Maundy Thursday is the day the church recognizes and observes the Last Supper of Jesus.

Defined as “the ceremony of washing the feet of the poor, esp. commemorating Jesus’ washing of His disciples’ feet on Maundy Thursday” by the Collins English Dictionary, Maundy Thursday calls our attention to those final moments between Christ and his disciples before his death and resurrection.

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with a towel that was wrapped around him.

John 13:3-5

If we believe we can carry the mantles of leadership and shepherd without walking through the acts of sacrificial service and suffering like our Lord, then we are deceiving ourselves. Christ, throughout his entire earthly ministry, spoke clearly and modeled humbly the expectation for those who chose to be called disciples. The true significance of Passion Week was not Christ’s triumphant entry and the cheers of “Hosannah” as he rode into Jerusalem nor was it in the dramatic display of Christ’s authority as he drove out the money changers from the Temple. Rather, the significance of this week was in the quiet and humble declaration that Christ was King and that all the hierarchy and position that was hoped for and expected were not the markers of his power and authority. It was found in the act of washing his disciples’ feet.

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord’, and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.”

John 13:12-15

In Luke’s account of the Last Supper with Jesus, he includes an additional story that took place during this pivotal moment in history. Having shared with these men that one of them would betray him, the disciples began to murmur and discuss which of them would do such a thing. This conversation led to an argument about who would be considered the greatest. Jesus stopped them in their tracks with this statement:

“The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.”

Luke 22:24-27

This was not the first time Jesus addressed this seemingly difficult-to-grasp concept with the disciples. In their humanness, the question of greatness came up often, as it does so today. We are sin-driven people. We hunger for power. We yearn for a seat at the table. And Jesus addressed this hunger for position over and over again. And we, now 2,000 years later, witness Christ’s example and hear his words of gentle conviction. It is not about having a seat at the table; it is about a heart humble to service.

“Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things you will be blessed if you do them.”

John 13:15-17

The blessing we yearn for comes not from elevating ourselves to places and platforms of greatness. Those often look like blessings from a distance. The crowds the lights, and the influence can draw our affection towards a counterfeit kind of blessing. But from Christ’s own words, and by his authority, true blessing comes from laying down our lives, our pride, and our status, wrapping a towel around our waist and washing the feet – serving in unseen and unglorified ways – of those in our home, our marriage, our family, our workplace or ministry.

Jesus told the disciples to follow Him. The heart will constantly tug towards greatness defined by the world, but Jesus said, “Do as I have done for you.” His standard is high. It takes far more strength, maturity, and character to lower ourselves in a Christlike way than it does to climb our way up the ladder.

On Maundy Thursday, as we enter into this time of reflection and remembering, let us recall the moment we said yes to Jesus…the moment we chose to identify ourselves with Christ…when we surrendered to the One who stooped down to live among humanity, the One who knelt down to wash the dirty feet of his disciples, and the One who reaches down into our hearts and draws us to himself.

He made himself low for us.

And our act of gratitude is to do the same for others.

If we truly believe that Christ is the greatest…that he is our Teacher and Lord, then why would we seek any other form of greatness? To align with Christ is to align with serving and suffering. His grace compels us to act in love and sacrifice. His love compels us to serve.

“The strange thing is that it is the man who stoops like that–like Christ–whom men in the end honour as a king, and the memory of whom they will not willingly let die.”

William Barclay

The seventy-two returned with joy and said, “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” He replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Luke 10:17-20

However…

That one word – however – pulling the attention of the listener away from the events that just occurred, and even Christ’s acknowledgment, support, and affirmation is the paradox once again observed in Christ’s kingdom.

Luke chapter 10 opens with the story of Jesus sending out seventy-two disciples to go into every town and proclaim the kingdom of God. His instructions were simple but direct. Their main objective was to preach the kingdom of God and heal the sick. He knew there would be challenges and hardships – “I am sending you out like lambs among wolves.” vs.3 – but he encouraged them and gave them the assurances they needed, “He who listens to you listens to me; he who rejects you rejects me…” vs.16.

And off they went, entering towns, proclaiming God’s kingdom, healing the sick, and casting out demons. When they returned, they were elated! They were so excited to report back to Jesus everything that had happened. I imagine their feelings were much like the excitement and joy we feel after we have just returned from a missions trip. We have stories and photos and slide shows and testimonies, and we just can’t wait to share all the things with all the people. We want others to share in our joy; to see what we saw and acknowledge that God powerfully used us. We want to celebrate the good that God did. We also tend to shine a light on the part we played in the story.

When the seventy-two returned there was much joy and much celebration because of what had happened.

“Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” vs.17

This is typically the moment when the audience jumps to their feet with applause. Instead, Jesus turned this moment into a teachable moment…a very important moment for the seventy-two, and for us today.

He replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” vs.18

What was Jesus saying here? There are two different thoughts on the meaning of this particular phrase. According to William Barclay, it can mean that while the disciples were out proclaiming the kingdom of God and seeing miraculous signs and wonders, Christ could see in the spirit what was happening to Satan; that his power had taken quite a blow.

Another thought is that this statement was warning the disciples against pride. It is understood that it was because of pride and arrogance in his heart that, once the most beautiful of all the angels, Satan was cast out of heaven. Pride was his destruction. And in this statement, Jesus was calling the seventy-two to pause and reflect.

It may be that Jesus was saying to the Seventy, “You have had your triumphs; keep yourselves from pride, for once the chief of all the angels fell to pride and was cast from heaven.”

William Barclay

Jesus spoke a great deal about pride throughout his ministry, so it would not be difficult to believe that rather than hoisting the seventy-two up on his shoulders as great champions of faith, he was warning them to guard their hearts against pride.

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?

Jeremiah 17:9

Jesus knows our hearts better than we know our hearts. He sees our motivations that are often hidden behind even the best of intentions. As Jeremiah inquired, “Who can understand it?” We certainly cannot, but Jesus can…and he did. He wasn’t trying to squash their victories or shame them for feeling joyful, nor was he downplaying the incredible good that had been done, but his greatest concern was that the hearts of the seventy-two remained grounded in humility and surrender to God.

“I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” vs.19

The work that took place in each town and village wherein the seventy-two ministered was good that came directly from the power and authority of Jesus Christ. And it was after he acknowledged the miraculous deeds that had happened through those individuals that he switched the focus to what was truly worth rejoicing about.

“However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” vs.20

The perspective is convicting.

As missionaries, we carry genuine and perceived expectations on our shoulders. We struggle with how to articulate what we are doing, how we are approaching ministry, and how to communicate our work in such a way that will cause others to be proud of us, to choose to support us, or keep people from choosing not to support us. It’s a tricky balance of telling our stories and sharing our victories without creating a small, but very real, platform of celebrity for ourselves. The truth is, I think we all struggle with this. Our wicked hearts get in the way, and while we do things in the Name of Jesus, we also do things to receive the pat on the back, the thumbs up, and the applause from the audience.

Jesus wasn’t just speaking to the seventy-two in this story. He was speaking to you and me. And while it is not a story that prohibits sharing, rejoicing, and celebrating the victories – on the contrary – it is a story reminding us that our greatest source of joy, and purpose for celebrating, is the fact that our names are written in heaven. That is truly a reason to rejoice! Our salvation is secure…our hope is eternity with Jesus. Our greatest earthly accomplishments are not nearly as miraculous as the forgiveness of our sins and the redemption of our souls. There is nothing we do – the greatest or the smallest things – that can outshine our salvation.

Pride bars from heaven; humility is the passport to the presence of God.

William Barclay

This is what Jesus wants us to grasp. It is by Jesus, for Jesus, and through Jesus that our stories and our testimonies and those miraculous moments were done. Through him, and him alone. Our salvation – this gift from God – is our treasure…and our true joy.

At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.” vs.21

I appreciate how Luke’s narrative of this story has captured the emotion Jesus was feeling at this moment. Jesus was feeling good! He rejoiced in the souls that had been open to the message of salvation. He was full of joy through the Holy Spirit. The testimonies and the miracles that the seventy-two brought to him were good and wonderful stories that brought joy to Jesus’ heart, and he said it was for God’s pleasure! If we, at any point in this story, only see Jesus as a joy killer, then we have misunderstood the whole thing. The simple truths were received by those with childlike faith. Again, the paradox of God’s kingdom. The greatest in the kingdom will be like children. Not because Jesus favors youth over maturity, but because those with open and childlike hearts are more receptive to Christ’s message. Jesus was happy. And therefore we, too, can be happy when God’s message is received. Yes, we can absolutely celebrate that!

As we approach the work that God has put in our hands, may we remember by whose power and authority we have been commissioned. May we celebrate the victories, but with humility, knowing that each soul redeemed, and each life transformed has been done only through the power of Jesus Christ. We are simply the stewards of his work. Pride is sneaky. Our hearts rarely detect it. This is why it is imperative for us to continuously lay our pride and our weaknesses at the foot of the cross. If we think that one act of surrender and sacrifice is sufficient, then we are lying to ourselves.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

Galatians 6:14

Remember your true joy. Boast in the work of Christ and seek humility at the foot of the cross.

When God starts chopping away at the branches of my life, I can’t say that I am full of joyful surrender. I typically resist the spiritual machete that starts swinging in my direction. I don’t want it. “God, you can keep your machete to yourself. I’ll happily live with overgrown branches and dead limbs.” But the reality is that life in the Spirit – life in sync with Christ – requires a life surrendered to the pruning seasons.

There is a natural ebb and flow to the life of a Christ-follower: Pruning and Fruit-bearing.

When there are too many dead branches or the limbs are hanging low, they will no longer produce fruit, or, the fruit will not be as sweet. A good farmer knows about pruning.

We had rose bushes galore in our garden in Malawi. They were absolutely breathtaking. The family that lived in the house before us had planted this rose garden. As I poured my morning cup of coffee, I would look out of the kitchen window and gaze on the rich and colorful roses…

…Until the fully blossomed roses dried up and fell to the ground…one petal at time. Eventually, as the weeks progressed, the thorny branches of the rose bushes started growing in all kinds of directions. And they rarely produced any roses.

I’m not a gardener. I, honestly, have no idea how to keep any type of plant alive. As was confirmed in the case of our roses, I was clueless to the fact that the branches needed to be pruned in order for the roses to come back to life. I thought “the bigger the better”, but apparently that is not true…not true at all.

Our day guard came to me one day and asked me if I would mind if he cut the branches down. Kindly, he explained that the reason the roses were not blooming was because they needed to be pruned. No fruit could be produced until pruning had taken place. I gave him the go ahead to do whatever needed to be done to bring the roses back to life. After cutting them back, to what looked like baby bushes, and after some rain and cultivating of the soil, the rose bushes blossomed in full once again.

Pruning is a gift in the wilderness season of transition.

The empty nothingness of the in-between is often the perfect time for God to get into our lives and start pruning out the old and dead branches. This pruning is deep and, often, painful work.

“I feel like I got shot out of a cannon and straight into a plate glass window. I’m still pulling out shards of glass. I’m not sure how long it is going to take to heal.”

Joel shared this with me during one of our weekly breakfast dates. Still reeling from the pain and hurt he experienced in Malawi, it seemed like the process of healing was taking its sweet time. God wasn’t/isn’t done with the pruning.

When we are looking out upon the wilderness of transition it is not merely a vast nothingness that doesn’t make sense, but it is purposeful in the shedding of the old identity and claiming the new one. Part of the shedding process is pruning the old away so that the new can grow. It is imperative for this to happen. And so, we feel pain in the in-between, but that pain is a gift from God.

In John chapter 15 Jesus is challenging us to surrender to the pruning process. He is comforting us, even though it is painful, with the profound truth that in order to grow, in order to produce lasting and rich fruit, we must give ourselves completely to the pruning process:

“I am the vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit…”

John 15:1

There are branches in our lives that are not fruit bearing branches. It is God’s grace that offers to cut them out so that we are no longer enslaved to the superfluous materials and waste that clutter up our hearts, minds, focus and purposes. He cuts off every branch – every distraction and hidden issue – that does not bear fruit. What an incredible gift.

The in-between season in transition is probably the most vulnerable of stages in the process. Everything is laid bare. We can’t hide our dead and fruitless branches from anyone. While we may have been able to block out those hidden things behind our old identities and our old successes, when we step out of that place of comfort every single part of our souls become exposed.

And God graciously uses this time to cut off the dead branches.

“…while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

John 15:1

Guess what…not every branch and every limb needs to be chopped. This is good news! In spite of ourselves, if we are walking with Christ and abiding in Christ, we will produce fruit. This is encouraging to me. However, like my rose bushes in Malawi, in order for the plant to continue to grow and become even more fruitful, it had to be pruned.

In his book, “Building a Discipling Culture”, Mike Breen discusses the natural rhythms of life in our spiritual journey. Like a pendulum that moves from one side to the other in a focused rhythm and steady speed, so our lives move from pruning to growing. Both seasons are necessary for ongoing growth and fruitfulness. He also likens this process to the balance of rest and work. These seasons of pruning – that we surmise as punishment or discipline or something painful to be avoided – are actually seasons of rest.

The pruning season allows us to rest in submission to the purposeful work God is longing to do in us spiritually. He prunes back the fruitful branches. Yes, we had experienced a great season of fruitfulness in our previous ministry and identities. We can point to specific victories that bolster our faith and give us the confidence to move forward. But to move forward and into an increased season of fruit bearing, even those past victories must be pruned. And the best way to walk through this process is to surrender to it and rest in it.

Breathe.

Take a Sabbath rest.

Inventory the areas that God is pruning, and let them go. Allow him access to every single fruit bearing branch.

Because, the next season to come is growth.

How do we do this? How do we allow this pruning process to take over?

Simple:

“Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing (emphasis mine).”

John 15:5

The first gift we receive from the wilderness of transition is pruning. The way to allow God full access to work out this process is by abiding and remaining in him. The fruit we bore in the past, and the fruit we will bear in the future, are not harvests we can manufacture on our own. This fruit is from God. Apart from him we bear nothing but dried up dead branches.

I don’t want leftover fruit. I want fresh fruit to grow out of my life and the only way to accomplish that is to remain steadfast in Christ. He is the vine…he is the source and the resource…apart from him I can do nothing.

Recognizing this and embracing this process will set you up to move into your new identity and your new beginning with humility and grace.

The wilderness is not a final destination, and neither is the pruning season. We were not meant to live in either of these stages forever. There will be many more in-between seasons to navigate throughout our lives, just as there will be regular seasons of pruning. Walk slowly and rest in the gift of the pruning zone.  Allow God’s work to be accomplished, and keep your eyes focused on Jesus.

The Least.

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.”

Mark 12:41-43

She didn’t have much. In fact, she didn’t have anything of significant monetary value.

She was a widow, and she was poor.

And she was among the crowd of people coming to the temple to give their offerings. The wealthy made a big show of it, tossing their large sums of money into the temple treasury. She, on the other hand, made no demonstrative display of her gift when she dropped two small copper coins – such a coin was called a lepton, meaning “thin one” – into the treasury. This was not a fat offering. It was, literally, a very lean gift.

Perhaps, as Jesus and his disciples sat on the other side of this scene, nothing looked out-of-the-ordinary. I imagine there were a number of people, walking through the queue, waiting their turn to submit their offerings. This poor widow, most likely obscure in the hustle and bustle of the crowd around her, elicited no extra attention or admiration. She dropped her coins and moved along in the river of humanity.

But Jesus saw her. He didn’t just see her; he pointed her out. He paid significant attention to this woman, invisible to the world.

Jesus does that.

He sees the hidden treasures around us, and he redirects our focus. His heart is drawn to the least of these. He doesn’t praise them because of their lowly status, but he acknowledges and affirms their actions despite their status.

The widow woman, holding her entire earthly wealth in her hands, tossed it all into the offering.

She gave out of her poverty – the least of everyone.

Yet, Jesus said she gave the most.

The kingdom that Jesus taught about throughout his ministry was an upside-down – paradox to the human understanding of greatness – kind of kingdom.

If you want to be great, then you must become a servant – the least of these.

Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.”

Mark 9:35

When he made this statement to the disciples, he didn’t leave anything out. He was clear and direct. This wasn’t a coaching session on how to become a great leader. It was a difficult conversation speaking to the condition of the disciples’ hearts (the condition of our hearts as well) and expressing this hard-to-swallow kingdom mindset of lowering ourselves to title-less servants of Christ. He gave them no false promises that if they become the very last that they will be servant leaders of all. No. Jesus was very serious about this issue. In fact, rather than teach and express this significant kingdom principle by walking and talking, he sat them down. It was as if he was saying to them, “This is a lesson I don’t want you to miss. If you miss this, you miss everything.” He plainly and intentionally communicated that the greatest, in God’s sight, are the least: the ones who serve, and whose highest ambition is to serve like Christ.

And then he told them that if they sought for greatness in his Kingdom they must find it, not by being first, but by being last; not by being masters, but by being servants of all. It was not that Jesus abolished ambition. Rather, he recreated and sublimated ambition. For the ambition to rule, he substituted the ambition to serve. For the ambition to have things done for us, he substituted the ambition to do things for others.

William Barclay

This way of Jesus shoots straight to the heart. While the disciples were arguing over who would be the greatest, Jesus was always – always- redirecting their gaze…their attention…to the least. We cannot hold on to our self-righteousness when we sit this close to Jesus. His ways are so far beyond ours- the complete and utter opposite of our natural inclinations.

“They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Mark 12:44

The widow woman…who gave her “thin one” to God, gave more than any person who showed up to church that day. The wealthy gave out of their wealth. It is not a sacrifice when there is a deep reservoir to continue to draw from. She, on the other hand, gave all that she had…what might have been useful for oil, or flour, or some form of shelter. Her gift that day was a treasure far weightier than any sack of money poured into the temple bucket. In Christ’s upside-down kingdom, she would be considered “greatest”.

But I don’t think that this kind of greatness is a title that many of us are keen on snatching up. How many of us are truly prepared to be the least- to give an offering that won’t gain us significant earthly approval? How many of us are honestly willing to become servants without promise of promotion?

These are big questions.

This was what Jesus wanted his disciples to grasp.

It is what he wants us to internalize and hold firmly to today.

The greatest is Jesus.

We recognize that not one of us can carry the weight that he carried, so why do we attempt to place man on a scale of greatness when Jesus is part of the equation? Are any one of us prepared to take on the sin of the world and sacrifice our lives on a cross for the redemption of all mankind? It is difficult for me to lay down my life for my husband and family…I’m selfish, and I get tired and irritated and struggle with feelings of entitlement. Can you relate? Even when I do surrender and push aside my selfish will, I find I have to continuously lay my ambitions at the foot of the cross. This act of surrender is a daily act of obedience.

Greatness in God’s eyes is not the pursuit of greatness, but the pursuit of the cross-bearing life; choosing to lay our lives down for others and serving them with the willingness to sacrifice any hope of earthly greatness in the act of giving. It is about our hearts.

In both of these stories, we see that Jesus is shifting the paradigm. It has nothing to do with wealth and poverty in the natural sense, but about the wealth and poverty of the soul. How much are we willing to sacrifice and surrender to God? Greatness has nothing to do with titles and hierarchy, but about laying down our lives for the sake of others; becoming servants of all. Period.

There was a profound difference between a servant and a slave in biblical times. A slave was one who was owned by another person, taken against their will and forced into servitude. A servant, on the other hand, was a person who voluntarily chose to serve. Jesus came, not to be a slave, but he came on his own free will to serve…to give his life. And Jesus exhorted his disciples, and exhorts us today, not to live as slaves but to live as servants; freely giving our lives and our treasure, our gifts and our ambition to Jesus and his purposes.

When we place ourselves in proper alignment to Jesus Christ, we see that we really are the least. That even the greatest accomplishments and skills, gifts, and offerings we offer are like the widow woman’s lepton, “thin one”. While we can never match the sacrifice that Christ made for the world, we can take our two small copper coins – the little we do have – and give it all in service to Jesus. We can humble ourselves to the status of servants.

God honors the least. It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. The math will never add up…it will never equal the greatness that we so often seek. But it is the way of Jesus. It is the way of good. It is the hope this world has. I am so inspired to give my “thin one” to Jesus- to be counted as the least. If it draws me closer to Jesus – to his heart…to his character…to deeper intimacy – then let me be a servant of all.

Humility is the mark of Christ. It is the way of power used rightly. It is Godlike to serve in humility. He who sits on the throne was the servant of all while here, and on the throne he continues to serve us by his Spirit. We must know him well and deeply if his work is to be accomplished.

Diane Langberg, Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church

Self-care in a season of chaos.

When we moved to South Africa, I had come out of a very challenging season in Malawi. It was hard on all fronts – from helping our children transition, to navigating life in a foreign country, the ever-precarious visa process, the insurgence of Covid-19, to understanding a new organization and all of the intricate policies, procedures, and bureaucracy. It was hard. But, like I have said before, we were able to find creative ways to establish stability.

Still, when we arrived in South Africa, I felt like I had run a marathon and was standing at the starting line of yet another marathon. The decision for our move was, primarily, to get help for Jasper. We knew he had some significant developmental issues, and South Africa provided the much-needed resources to help him.

As I sat in our Airbnb one afternoon, completely exhausted and weary, I remember thinking: “Can one lose resiliency? Is it possible that I am not able to bounce back from challenges like I used to?” A friend of mine called me. She and I have known each other since high school, and we are both Third Culture Kids. She said to me, as I was thinking out loud, that the question of resiliency cannot be answered when one is in the middle of transition. She encouraged me to walk slowly and take it one day at a time.

I was beginning to feel like, perhaps, God was disciplining me- that all of this hard stuff we were facing and working through was because I had, somehow, upset and disappointed God. I was stressed out trying to determine if my own frustration and anger at some of the things we had experience had been a result of me not being a good enough Christian, missionary, wife, mother, etc. While I was grateful- deeply grateful- that God had brought us to a place where we could help Jasper, and we had even found incredible resources for him, and for our family, I couldn’t shake this feeling that I was somehow responsible for how hard the past year had been. And I was worried that I might not bounce back from it.

A few months later, I was on a Zoom call with a mentor of mine, sharing with her my fears, my worries, and doubts, and she said to me, in the most empathetic and kind way, “Amy, I think you need to walk in God’s love. His yoke is easy, and his burden is light. He is not disciplining you. He wants you to know that he loves you, and he is with you.” I can’t begin to explain how the combination of my friend’s words and this mentor’s words spoke life to me. They still do. I have a small sign that I received as a gift from this mentor before we moved overseas. It says, “You are loved”, and it is a gentle reminder of this truth that I see each day when I sit at my desk.

Walk in God’s love.

Be gentle with yourself.

Breathe.

Release these burdens and cares and rest in God’s presence.

Take it one day at a time.

Transition in a season of chaos brings a kind of weariness that is difficult to describe. It overwhelms and saturates so much of our lives. Too often we brush it off, or we blame ourselves for not being strong enough or resilient enough to handle the chaos, rather than recognize that we have limits. And it is okay to have limits. It is okay to say, “I’ve reached my capacity.”

Self-care in a season of chaos, for me, looks like:

1.     Waking up in the morning and reminding myself that I am loved by God.

2.     Loving my husband.

3.     Prioritizing my family.

4.     Homecooked meals.

5.     Handing over the things that are out of my control to God.

6.     Laughter with my family.

7.     Reading books that help me understand the process I am working through.

8.     Regulating social media.

9.     Speaking kind words to myself.

10.  Letting go of guilt when saying “no” to something is the healthy thing to do.

Transition is a season. It is not a lifestyle. The missionary life tends to be more transitory in nature than a regular occupation, but constant transition is not the norm, even for missionary life. It is a season; these seasons pass.

It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear…It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.

Marilyn Ferguson, American Futurist

Transition is the in-between. It’s the letting go and the reaching out with no clear sight of the new beginning. I would add to Marilyn Ferguson’s thought that we, as Christ followers, do have something – Someone – to hold on to. The season of transition breeds all kinds of internal restlessness, and it feels overwhelming when we are in the thick of it. However, we are not alone. As we learn to pivot in the chaos, we have someone in the storm keeping the boat from sinking. Jesus never leaves us. He promises that he has gone before us, and he is also in the middle of all the mess with us…standing strong.

Resting in his love and allowing his presence to carry us through the seas of the in-between, will give us the resilience we need to keep pressing on and moving forward.

It is okay to take care of yourself in these seasons of chaos. It is okay to hit “pause” and remind yourself that you are loved by God. Rather than try to figure out if you are doing it right, or doing it well, give yourself the gift of care – whatever that might look like for you. This is not a race…you don’t lose points for those moments you pause…stop…recalibrate. One of the greatest gifts you can give to yourself- and your family- through periods of transition is self-care. Eventually, you will find yourself on the other side of the trapeze.

They shouted, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” Matthew 20:29

Jesus was walking, talking, and teaching as was customary in Palestine for a Rabbi to teach as well as walk with their followers. Christ’s “students” were trying ever-so-hard to listen, straining their ears to hear what Jesus was saying, as two blind men were crying and pleading for Jesus’ attention.

These beggars were being disruptive and distracting.

The crowd was frustrated and told them to be quiet. There was no space in this paradigm for these men to have access to Jesus. But that did not restrain them. While the crowd tried to silence their pleas, they persisted. Rather than back off, they cried out louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

Can you imagine?

Have you ever been so desperate as to lose all sense of your status and place in society, to shed all decorum and comportment, that you would be willing to cry out, above the shushing crowd, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”?

What a sight that must of have been! I’ve been trying to imagine it in our post-modern, year-2023, world. The underprivileged or the over-privileged, stepping out of their subsequent roles, and being so desperate for Jesus that they would be willing to become the object of annoyance or shame from society. These two blind men, when given even the slightest hope of contact with the Messiah, did not sit back in unspoken, passive hope that Jesus would see them and notice them, but they cried out persistently for the attention of the Son of David. Would I be willing to do the same if I thought there might be a chance that Jesus could change my life?

While the crowd rebuked, Jesus stopped. He paused. He listened. He noticed. And he called them to come.

“What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. Matthew 20:32

Such a fascinating question: What do you want me to do for you?

It seems obvious, doesn’t it? “I’m blind. What do you think I want you to do for me?”

Blindness in that time and context relegated these men to a life of poverty. There were no government programs or schools for the blind, benefits or books written in braille, no therapies or medical technologies that a blind person could access in order to help them integrate into society. They had nothing.

Their persistence was understandable. And yet, Jesus still asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.” Matthew 20:33

They stated what they wanted- clearly and simply. There was no pause, no trying to find the right words, no guilt or shame.

They wanted to see.

Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him. Matthew 20:34

The blind men were so desperate that they had no problem causing a disturbance. They knew Jesus could heal them, and they couldn’t remain silent. When Jesus asked them what they wanted, he already knew, but he wanted them to declare it. Rather than hold this longing in their hearts and minds, Jesus’ question pushed them to speak out loud, and subsequently declare, that Jesus was the true Messiah, the only person who could meet this particular need. Their cries were not for money, which they could get from any passerby, but their cries were for healing, which could only come from a Savior.

And not just healing in the broad sense, but the request was very specific.  There was no ambiguity. They didn’t just ask Jesus to heal them; they were direct and said they wanted their sight.

Then, Jesus had compassion on them. Jesus looked at these two blind men, and his heart was moved. Out of compassion, Jesus touched them. He didn’t lay a hand on their heads or shoulders or hold their hands, but rather, he touched them where their need was – he touched their eyes, and they received their sight.

His compassion touched them at their point of need.

The persistence of these two blind men opened the opportunity for Christ to meet them – in their darkness – and heal them in a very specific and meaningful way. I suppose any healing from Christ would be meaningful, but that Jesus’ touch was so intentional, so directly on the point of pain, makes this miracle incredibly significant to the ones who received it.

As I’ve contemplated this story, I find myself encouraged to persist in prayer. To continue to reach out, cry out, and shout out as loudly as I can, to the One who can heal…to the one who can place his hands on the wounds of my life, and bring the restoration, the healing and the completeness that I need.

I think that we stop too soon in our prayers. I think we get discouraged when it seems that Jesus cannot hear us above the crowd. And I wonder if we just grow weary of asking. But what I believe this story tells us is that Jesus’ heart is for us, and his compassion moves us to him.

I cannot make a guarantee to anyone that if you just pray more persistently, the blind will see, the dead will rise, and the sick will be healed, but I can promise that the more we persist in our pursuit of Jesus – Son of David, Messiah and Savior – he will be there, and he will touch us. There is no question about that. His healing runs far deeper than our physical pains, wounds and disabilities. His healing makes us whole from the inside out.

I suppose we are all very much the two blind men in this miraculous story. However, our blindness is not physical, and our desperate pleas are not that we would be able to see trees and faces, animals and sky. But the healing we need is for the spiritual darkness to be lifted and our hearts to fully see Christ as our Savior. This is healing from the inside out. This is truly seeing. And this comes through our persistent prayers.

A mouth open in unceasing prayer will result in open eyes that see faith clearly. So, pray in the darkness, even if there seems to be no hope of light. When God, who is light, moves a poor sinner to plead and cry out with the commitment to continue until the blessing comes, he doesn’t even consider disregarding that poor crying heart. Perseverance in prayer is a sure sign that the day of opening the eyes of the blind is near.

Charles H. Spurgeon, “Life in Christ: Lessons from Our Lord’s Miracles and Parables”

Pray. Pray. And keep on praying.

Be persistent in prayer.

Trust God with the outcome.

His compassion will touch you, too, at your point of need.

As I watched the clock strike midnight, its hand leaving 2021 and tick-tock-ticking its way into 2022, I felt a wave of relief. Covid and transition left me feeling kind of empty. Rather than enter the new year with a bang, I mostly coasted in on fumes.

I came down with a fever on Christmas Day and spent the following week either in bed or on the couch. Sydney was with us for a very short period of time, and I desperately wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, in spite of the flu. By the time New Years’ Day arrived, my days were mush as I spent the first week of 2022 packing Christmas away and catching up on life.

My word for 2022 was “Whole”. As a family, we were on a trajectory of healing…processing and working through some hard-to-articulate wounds from the past few years. Joel and I both sensed, individually, that God had a very personal work he wanted to do in us and in our family. And he did just that. While I can’t say it was all neat and orderly, God was very much at work. There were many moments throughout 2022 that I honestly wondered what in the world God was doing because his work did not look like healing or wholeness. Yet, as I reflect on the year past, I do see God’s hand, and his handiwork.

Miracles happened. Not the big and audacious kind that we love to talk about, but the small and internal kind that water deeper growth and spiritual resilience. The kind of miracles that don’t always elicit external awe.

Miracles are still happening. Healing is a process, and it is still in process. I wish I could boast of some grandiose moment of instantaneous healing, but that is not the way in which God has chosen to work. Rather, he is taking our lives, moment-by-moment, and awaking our hearts to not just find personal healing, but to have an awareness of the much-needed healing in the lives of others. His work is never just for “us”, but for his glory and the benefit of others. If my pain can be a catalyst for connection and healing of another, then this pain is worth it all.

And it is not just the heart wounds that God uses, but the physical deficiencies that plague our bodies. Jackson, as we have openly shared, deals with a genetic eye condition by which his optic nerve is slowly atrophying which has caused significant visual impairment. Because we believe that God is a God who heals, we have prayed for complete healing. This supernatural kind of healing has not come. This is not to indicate that I have lost faith in God’s capabilities, but it is our present reality. I still pray and believe for healing, but likewise, I am praying God’s will…his most perfect will to be done in the life of Jackson…whatever that may look like.

I’ve asked myself multiple times this past year: “What if…”

What if the miracle is not Jackson’s eyesight being restored, but rather the miracle is learning to trust God’s goodness regardless of the outcome of our prayers? What if the greatest miracle of all in Jackson’s story is spiritual insight and sensitivity rather than physical sight?

What if our current circumstances do not change, or – even worse – get harder, do I still believe and trust that God is good?

What if the hope of seeing our dreams unfold never materializes? Can I still hold on to Jesus and trust his plan? Is Jesus really enough for me? Is this the miracle we are waiting for…simply Jesus?

The awe and wonder this side of 2022 is that Jesus never left us; his hand was always in the middle of the process.

The miracle of “wholeness” was not the absence of disappointment.

The miracle of “wholeness” was God’s complete presence in the midst of a really hard year.

Perhaps the most audacious prayer we can pray is, “God, give me the grace to accept hard things, give me the strength to endure unmet expectations, and give me your joy in perseverance.”

The miracle is not all the big answers to prayers.

The miracle is God’s grace, strength and joy in spite of our circumstances. It is Christ’s character being formed in us, and in turn, conforming our desires to his desires.

This truly is a miracle.

New year. New word. New focus.

This year my word is “Recalibrate”.

“Recalibrate” is not a word that I particularly like. It doesn’t immediately jump out to me or inspire me. It’s the kind of word that Joel would choose, or my dad. To me, it sounds very masculine, not very poetic (and I love poetic words!).

Still, at the beginning of December, when my thoughts turned to the anticipation of a new year, this word kept coming to mind. I couldn’t shake it. And when I slowed down long enough to look a little more intentionally at the word “recalibrate”, I started to see its significance for my life.

In order to appreciate the meaning of “recalibrate”, we have to take a look its root word: “calibrate”.

Calibrate is a verb. It indicates the act of measuring something. Merriam-Webster defines “calibrate” as “to make standard (as a measuring instrument) by finding out and correcting for the differences from an accepted or ideal value”.

In other words, when we calibrate something, we are looking at an accepted value and then correcting what we have in order to fit that ideal. When this something begins to slip off track, when it drifts off course, we do the act of recalibrating…getting it back on track.

I think the most significant part of the definition is looking at the “ideal value”. I have to ask myself, what is the “ideal value” that I am recalibrating myself to? This is something to ponder.

In our noisy world, polluted with opinions, self-help books and podcasts all declaring their own ideal value, it is critical to pull away from it all in order to gain clarity. The true picture of what is ideal can get fuzzy if we are looking into our culture for direction. The ideal value will never be found in a program or a person. Man-made ideals will continuously leave us fractured and inadequate. Cultures and systems and structures built around personalities and preferences will only lead to discouragement, fallout and failure. People get hurt in personality-driven ideals.

So, where do we find this “ideal value”? To what are we calibrating and recalibrating ourselves? We have definitely drifted off course, so what do we do and where do we go from here?

In the process of growing up…getting older (and hopefully wiser), I am more and more convinced that the simplicity of God’s word is the compass that keeps us on the trajectory of our true north…our true path…our ideal value. Even as a Christ-follower, it is easy to veer off and into ideals that are not truly God’s ideal. They may not be bad, but they are not the best.

To find the “ideal value” we look to the “ideal”, and that is Jesus Christ. If you are a Christ- follower, like me, then the Holy Spirit dwells within us. We are image bearers of our Savior. The Bible tells us that the world will know us by our fruit. The outpouring of our lives should be the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness and self-control (Galatians 5:22). Christ embodied each one of these…he was a living picture of the fruit of the Spirit. Our “ideal value” is to be the same…to pursue a life that models Christ, and Christ alone.

We must re-calibrate to Christ’s “ideal value”.

In addition to this, Christ has given us the priceless gift of discernment: the Holy Spirit. I worry that this gift has gotten shoved into a corner and is becoming more and more obsolete in our fast-paced world that yearns for instant gratification and celebrity platforms. Discernment calls us to pause, pray, and consider. We can’t rush wisdom and discernment. We have to be willing to patiently wait as God brings clarity and peace.

But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.

John 16:13

The gift of discernment is the act of listening to that still, small voice inside of us (the Holy Spirit) that warns us when something is off, that brings conviction when we have veered off course, and leads us gently along the path that God has prepared for us – it is the gift of truth. The Holy Spirit guides us in all truth, which sets us free as we follow Christ. This discernment ensures that we are calibrated to the “ideal value”; it is the “measuring instrument” that keeps us on course. We cannot do this life, this God-honoring work of discipleship, without it.

And this is where, and to what, I feel driven to recalibrate. This obedience – a long obedience in the same direction (Eugene Peterson) – to the leading, prompting, directing and ministry of the Holy Spirit within me. This is not some super-spooky-natural new age practice. It is, frankly, the fundamentals of living the Christian life. And this is where I sense the Lord leading me. Recalibrate to the “ideal value”, which is Jesus Christ. No more people pleasing, no more playing a role that doesn’t fit, and no more living outside my values. This year will be about listening more intentionally to the still, small voice inside of me, and recalibrating my attention and my life to God’s ideal value.

And, my hope and sincere desire, is to open up my heart and share very transparently my journey here. If you have been broken, my prayer is that, in this space, you will find a safe place to land. If you have been hurt, may you find refuge and healing through Jesus Christ, and in the safety of this community. And if you, too, feel the urgency to recalibrate, may grace abound as you seek to follow and obey, to set your eyes on the ideal value, and allow the Holy Spirit to do His ongoing work of aligning you to the truth. This year promises blessings and challenges. And it also promises God’s faithfulness and goodness each step of the way.

Recalibrating in 2023.

Tim Keller likens our typical Christian approach to forgiveness as a type of “therapeutically- motivated culture” of forgiveness. We forgive in order to feel better – to attain inner peace – and so to also ensure forgiveness from God. Without embracing the reality of what forgiveness costs, we tend to take action for personal relief, healing, and mental rest. However, how often do we count the actual cost of forgiveness? Truly? We feel that cost deep, deep down, but we struggle to articulate the negative feelings because it doesn’t always sound Christlike and selfless. It can sound very self-preserving and, perhaps, angry.

Our Christian faith sets us apart from other religions in that we are called to forgive, and to extend love and grace, even in the face of hostility. However, we often fall short in our approach to true forgiveness. We tend to stay on the superficial level of releasing our wounds from others in order to feel better. But that is not the full picture of forgiveness. That is only a part of the process of forgiveness.

In his breakdown of the story of the wicked servant found in the book of Matthew, Tim Keller writes this in his book “Forgive”:

The request by the servant for “patience” – makrothumeo, a Greek word that literally means ‘to be slow to boil or melt’ – hints at the cost of forgiveness. The older English translation for makrothumeo was ‘long-suffering’. Patience is the ability to bear suffering rather than give in to it. To forgive someone’s debt to you is to absorb the debt yourself. If a friend borrows your car, totals it through reckless driving, and hasn’t any ability to remunerate you financially, you may say, “I forgive you,” but the price of the wrong does not evaporate into the air. You either find the money to buy a new car or you go without one. Either way, forgiveness means the cost of the wrong moves from the perpetrator to you, and you bear it.

Forgiveness, then, is a form of voluntary suffering. In forgiving, rather than retaliation, you make a choice to bear the cost.

True forgiveness is bearing the cost.

Jesus’ example to us of bearing the cost is the price he paid on the cross. Forgiveness is identifying with Christ’s sacrifice. We, thankfully, will never know the pain and suffering he experienced as he took on the sin of the world and paid the debt (our debt) of sin and evil. There is no earthly experience, not even the worst we can imagine, that can compare to the experience of Christ’s death on the cross. It was more than the physical act of suffering. It was the separation from God and the weight of sin. It is more than any of us could ever bear, and he voluntarily suffered on our behalf.

Christ is our example.

I find it fascinating that Christ, as he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his arrest, requested that God would “take this cup” from him.

“Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Mark 14:36

In his human form, he sought some relief from the price to pay. He cried out to God, “everything is possible for you (God, find another way to do this), please take it away.” But then he committed his will to God and stated, “Not my will, but yours be done.”

What this says to me is that when we feel that pang of hurt, grief, and hesitation to forgive the one who has wronged us, we are not feeling bad or non-Christian-like feelings. We are feeling very real and normal feelings. Who truly relishes in voluntary suffering?

And yet…in spite of the cost, Christ submitted himself to the will of God. Quite bluntly, if we want to follow after Christ- to identify with him in every way- then we, too, must surrender. We must choose to suffer and bear the cost.

This, I believe, is why forgiveness – true forgiveness – is so hard. I recognize this process is often missing in our Christian worldview. We seek, as even the world does, for inner healing and the personal satisfaction that comes from “letting go”, but there comes a point when this kind of forgiveness just isn’t enough or isn’t working for us anymore. We are seeing the ramifications of this approach in our world today. It is not enough to simply say “forgive and let go.” I believe this is due to the fact that that cost must be counted. We must allow ourselves permission to identify and accept what forgiveness is costing us.

But if we stop here we are still cutting the process of forgiveness short. There is more. We must look upward. We must look to Jesus.

It is when we do this that we also recognize forgiveness cannot take place without the supernatural grace extended to us through Jesus Christ. We cannot bear the cost without that. We are too human and too selfish. True forgiveness requires both the recognition of the cost and the dependence upon Christ’s supernatural empowerment to then bear the cost.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs – heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.

Romans 8:14-17

When we choose this voluntary suffering, we are sharing in Christ’s sufferings. Much of the work is internal as we choose to release our pain and our hurt into the hands of Jesus. And oftentimes this internal work is never known. Not very often do we see the kind of justice that we would prefer. We do this act of forgiving without fanfare and without a cheering squad. But we are not alone; Christ is with us, and he is holding us.

This is not to say that justice should be neglected. But the pursuit of justice without true forgiveness often becomes retaliation, and that should never be our motive.  We need clear discernment between the two.

To conclude my thoughts on the cost of forgiveness, I just want to add one thing. When we truly grasp the depth of Christ’s love for us when he chose to suffer on the cross for the redemption and forgiveness of mankind, it is difficult to stand in our justification of withholding forgiveness from others. I am not excusing the acts done against any person or persons, but I can only speak personally; when I encounter this transformative power of grace, love and forgiveness from God, there is nothing left in me but incredible awe and fear. Not terror or anxiety, but amazement at God’s goodness to me. And, from that goodness, I find my heart more inclined to forgive. It is a process, for sure, but a process that draws us closer to the heart of God, and deeper in identifying with his suffering. This is precious to me.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am deeply grateful for the price that Christ paid for the forgiveness of my sins. Where I fail, he brings redemption. Where I fall short, he fills in the gaps. And I am thankful for the example he set for me.

While the price of forgiveness almost seems too high at times, he showed us how to do it. And he promises his grace to see us through.

“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:32

God sheds light.

In John chapter 8, Jesus is having a conversation with a group of Jews. They are struggling to comprehend what Jesus is trying to communicate to them, that if they believe in him, the truth will be clear to them because he is the Son of God, sent by the Father. Freedom will come through trust and faith in Christ. But they are wrestling with it. They seem to be steeped in, and blinded by, darkness.

He says: “If you hold to my teaching (teaching that comes directly from God) you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31, 32

What this tells me is that if we hold on to the teachings of Christ, if we align ourselves to the Scriptures, if we make that our pursuit and passion, then we are true followers- disciples- of Christ. He calls us his disciples. And through that act of following and obeying, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free.

The greatest way for us to walk in the light – in freedom – is to walk in step with the Word of God. This requires effort on our part to abide regularly with Christ, and to allow his Word to dictate and direct our path. The minute something begins to bring that all-to-familiar unsettling feeling, we can lean in harder to Jesus and his Word. He always brings clarity.

Psalm 119:105 says: “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light for my path.”

The Message version says it this way:

“By your words I can see where I’m going; they throw a beam of light on my dark path. I’ve committed myself and I’ll never turn back from living by your righteous order. Everything’s falling apart on me, God; put me together again with your Word.”

“Put me together again with your Word.”

I love that.

When we’ve been through the dark places, when we find ourselves stumbling about in confusion, ambiguity, and brokenness, it is the truth that will shed light and bring freedom. It is always and forever the Word of God that will put us back together again.

When we are falling apart. When we are swimming in grief. We can lean hard into God’s word, conforming our lives to Him and His heart.

There is no guarantee that you and I will never encounter dark and painful seasons. I wish that wasn’t so, but we live in a dark and broken world. The good news is that we do not need to fear it or succumb to it. We can engage the darkness with grace and truth.

Where there is darkness, God sheds light.

Where God is, there is his light.

We can walk in the light.

We can walk in his truth.

And when it seems like we are falling apart we can call out to God who’s word will put us together again.