Category: 2022 Lent Devotions

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

A big “if”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 30, 2022. Photo by Paul Keiffer on Unsplash

And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”  One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” (Luke 23:35-39)

Scoffing. Mocking. Railing. Jesus gets it from the rulers, from the soldiers, and even from another criminal being executed alongside of him. What kind of king is this? He’s not much of a Christ if he can’t even save himself! At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus got questioned by the devil,”If you’re the Christ…” Now he gets it from the public. “If you’re a king…”

We could easily be a part of that crowd. We’ve got lots of practice criticizing people and finding fault with others. It’s bound to seep into our thoughts and conversations with and about God. You wouldn’t be the first. God has been getting negative reviews for a long, long time. Moses complained, “These people you gave me are impossible.” Jeremiah demanded to know why God was going easy on the wicked. Habakkuk accused God of slacking. From prison John the Baptist wondered out loud if Jesus was really the Christ. Job blew off steam, saying, “Where’s God when I need him?” Elijah said, “I quit.”

Who hasn’t wondered why tragedies happen to decent, kind people? Who hasn’t also wondered why God hasn’t dealt with people who obviously need to be punished? As soon as we begin down that path, we’ll eventually arrive at the same place. We’ll be asking, “If your are the king…” We’ll begin railing, “If you’re the Christ…”

Is that the way you think we should address the one we call Lord? Probably not.

Jesus will sometimes turn this around and challenge us, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (John 14:15). Yeah, that will make you squirm. So will this: “If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed…nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20). How do you like being on the other side of the question?

Jesus had nothing to prove to bystanders, rulers, soldiers, criminals or even the devil himself. Jesus is the Christ, he is the king, and he is able to save. But in order to rescue us, he’ll have to dive into the deep end of death to fish us out and revive us. He doesn’t need saving. I do. You do. Jesus will not let a senseless dare lure him away from his mission to save. Hallelujah!

I know you’ve saved me, Jesus. And that’s all I need to know.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

The game

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 29, 2022. Photo by Robert Coelho on Unsplash

And they cast lots to divide his garments. (Luke 23:34)

Are you feeling lucky?

A lot of people do. The longest lines at the convenience and grocery stores are for lottery tickets. Scratch offs show up as gifts in Christmas stockings, Easter baskets, and Halloween trick-or-treat bags. Americans spend about $80 billion every year on lotteries.

One lucky person on the day of Jesus’ crucifixion would win his clothes. After stripping Jesus and nailing him to the cross, there wasn’t much left for the soldiers to do other than wait. To pass the time they played a game kind of like rolling dice. “They cast lots to divide his garments” (Luke 23:34). Hundreds of years before, the psalmist had written about this moment. “They divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots” (Psalm 22:18).

We make everything a game. We yell, “Shotgun!” when it’s time to get in the car. Kids taunt each other, “I beat you!” You subtly rev your engine waiting for the light to change. The neighbor makes sure you notice the new boat in his driveway. Or you casually mention now much that new grill cost you.

When life is a game, the only thing that matters is winning. Everything is a competition. You have to finish first. You have to be the best even if that means putting someone down. You might have to cheat, or at least bend the rules. You have to come out on top.

Somewhere along the line you discover (or you will discover) that life is not just a game. In our quest to be king of the hill, someone always gets hurt. We get pushed aside, tripped, and stepped on. It’s no fun anymore. Sure, someone wins. But many more lose.

Jesus never plays the game. He’s not out to win. He came to lose. He came to give up his life. The crucified Christ was crushed by a stampede of greedy and selfish people like us who just have to win.

Jesus doesn’t play the game. He stops and helps other people get up. He encourages them to keep going, even walking alongside of them. Yet he comes out on top. His name is above all others, the first one you see on the printout of finishers. How about that? He was right. “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35).

Lord, I am so tired of playing the game. Thanks for showing me a different way to come out on top. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Cover me

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 28, 2022. Photo by Stefan Spassov on Unsplash

Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ (Luke 23:30)

This is Jesus talking to all those who were mourning and lamenting for him as he walked the Via Dolorosa to Golgotha and his crucifixion. “Just wait,” he warns them. The day will soon come when they will flee Jerusalem, run for their lives, and look for safety in the hills. God’s judgment on Jerusalem was imminent and unavoidable. Yes, the rejection and execution of Jesus is bad. But you haven’t seen anything yet!

When wildfires have threatened our community or hurricanes have approached, many “head for the hills,” that is, they evacuate and seek refuge. In the wake of storms, houses along the shore are rebuilt on stilts, their own private “higher ground,” where they will be safe. The psalmist seeks similar security: “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?”

He answers his own question, “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1,2). That makes sense. Isaiah talked about this. “It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills” (Isaiah 2:2). Get it? The Lord himself is that hill where you will find security when everything is unraveling. “Under his wings you will find refuge” (Psalm 91:4).

Don’t feel sorry for Jesus. Instead, come to him for rest for your soul. Flee to him for mercy. In his suffering and death you will find the love you’re looking for. At the cross you find the perfect love that casts out fear. You’ll find all that in him, and nowhere else.

Everyone has those days when we just want to pull the covers over our heads and stay in bed, reluctant to face the world out there. The tragedies are too real, the temptations are too strong, and our resolve too quickly dissolves. Then we remember. We remember the promise that love, his love, covers a multitude of sins. We can take his covering – atonement – with us as we step into our day.

How wonderful to hear our Lord say to us, “I’ve got you covered!”

Cover me, Lord.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Tears

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 27, 2022. Photo by Kat J on Unsplash.

There followed [Jesus] a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. (Luke 23:27)

When do you find yourself in a crowd of people mourning and lamenting? Funerals, for sure. Cemeteries, too. Powerful movie moments can bring an audience to tears. You might be sitting in church when tears begin to well up. Or with a loved one struggling to breathe in hospice.

You can feel that way at a celebration. The absence of a loved one at a birthday party punches a hole of sadness into the joy of the occasion. They were there in the past. But now they’ve died. Or they refused to come.

When Jesus takes the Via Dolorosa (way of suffering), it is the beginning of Passover, a remembrance and celebration of how God saved his people from slavery in Egypt. That celebration now has a hole of sadness in it as everyone realizes the price of salvation. Now they realized that the blood of innocent lambs that stained the doorframes of ancient Israelite homes was a foreshadowing of the blood-stained of Jesus’ cross.

We work very hard to get past grief. We mourn the loss of family and friends, jobs and careers, health and ability. We just want to get it over with. We just want to get on with life. Easier said than done. Just when you think you’ve got it licked, you’ll find a little reminder, hear a song, or walk into a place and it all comes rushing back.

Perhaps mourning and lamenting aren’t something to be over, but something you learn to live with. (Please don’t confuse me with a psychologist. I’m just writing a devotion.) Just like the crowd we learn to live with the mourning and lamenting that comes with the Christ. No matter why we follow Jesus, we always end up at the cross. Whether you come to him for healing, rest, peace, or truth, you will end up at the cross. It is a sobering reminder of your sin for which he died. It is also a powerful reminder of the depth of his love for you. Don’t get over it. It will teach you how to live.

Lord, I’ll never get over how much you love me. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Carrying a cross

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 26, 2022. Photo by Geralt on pixabay.

As they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus. (Luke 23:26)

It sounds like Simon had just gotten back to town when he’s forced to carry Jesus’ cross to the place of crucifixion. In the wrong place at the wrong time, he’s dragged into the passion of our Lord.

I wonder if Simon knew who Jesus was? Did he know what happened in the Jerusalem over the past few days? Would he be proud or ashamed to tell this story in the future? Did anyone know Simon and see him carrying Jesus’ cross? Did he have to explain what he was doing?

I wonder how much the cross weighed? Was it just the cross piece, kind of like carrying a four by four post. That’s got some weight to it. Or was it a whole cross, a couple of pieces of wood to drag the half mile to Golgotha? Was it new, unused wood? Or was it stained with the blood of those who had been crucified on it in the past? Were there already holes where the nails had been driven though hands and feet? I’v got so many questions.

On a few medical mission trips, members of our team got carried away when packing large suitcases filled with medication and hygiene items for the clinics. We often had to help each other drag multiple fifty pound duffles through airports, customs, and security checkpoints. Lifting that load into a car is one thing. Dragging it hundreds of yards is another!

When I read about Simon, I can help but think of Jesus’ words, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Here he teaches that discipleship is not about what you’re going to get, but what you’re giving up. Ultimately, it means giving up your life to find it again in Christ. Treasure in heaven is hard to get hold of when your hands are full of the things of this life. Something has to give.

If Jesus came to visit, I’d pick him up at the airport. I would grab his suitcase from the baggage conveyor and pull it out to my car. If we went out to eat, I would pick up the tab.

Carrying his cross might not be so bad. When you think about it, Jesus carries my cross, with all my sin, guilt and shame. In exchange, I get to carry his, a source of grace and forgiveness. His cross is so much lighter!

Lord, I’m ready to let go and hold on. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

“I’d like to kill you.”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 25, 2022. Photo by Abhishek Singh on Unsplash

They kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” (Luke 23:21)

It is very hard to imagine myself joining in with a crowd demanding someone’s execution. Yet in the courts, prosecutors say, “The people are seeking the death penalty.” Protestors outside prisons hold up signs demanding the death of a convicted criminal. A dummy hung from a tree and set on fire expresses the intent of a mob. Old wanted posters promised rewards for an outlaw brought in “dead or alive.”

The Jewish leaders have brought Jesus to Pilate with charges of sedition and treason. They accuse Jesus of challenging the authority of Caesar and even calling himself a king. Neither Pilate nor Herod is impressed with Jesus. They’re ready to punish him and let him go.

But the crowd shouts over and over again, “Crucify him.” They will accept nothing less than Jesus’ execution.

Sometimes we casually toss around the idea of killing someone. When somebody spills something you and you exclaim, “I’m going to kill you!” Or you’re late, and you just know that your mom or dad is going to kill you. “If looks could kill…”

The word just kind of slips out. But it also reveals something about us. Something inside us fast forwards past hitting back or getting revenge right to the extreme – taking a life. When you think about it, it’s scary to think that we might be capable of that very thing. And of course, we are. The very first sin outside of the Garden of Eden is murder. Cain gets angry and kills his brother. It’s not tossing words or rolling on the ground fighting. It’s the big one.

When Jesus spoke of anger, he placed it under the fifth commandment, “You shall not murder.” Our anger condemns us. Our temper makes us liable to judgment. We very much want to wrest vengeance away from God and take care of people problems ourselves.

Just about every discussion about anger includes the mention that Jesus himself got angry. This is true. But that was an isolated occasion. And he didn’t kill anyone. And you aren’t Jesus. So I’m not sure the comparison is valid.

When a couple of toddlers get together, they may play well together for a while. But they may also grab a toy away from the other. Such behavior can lead to pushing, hitting, biting, and eventually crying. Young children are out for blood in their own way. When we grow up, we usually learn to control the pushing, hitting, and biting. But we lash out in other ways, ignoring, snubbing, insulting, and suing each other, in effect saying, “I’d like to kill you.”

Jesus comes to take all our anger and hatred on himself. He lets sinful nature take its course and not only demand his death, but actually carry it out. He helps us see that death really doesn’t get us what we want.

What we want is life. And that’s what his death will bring.

Lord, sometimes I’m so angry. And that’s why you died. I’m humbled. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

We’ll take Barabbas

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 24, 2022.

But they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”— a man who had been thrown into prison for an insurrection started in the city and for murder. (Luke 23:18-19)

OK, this is crazy. Why would they want Barabbas, a murderer, back on the street? When we capture a murderer, we want them put away for life – or worse. When they are released on a legal technicality we are incensed. How could that be justice? How could that be right?

Can you think of any reason why you might choose Barabbas over Jesus? I can think of several. First, you want insurrection. You want a rebellion. You’ve been waiting for someone to stand up to the Romans. Jesus isn’t going to do that. But Barabbas will. He already has.

And maybe Barabbas didn’t do it. Someone lied and he ended up in jail. That’s not justice. He should go free.

It’s possible you personally know Barabbas. As far as you know, he’s not such a bad guy. OK, so maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, made a few mistakes. Who hasn’t? He was a friend. He took care of his mom. He was there for you in the past. Now he needs your help, so you’re there for him.

And this Jesus? You’ve never seen him before in your life. You don’t know anything about him. But you can tell he’s not popular. So you go along with the crowd. “Take him away!”

It’s ironic that according to Luke, the only member of the pro-Jesus party in attendance is Pilate. Three times, Pilate said Jesus wasn’t guilty of any of their charges. Pilate is ready to let him go. Every other voice calls for Barabbas’ release. It’s a landslide.

The Philadelphia Flyers won the Stanley Cup in 1974 and 1975. Their unofficial nickname was the “Broad Street Bullies.” They were the bad guys we (I grew up there) all rooted for. The roster included players who deliberately committed penalties and started fights to intimidate their opponents. For a few seasons, it worked and they won.

In this moment, Barabbas wins. He gets to go free while Jesus is handed over to be crucified. But it’s just the first period. There’s a lot of time left in the game.

I can’t wait for overtime, Lord. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Miracles

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 23, 2022. Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. (Luke 23:8)

So where have you been for the last three and a half years, Herod? You’re the ruler of Galilee and you never got a chance to see Jesus? Entire towns showed up to see Jesus. Crowds followed him from place to place. You could have caught his show at any number of places.

And let’s face it. That’s all it really was for Herod. A show. Herod wasn’t a believer. He was curious, but he was just part of that “wicked and adulterous generation” who always wanted a miraculous sign.

Do we ever come to see the “Jesus show?” Do we ever come to church simply to be entertained by musical talent or an inspirational speaker? Sure we do. And that’s just fine with the church, who will strive to provide entertainment and inspiration so that you’ll come to the “Jesus show.”

I know that’s harsh. But in our culture, we do expect to be entertained. We expect to be entertained all the time. And while there’s nothing wrong with entertainment, that’s not why Jesus came. He didn’t come to do card tricks or make balloon animals or make an elephant disappear. He came to save us from sin and death. He performed miracles to verify that he was the Savior. He performed miracles to help those who were suffering from so many different ailments. He performed miracles because of his great power and his great love. But he never played to the crowd.

There are plenty of folks who would like to see a miracle. I’m one of them. A wise friend commented, “There are miracles all around us, if you just take time to look for them.” How true. We can talk to just about anyone anywhere in the world at anytime during the day. That’s miraculous. A baby is born, breathes, cries, looks up at you, and smiles. What a miracle! The human eye can distinguish over 10 million different colors. Whoa. A really, really good cup of coffee smells and tastes so good. Same goes for bacon and freshly baked bread. Oh, yeah. You wake up fifteen seconds before your morning alarm goes off. How does that happen?

There are a lot of people who would like to see Jesus, too. I’m one of them. But not just for a miracle. Forever and forever.

Thanks for all the miracles, Lord. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Nothing to worry about

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 22, 2022. Photo by Altin Ferreira on Unsplash

Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” (Luke 23:3)

I always enjoy it when someone comes up to me at the store and starts talking to me like I worked there. Once in a while, in a shirt and tie, I suppose I might look like a manager or something. If I know where something is, I’ll point you in the right direction. If not, I’ll admit, “I’m just shopping. I don’t work here.”

Jesus must have been a sight. He was dressed just like any other disciple. His hands were bound from his arrest. He was soaked in sweat from his agonizing hour of prayer in the garden. They beat him, so he might have a few cuts and bruises, maybe even a swollen eye. You and I would want to know, “What happened to you?”

The elders, chief priests and scribes said, “He’s telling everyone not to give tribute to Caesar. He called himself Christ, the king.” I can picture Pilate looking Jesus over, raising an eyebrow and asking, “So you’re the king of the Jews, huh?” If he was, he wasn’t much of a threat to anyone. Look at him. And he’s not much of a leader. His own people roughed him up and turned him in. Where were his followers? Where was his army? Is this some kind of joke? If this is the extent of the revolt, we’ve got nothing to worry about.

Pharaoh looked at Moses and thought, “I’ve got nothing to worry about.” Goliath looked at David and thought, “I’ve got nothing to worry about.” A bald, blind Samson? Nothing to worry about. They were soon proved wrong.

However, you and I can look to Jesus and say the same thing. “I’ve nothing to worry about.” In a storm? He commands the wind and waves. Terminal illness? He wakes up the dead. Food and clothing? Just look at the birds and the flowers. Don’t know what to say? He’ll cue you. Run out of wine? He’s got the good stuff. Feeling overwhelmed? He says, “Here, take my yoke.”

It’s ironic that Jesus can bring out the same response from those of faith and those who doubt. He’s not a threat. But he is the Savior. He looks like us. But his words are filled with power.

Feeling good about yourself? You think you’ve got nothing to worry about. When all you can do is whisper, “Lord, have mercy,” he lets you know you have nothing to worry about.

So which is it? Is Jesus so insignificant that you have nothing to worry about? Or is he so significant that you have nothing to worry about?

Thanks for being a big deal, Lord. Amen.