronging holy day crowds in the City that God had chosen for his Temple, it sure seems like Jesus would have had a great opportunity to expand on why this was all a mockery and that they were all being duped. I think Jesus also understood that they were past that. He had spent three years doing just that already, they knew the truth yet they chose to accept the lies. There comes a point when you must realize that you have nothing left to prove; you know who you are, your life and words have proven it time and again, and it is only the wannabe’s who are still squawking.
Jesus was not going to dignify their foolishness any longer and his actions today would become his greatest witness to date. That is something we all need to learn from. Honorable restraint and wisdom comes from listening to the Father, and from knowing where you stand. Truth in the light of lies needs no defense, does not dignify a response, when it is evident that the one perpetrating the lies will not hear nor stand for truth—and will only mock it when it is present.
We win in the end, our God will not be mocked-nor will his children!
“All is as was prophesied long ago. And we are not deceived or blind to the truth.“
Jesus suffered the injustice and acquiesced to their illegitimate authority for one reason, so that we could be free of any verdict that unjust and illegitimate courts of law and public opinion could endeavor to impose on us. He carried the shame of rejection so that we would not. But alas, he is being rejected still, he and all who follow–cancelled, or so they think.
We are entering into a season in this nation where we are becoming, as believers in Christ and adherents of his word, fair game for persecution and censorship. The enemy has gained the highest platforms and controls the loudest voices and he is doing everything he can to cause society at large to despise and reject the message of the gospel and we who dare speak and live it.
I don’t need to give you examples. If you need them you are the problem. All of you who are awake can see and hear the outright insanity and blatant lies that are being propagated as true and proper behavior; the killing, enslavement and perversions of our most innocent and susceptible, the militarization and transformation of our once free republic, and the abolishment of the rights that have protected the church and all God fearing people for so long.
All is as was prophesied long ago. And we are not deceived or blind to the truth.
Evil is called good and good is called evil. And those who dare speak out or express concern are quickly dumped on, ostracized, threatened and destroyed.
This is more than an attack on our nation, more than an attack on our traditions and values, this is not politics as usual—this is an outright war on the church—on us as Christians. And unless we are bold enough, prayed up and anointed enough, loving and courageous enough, to turn the hearts of this nation back to God, this will only get worse—until we are done and gone.
The church, and then the blessed and free nation where all people could worship their God as they see fit, will be no more. And we will just be a pawn in the enemies’ end time strategy to destroy the crown of God’s creation—mankind— and doom us all to eternal death, separated from our Father.
But, if we recognize and hold on to the knowledge, the hope and the truth of our place in Christ, to the fact that no matter how despised and rejected we may be by the shrill and intimidating voices coming at us from all sides, we are not despised, we are not rejected, by the only one that matters, our Father. Because we know and have not despised and rejected his Son and the grace and hope that he gives us.
And we have a secret weapon that the world cannot know for it neither sees him nor knows him but we know him for he is in us and is with us—the Spirit of power, the Holy Spirit of God.
When all seems hopeless and lost—God is just getting started. That’s when the miracles kick in. That’s when the Holy Spirit, which Peter did not havethat dreadful night in the courtyard by the way, kicks in, rises up and says—yes, I know the Galilean, and I am with him and will always be with him. And I will not be weeping any bitter tears today.
Those days of powerless victimization and fear are gone. We are Spirit empowered and fearless warriors of Christ. And the enemy fears us. We will not be so easily cowed into silence or denial.
There is only one reason the enemy would be so determined and blatant in his attempts to silence us—because he fears the truth of God’s word in our mouths.
Time and again he has been defeated by God’s word. Even in what he thought would be his greatest triumph, destroying the very Son of God by deceiving his people into rejecting and despising him even to death, he was being defeated by the word of God, because he didn’t understand the prophecies that he was fulfilling in his blind hate fueled rage.
God used the hatred and evil that was unleashed by man’s disobedience and blindness to evil to achieve his ultimate purpose, to restore a real relationship with Him.
And I have to believe the same is happening today. So yeah, the enemy may think he is having his day, but it will be short lived, because our God lives. And his word never goes unfulfilled—never.
The more this world and the enemy tries to stop us, the more the words of the prophets are being fulfilled and setting us up for the final outpouring of His Spirit and the return of our King.
Satan is a fool and so are all those who do his bidding. He is only hastening his final demise.
We who love our God, love his word and welcome His Holy Spirit are never alone, never despised or forgotten by our God. And we will not, nor cannot, be cancelled!
What does the darkness that Jesus experienced at the end of his days on earth have to do with me? Everything!
A couple of weeks ago I was blessed to get to take a day off work to attend a spiritual healing seminar put on by a group called Elijah House.
Basically there were several sessions of teaching, each followed by a time of quiet prayer—just you and the Lord. One of the sessions had to do with overcoming shame; shame that may have been inflicted on you by the rejection or condemnation of someone in your life that caused you to question your worth, or your worthiness to loved.
Which of course greatly affects how you relate and respond to the world around you. Being despised and rejected can have great psychological effects that last way beyond the initial hurt.
We were instructed to ask the Lord to reveal to us words or an event in our lives that may have caused us shame. Something that we may not even remember as being anything that really impacted us.
As I was praying I kept having this memory of Hockey Practice in Minnesota when I was 7 or 8 years old. It wasn’t a repressed memory, it was something that I remembered very clearly and often, and have dealt with it. And, as far as I know, gotten over it.
We were doing reps back and forth on the ice under the lights and the falling Northern Minnesota snow, and near the end of practice I see my stepfather standing by the coach, come to pick me up I suppose, which was weird because I usually walked home. I skate over to him just in time to hear him respond to a question or comment from the coach with—“Oh, he’s not my boy, that’s Sandy’s boy. Just wait till my boy gets old enough to be out here, he’s gonna be a real athlete.”
As I have told you before, I was never the best hockey player, and I had plenty of reminders, like this one. But what was hurtful about the experience was that my stepfather felt the need—this wasn’t the only time I would hear this—to always make it known that I was Sandy’s boy, not his. Like that would have been embarrassing to him to have me as a son.
Fine, whatever. I got over that long ago and I always knew my real father, and my mother loved me and were proud of me. So, although it didn’t do a lot for my self-esteem in the moment, it wasn’t really life altering.
My real Father never despised or rejected me. And my mother always made me feel special by telling me that I could do whatever I set my mind to, and I believed her. Hockey was just not one of those—I just wasn’t that into it. Small wonder with the great encouragement from my step dad.
Anyway, something was just not clicking in this prayer time. It wasn’t the negative aspect or the rejection that seemed to be the focus of this memory that the Holy Spirit seemed to have planted firmly in my mind—it was those words that kept echoing over and over in my head—”that’s Sandy’s boy.”
Soon the session was over and it was break time. I checked my phone and saw that I had a message—I listened to it and immediately ducked into a storage closet and called back the person who had called. It was an outpatient nurse who worked with my mother. My mother was in the hospital, again, and was having a real hard time and the nurse was really hoping someone from the family could come be with her.
She had already called my brother and sister and they were unable to leave their jobs right then. My mother had just had a similar thing happen a month earlier where she was in the hospital with what they thought was a stroke. That earlier incident had been accompanied by terrible hallucinations and great confusion that had left her traumatized and terrified of hospitals. So this had me very worried.
As I was listening to the nurse I heard those words again—“That’s Sandy’s boy.” But now it was also accompanied by the pressing thought—Sandy needs her boy.
So I immediately excused myself from the conference and headed into Billings. I found my mother in a room off the emergency room, very agitated, scared and confused. Turns out she had a brain bleed caused by high blood pressure and it was causing all sorts of issues.
I spent the day with her comforting, reassuring, and praying for her. And, long story short, she is on the mend, and between my siblings and I, over the next week we kept her in a place of love and reassurance knowing that she would be okay.
God showed up—once again—to be there when I needed him most.
In what could have been a very dark and lonely hour—those words, and the fact that I knew without a doubt that they came from the Lord in just that moment, gave me assurance that I was not alone, that I was being comforted and remembered in what could have been a very distressful time.
And, just as importantly, that He was remembering my mother and had set up this day just so that we could be there together—Sandy and her boy. Knowing that God was in control, that he remembered both of us, made that dark valley a lot less frightening.
Because Jesus was rejected, we never will be, and he proves it over and over again.
I tell you that story, as inadequate as words are to explain what was truly a deeply spiritual and emotional encounter and experience, to try to illustrate to you the incredible and almost unfathomable significance and veracity of the love of God for us, and the treasure we have available to us because of Jesus’ willingness to experience being rejected and despised.
The Holy Spirit, working well in advance and through multiple levels of players and circumstances set me up to take off a day from work—my first this year, to be at a conference where I would be in a room full of people who were contending and believing for the Holy Spirit to move among us unhindered by the doubts or distractions of those who don’t believe or aren’t comfortable with the personal encounters with the person of the Holy Spirit.
So I was in a room saturated with his presence and given opportunity and encouragement to listen for a word. The word he gave me was relevant to what we had been learning and did encourage me, but more importantly—he set me up spiritually for the raw experience of seeing my mother in a near death state of delirium and physical peril.
And then he stayed with me, throughout the day. He made known clearly, powerfully and sweetly through all of this, that I was not alone—that I was not despised nor rejected by my God—no matter what—I was never, and would never, be alone.
But more than that—through this experience he was caring for my mother. He didn’t just set the stage for me to be able to handle the challenge of the day and weeks to come, he was also setting things up for my mother, whom he also loves and will never despise, reject or leave alone.
He made sure she would not be going through this dark valley alone—that I would be there and able to assure and remind her that her Lord was there as well. And I’ll tell you what—that made the difference between a nightmare experience for her and just a hurdle to get over. I know because the nightmare and the darkness was hovering all over and just itching to take control—it has before.
But not today bubba. Because my God was despised and rejected, me and mine are not. My mother is on the mend in a great rehab facility and me and my siblings were brought together in this in a way we have not been in many years.
An anguished and lonely prayer in a garden, a kiss of betrayal, a curse and a denial from a best friend, a crooked trial amid horrendous accusations by the very priests who claim to serve the Father who sent him, and a death sentence for the blasphemies that the Son of God is incapable of committing—pain, anguish, betrayal, abuse and slander—it all led to a whispered word to a descendant of barbarians a half a world and two millennia away—“That’s Sandy’s boy.”
But you know what that really means? What it meant to me? That is not just Sandy’s boy, the Heavenly Father says in that “That is my boy, and his mother is my daughter, and there is now therefore no more shame, no more fear and when he walks through the valley of the shadow he shall fear no evil, for I am with him.
And what more could we possibly need, want or desire?
Oh yeah, this:
I Am— The one who was and is and is to come, is coming back for you and me.
This wordless expression of love had to have been a gift that Jesus’ heart desperately needed as he was about to face his final rejection—alone.
We can probably assume that because of the very similar recounting of the story of anointing in the gospel of John that this woman is Mary of Bethany—Lazarus’ and Martha’s sister. The Mary who had so controversially sat at Jesus’ feet to listen as her sister served, and who would later see her brother raised from the dead. She certainly has reason to be grateful, but more than that, she has allowed herself to be changed, change by love deep in her core.
What we see here is an act of pure unselfish love and devotion as she pours out on Jesus what would have been a very expensive, rare and special jar of ointment called spikenard. Probably brought there all the way from India by camel caravan along the infamous Silk road.
It may have even been an heirloom. But Mary, despite what others may think, or the cost to her, breaks the neck of the costly and beautiful flask, hand carved from alabaster, and pours it on the head— and according to John’s gospel—even the feet of Jesus, and then wipes it in with her hair. Quite unbecoming really, especially for a young woman from a respected household.
But she did not care what others thought, how they would respond. She was not just pouring out scented oil—she was pouring out her heart. She desperately wanted to pour out her heart, to express her barely contained love for this Messiah, and this was the most lavish and sincere way she could think of to do that.
And her heart won the day; her heart was listening to the Spirit and her mind came in line and complied.
And she was derided for it by those who saw with their eyes but not with their hearts. But she was blessed by the one who mattered, the one who saw her heart—Jesus.
It would probably be the only true and pure expression of love and devotion he would receive that entire tumultuous last week of his life. It had to have been a gift that his heart desperately needed as he was about to face his final rejection—alone.
And this love was expressed without a single word spoken. Words are necessary, yes, but they are but a trigger and a reminder of what cannot truly be expressed by mere words.
Love is felt, not heard. Best expressed with the eyes—through which one can see into the soul. It is best received with a look or a touch when the words cannot come because the feeling is too deep. The deepest and truest expressions of love are communicated heart to heart. That’s what Mary was doing here for Jesus.
You all know that look, that feeling, the depth of emotion and conviction that can only pass between a husband and wife, a child and a parent or grandparent, between brothers and sisters in the Lord—those who share a common heart, a like mind and a spiritual bond—when there is something powerful between you that no one else can understand or know but the two who share it.
It’s a love that finds its origins in our God. And it is the love he has for us, the look he has in his eyes when he sees us, if we’ll only take the time to look back at him and respond with our hearts and not just our heads and lips.
26 Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. 27 Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God. Romans 8
Because if we don’t connect on a heart and soul level with Jesus, we’re missing the whole point and our responses will be way off target.
8 She has done what she could. She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial. 9 Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” Mark 14
Because Mary followed her heart and did what she could. Because she did not let her head get in the way as some of the men were doing, and convince herself that this would be an extravagant and foolish waste that really accomplished nothing but making Jesus smell good for a while, embarrassing herself in the process—her mind knew it was a big gamble—because of this, she was fulfilling a prophetic and important act that no one could possibly know the significance of but Jesus.
She was anointing him for his burial a day or two later. And giving him what would be the last and only sincere measure of comfort and assurance he would receive at the hands of another human before his brutal arrest and execution.
Because Mary listened to her spirit and allowed herself to know the truth, she was moving in the prophetic without saying a word. Think about that… next time you are moved to act on something the head doesn’t understand.
This seemingly insignificant act of foolish waste was an anathema to the well versed chosen twelve. ButMary was one who knew what was important. She knew when it was time to talk and time to listen. She knew when it was time to work and time to sit. She was the one who was chided by her sister Martha for sitting at Jesus’ feet listening, while Mary fretted about the work to be done.
Mary was the one who unashamedly and passionately threw herself, weeping at Jesus feet, laying it all out there; “Lord if you had been here my brother would not have died!”
In that moment, hers was a broken, passionate and honest heart that moved Jesus to share in her grief and would spur him on to do his greatest miracle yet—raising a man long dead and buried from the grave.
Mary knew when it was time to connect with her Lord. And this day in the house of Simon the leper, was one of those times—not for her, not for her brother, but for her Lord—they both needed this.
We could all learn a valuable lesson here. If our relationship and time spend seeking and being with our Lord is always to see what we can get—then it is not a true heart response to the love we are so freely given. And it is not a response that is influenced or inspired by the Holy Spirit.
Everything Jesus says, is and does points to one thing–He loves you, right now, just as you are..
And when you realize it—when you understand and open the eyes of your heart to see that Jesus is ever standing before you beckoning you come, cheering you on, praying for you, holding your hand and always teaching you things that will make you wiser, stronger and prepared for the challenges to come in the courtyards of the priests, in the quiet moments when the enemy tries to whisper that you need to take things into your own hands because this Jesus and Holy Spirit stuff is just whatever—you fill in the blanks—when you recognize the love in the eyes that are looking at you from within your very heart—then you will respond like Mary did, and you will finally know what it truly means to be loved.
End times prophecy is tricky business with dual and even triple fulfillments, apocryphal symbolism and out of the blue proclamationsand narratives that morph from historical records, to warnings of impending calamities, into oracles of events that we cannot ever fathom or foresee until they happen.
But in every case, as history has proven out, when they do happen, it is always starkly obvious for those who are watching. And it is always awe and faith inspiring.
Chapter 13 of Mark is full of fantastic prophetic warnings, and it all ends with this admonition from Jesus:
32 “But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Take heed, watch and pray; for you do not know when the time is. 34 It is like a man going to a far country, who left his house and gave authority to his servants, and to each his work, and commanded the doorkeeper to watch. 35 Watch therefore, for you do not know when the master of the house is coming—in the evening, at midnight, at the crowing of the rooster, or in the morning— 36 lest, coming suddenly, he find you sleeping. 37 And what I say to you, I say to all: Watch!” Mark 13
It seems like Jesus is trying to tell us something—oh, I know, watch!
It would appear that one of those significant events to be on watch for would be the horrific desecration of the temple.
The “abomination of desolation.” Jesus is quoting Daniel here from centuries earlier; words that were initially fulfilled by the Greeks back in 168 BC when Antiochus Epiphanies set up an altar for Zeus on top of the Lord’s altar and sacrificed a pig in the Temple.
The fact that Jesus is repeating this prophecy in answer to the question as to when the temple will be destroyed, again, couched in a warning to flee when it happens, would indicate that it has not been completely fulfilled. And, indeed later, the Romans would desecrate the templejust before they would go on an all-out campaign to destroy Israel and to wipe it’s memory from the map, literally, renaming it Palestine.
But most scholars believe, and it would seem to be the case in the context of the world ending prophecies to follow—like a burnt out sun and stars falling like fall leaves— and in light of other biblical warnings, that Jesus is also referring to a much later temple desecration to come.
This may well be describing apostacies that the Anti-Christ, or man of sin, as he’s referred to elsewhere will commit in the temple.Some believe he will set up the image of the beast in the temple—the beast he forces the world to worship in the last days of his reign of terror as described in Revelation.
‘But the temple is no more—how can this be?’ Huh, just a generation or two ago they also said ‘Israel is no more—how can this be?‘ We serve a God of the impossible. The meaning of these prophecies is often debated on the grounds that the temple cannot be rebuilt. Excuse me but—that’s absurd.
Because of Jesus’ words here, also repeated verbatim in other gospel accounts, I have always looked for the temple to be desecrated as a precursor to the day of the Lord—for these prophecies to be literally fulfilled.
I’m just reading the prophecies. Like this maddeningly out of the blue tidbit in Thessalonians, offered by Paul as a supplement to a verbal lesson he gave them earlier, of which there is no record. All we have is this:
This passage would seem to indicate that the literal temple would be intruded upon by a usurper who sets himself up as God and actually takes a seat in the temple. If that’s not an abomination, I don’t know what is. Now, there is disagreement as to who this is, if it had been fulfilled by the Roman invaders. Or, if it is future, is it referring to a rebuilt temple, or to our own hearts as we are now temple of the Holy Spirit?
There is no historical figure who completely fulfills this prophecy and the immediate and plainest understanding of these words would make one picture an actual stone and mortar temple— The temple.
Which means what? That the temple would need to be rebuilt before the return of Jesus for his elect. And this all seems to be an echo of Jesus’ own words in Mark.
A rebuilt temple is something that indeed seemed entirely impossible until 1947 when Israel returned to their land with the blessing of the United Nations and reclaimed Jerusalem as their capital, which finally got the blessing of the United States just three years ago under President Trump with the relocation of our embassy.
Don’t underestimate the significance of the most powerful nation on earth acknowledging Jerusalem as the capital city of the people of the covenant after two thousand years of exile. I can guarantee you the enemy is livid over this, as are all his servants.
“But there is a mosque sitting smack on top of the apparent temple site!” Yes, Captain Obvious, there is. But God has overcome much larger obstacles than that in preserving Israel as a people without a homeland for thousands of years, even in the face of varied and many attempts at genocide over the centuries. Restoring the land to them and then preserving them there, even though they are a tiny island in a sea of mortal enemies.
So don’t be so sure there is anything in the way. Watch, that is the point of today’s lesson—watch.The branches of the fig tree are getting tender. (Mark 13;28-30)
Keep an eye on Israel, keep and eye on your own heart and fight with all your might to preserve and restore truth and the freedom to live and proclaim it. Pray for the church, for the United States, and keep praying for Israel—for their protection and for them to recognize their Messiah—many have and are.
Israel is intrinsically intertwined and a major, the major, player in all of end times prophecies. How we relate to and support or neglect Israel will determine how we fare as a people in these final days as well. So, be watchful for all of that.
The enemy is not done trying to destroy Israel and his greatest and final attempt is yet to come.
“Blessed is he who watches. . .” We must be vigilant, watchful for the tricks of the enemy, so that we are not deceived into unwittingly supporting him against Israel, and against us– the church.
The enemy has plans, plans that are laid out in great detail in the old and new testaments, to stop and destroy Israel. He needs to destroy Israel because he is well aware of their key role in the final redemption and judgements of this earth that spell his final doom. The final desecration of the rebuilt temple in Israel will start the final countdown to our Lord’s return to avenge and rescue his people.
But we already know his battle plans;
This is but a small snippet of the great details given of this final battle and the preparations for it found in scripture. But there is something in the way right now, preventing this—us.
It would seem that we, the United States, are the major obstacle to the plan of the enemy, by way of the Antichrist and his pet beast, to his being able to make war on and destroy Israel.
Which is why the enemy is hell bent on destroying us, at least as the God fearing, freedom loving country that we have been who sees Israel as being the rightful inhabitants of the promised land and the people of the covenant of which we—are now benefactors.
This goes way beyond politics, we are in a battle for the soul and survival of this nation, the world. Jesus will not let his people, nor his creation, be destroyed, and he will put an end to it all before that happens—and then, it is all over. Then, the day of the Lord will come. And that final battle on the plains of Megiddo will not go quite like the enemy hoped.
Because, news flash—Our Lord was Jewish, and he plans on returning to the same land from whence he left.
Zechariah goes on the say that Israel will be saved by fleeing through the valley created by the Lord’s splitting of that mountain. And the carnage that befalls the enemies of Israel in that day is described in great detail as well. And it is not for the squeamish.
So, If this is the generation that will witness the final days and get to represent Jesus Christ even in the midst of the great tribulation, what an honor and a blessing to be counted among those chosen for such a time as this, for our eternal reward will be glorious and wonderful beyond comprehension.
Watch, stay diligent, stay on task, and keep the faith. That’s what Jesus wants us to really understand, that he has not forgotten nor forsaken us and we are on the cusp of the greatest adventure of all time.
Even so, come Lord Jesus–come.
17 The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” And let everyone who hears say, “Come.” And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
This nasty cold subzero weather we have been enduring lately has me praying often for ranchers who are calving. I used to calve in February and remember well the struggles of keeping calves alive and well when these cold fronts hit. You just did what you had to do, no matter the cost in sleep, comfort or resources. The life of every calf is precious, not just for money but because you love your animals—the money could never be enough to motivate all that you endure for these critters.
If you visit or talk to any rancher who is calving in weather like this, if they had time to talk, you would find that they have or have had brand new wet calves in the cabs of their pickup trucks, in their kitchens, even in their bathtubs, sometimes all at once and at all hours of the night and day. While the ranchers themselves are emanating the pungent aroma of old and new afterbirth, manure and sour milk as they guzzle coffee and try to thaw out their feet in time to go catch the next calf.
I have an old black and white photo hanging in my church office, counting my years as a children’s pastor it has been in my office for almost 20 years now. I found in at the big museum in CodyWY years ago and instantly fell in love with it because it so captures that spirit of doing whatever it takes to care for your animals, staying on task no matter the cost.
It’s a picture of a Cowboy taken in the 1920’s near Meeteetse Wyoming. The cowboy is on a horse in a blizzard, bundled up as best he can against the cold, and he has a new Herford calve draped across his lap as his horse struggles up a hill against the wind driven snow. It hangs in my office as a reminder to me that ministry is not always easy nor fun. That reaching the lost and caring for the flock is seldom convenient nor is it a part time,yeah, I think I’ll stay in tonight, everyone will be just fine without me kind of assignment.
What does that have to do with end times? Everything. But when you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be troubled; for such things must happen, but the end is not yet.
No matter what you hear, no matter the forecast, the rumors or the challenges—you need to keep trusting in me and the strength that I will give you to complete your task of reaching the lost.
If you read through all of this chapter 13 of Mark and catch the heart of what and why Jesus is telling the disciples of the storms to come, it is so that they are not caught off guard, that they know he expects them to keep seeking the lost, to stay on task and no give up no matter the struggles and difficulty of the times and places they find themselves. And that goes for all of us who follow Jesus and are called according to his purpose.
Every life, every soul, is precious and worth facing the storms for.
Are you ready to face the storms? How have you been holding up in the storms? These are important questions and are exactly why Jesus warns us of them, so that we do not get discouraged and thinks it’s all over, that this is our end. It is not, remember, there is no past tense for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Mark 13 is an entire chapter devoted to Jesus’ warnings of the tribulations to come.
The big scary end times, death and destruction, persecution and tribulation, desecration and desolation, Jesus is coming and the angels are going to gather the elect from the four corners of the world chapter.
It’s scary both to read and to try and teach on because Jesus gives us just enough detail to let us know scary big events are coming, but not enough detail to know exactly when and how they are going to happen. And Mark, as per his usual style, just records the facts and leaves the commentary and analysis to the many generations of preachers and scholars to come.
It’s not scary to me personally, I actually love that Jesus gives us these words of warning and encouragement, detail wrapped in mystery. An eternity altering mystery whose clues will not entirely be understood until they all fall into place as they happen and we who knew the clues say, “yes, yes, yes,—that’s it, that’s what it all meant, the prophecies were true and God is in control!”
But as a pastor it’s scary to teach on because so many have such strong opinions as to what it all means and will argue it as though their salvation depends on it.
That’s just wrong. Your salvation does not hinge on how you interpret end times prophecies—on when you think you will be whisked away, from bliss to bliss or from tribulation to bliss. Nor does it depend on where you think we are in the timeline of God’s plan for the last days. Your salvation depends on one thing, or one person rather, and that is Jesus Christ and whether you have accepted him as Lord and Savior—period.
Jesus is not concerned with how good we are at solving prophetic riddles, he is concerned with how seriously we take the need to stay on task no matter the chaos and challenges around us—Chaos and challenges we were promised and warned would come.
But he also promises to ride the storms with us, giving us the strength and the passion to complete our mission. Don’t give up cowboy, the big roundup is still to come.