Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Breathtaking

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotions for April 3, 2022. We will all have a moment like that, when body and soul separate.

Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. (Luke 23:46)

If you’re a fan of Martin Luther’s morning and evening prayers, you’ve often prayed, “Into your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things.” Just like Jesus. It may or not be our final prayer, but it is a reassuring way to open our eyes first thing in the morning and close them before we fall asleep at night. Our lives are in his hands.

We will all have a moment like that, when body and soul separate. We may be awake and aware like Jesus. We may be asleep when that happens. It may happen suddenly, without warning. Family and friends may be gathered around us. Or we may be alone. We don’t know how or when, but we will all breathe our last.

I don’t remember my first breath, but I probably wasn’t very happy about it. Most of us let out a nice loud healthy cry when we are born. Our lives are filled with breathing from that moment on. We’ll take big breaths to blow up balloons, play musical instruments, and swim underwater. We’ll breathe in some wonderful smells along with some stinky odors. We’ll breathe heavily when walking up a flight of stairs or running around a track. We’ll take more than 672 million breaths in our lifetime. And one of them will be our last.

That’s a sobering truth. It’s also the reason Jesus took a first and last breath. He came to suffer and die for us. But his last breath wasn’t actually his last. On the third day his lungs again filled with air and he came back to life. He rose so that we, too, would breathe again, at the resurrection. And there will never be a last breath again!

How long can you hold your breath? Long enough to make your hiccups go away? Long enough to change a messy diaper? Long enough to swim an entire length of the pool? Long enough to drive all the way though a tunnel?

That’s a crazy way to think of death, isn’t it? It’s just like holding your breath until the trumpet sounds and Christ comes in glory to raise us from the dead. The glory of that day won’t take your breath away. It will give you new, eternal breath.

Into your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

In the darkness

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for April 2, 2022. Photo by DerTobiSturmjagd on Pixabay

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. (Luke 23:44-45).

There are many reasons why you might find yourself in the dark.

It might be nighttime. But you’re still awake. Something from your day is still haunting you. You dread what’s coming up tomorrow. Your body feels so tired, but your mind has gotten its second wind.

Perhaps the power is out. There’s no glow from all your digital clocks. Without AC, the room is stuffy. No rays of light sneak in through the blinds from the streetlights. It’s dark.

You’re in the dark. It seems like everyone else knows what’s going on. But no one told you. Did they forget? Or did they purposely leave you out?

It’s different in the dark. It’s harder to drive. You trip over the sleeping dog you didn’t see. No one can see you sitting there. Noises you don’t notice during the day seem so loud in the dark – a snoring dog, the thermostat click, or the ice cube maker.

Even though it’s noon, it’s dark at Golgotha. Is it an eclipse of the sun? Are ominous dark storm clouds blocking the sunlight? We don’t know. Darkness shrouds the passion, threatening the only real light in this world. It casts a powerful shadow over the one who announced, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). What will happen when he breathes his last? What will happen when that light goes out?

Yes, we think about that, too. What will happen when we shut our eyes for the last time? What will happen when they close the lid of our coffin? There is no darker darkness than the darkness of death. For Jesus, it’s just moments away. Maybe for us, too. You never know.

Small LED lights built into wall outlet plates come on when I turn off the lights at night. They safely guide my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. They get me past the sleeping dog and into the kitchen for a glass of water.

In much the same way, God declares, “Let there be light” in the pre-creation darkness. His promises guide me safely through the gloomy news of wars, disease, disasters, and death. His words are just like the first glow of morning in the pre-dawn sky. His voice reminds me that the darkness never lasts. The clouds part, the power comes back on, the sun rises, and the son rises.

So I can close my eyes and sleep. When it’s time, I’ll close my eyes in death. And it will be OK. Because when I open them, it will be light again.

Thanks for being in the darkness, Lord.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Remember

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for April 1, 2022. Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

“Remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42).

One day, I guess the conversation will go like this, “Hey, Jesus, remember me? We spent that whole day together. I was the nice criminal, the one who didn’t rail at you all morning. We talked about Paradise, remember? And here we are!”

So when you are suffering the consequences of your actions, are you going to be nasty towards Jesus or respectful? Do you challenge him or confess to him? Do you taunt him or pray to him?

Jesus met a lot of people in three-plus years of ministry. Crowds met him in every town he passed through. Do you think he remembered every encounter, every healing, every question, every face? I think he did.

He knew me before I were born. He knows where I am, what I’m thinking about, where I’m headed, and when I will get there (Psalm 119). He knows the number of hairs on my head (Luke 12:7). He knows about every sparrow that falls to the ground (Luke 12:6). He remembers. He remembers me.

I’m the one who has trouble remembering. I forget his promises and let worry and fear get a foothold in my mind. I forget his faithfulness in the past when I am concerned about the future. I forget to ask him for what I need. I forget to thank him for what I have.

I am impressed at this criminal’s faith. He knows Jesus is going places. Everyone else thinks Jesus is a poor excuse for a king. But this man knows Jesus has a kingdom. He knows he deserved his time on the cross. He knows Jesus is innocent. He knows Jesus is going to make it big one day. One day, he’ll see Jesus on the throne.

And maybe Jesus will have a few minutes for him. “Remember what it was like that day? Yeah, it was brutal. I don’t want to ever go through that again. And how about that darkness? That was creepy.” No one else could have this conversation with Jesus. Only these two experienced that day at The Skull. Only these two could sit and talk about that day over a glass of wonderful wine (Isaiah 25:6).

What unique experiences have you had with Jesus? Ponder that for a few moments. What moments, good or bad, have you two, and only you two, experienced? How about the birth of one of your children? A final moment with a loved one. Getting lost. While many experience similar moments, your life is unique to you. And he was there with you.

What memories have you created with Jesus?

I can’t wait to reminisce with you, Lord.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

I didn’t even know

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 31, 2022. Photo by KTMD ENTERTAINMENT on Unsplash

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:39).

I don’t believe we can truly begin to understand forgiveness until we hear these words Jesus speaks from the cross. His own people have rejected him. The crowds called for his crucifixion. Spikes are driven through his hands and feet. He will not be going anywhere until he has died.

In that moment Jesus practiced what he preached. He prayed for those who were hurting him (Matthew 5:44). He interceded for those who executed him, just as Isaiah said he would (Isaiah 53:12). He forgave them.

When I hurt, forgiveness is rarely on my mind. Sometimes prayer is, but I am usually praying for myself. “Make the hurt go away!” Pain takes over my thoughts, words and actions. It blinds me to everything else.

Jesus reacts so differently. His pain shifts his attention outside of himself. His pain opens his eyes to those who have no idea what they have just done. He pleads for mercy – for those who are killing him.

I probably have no idea how many people I’ve hurt. Something I said. Something I didn’t say. Someone I laughed at. Someone I ignored. Some were friends. Some I didn’t even know. Do you think Jesus would pray for me? Or for you?

The bible says that Jesus is interceding for us at the right hand of God. He’s advocating for you and me. He’s working out a deal with God, mediating a new covenant, so that we are forgiven for unknown as well as known sins.

I’ll bet our unknown sins far outnumber the ones we’re aware of. We like to think we’re doing pretty well, while we leave behind a trail of hurt feelings. We may not have hurt anyone, but how many did we fail to help? Far too often we were the problem rather than the solution, and someone had to clean up after us. We’re a mess and most of the time we don’t even know it. Like something caught in our front teeth or a stain on the back of our shirt.

Jesus knows. He’s heard the prayers of the many we’ve hurt and comforted them. He’s had pity on the one’s we’ve ignored. He’s prayed for us. He pleads for mercy – for us.

I didn’t know, Lord. Pray for me.

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.