Tag: Mirror of the Passion

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Have you ever watched someone live?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for April 5, 2022. Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

All the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts. And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things. (Luke 23:48,49)

Have you ever watched someone die? It is a powerful, moving moment. In those few seconds, the temporal and the eternal intersect. I’ve sat with many in hospice who were within a day of death, but I’ve rarely been there for someone’s final moment. Sadness, wonder, memories, labored breathing, and prayers fill the room of those on their deathbed.

According to Luke, crowds were there when Jesus died. Both those who knew him and those who had accompanied him from Galilee witnessed his final moments. All they could do was watch.

Perhaps the more important question is, “Have you ever watched someone live?”

Have you seen them in their element, almost effortlessly doing what they were created to do? Have you seen them laugh or cry without reservation, swept away by emotion? Have you seen them enjoy a delicious bite (or a whole bowl) of something? Have you seen them jump in the water, slide down the hill, been soaked with sweat, or swallow some nasty-tasting medicine?

Much of this crowd had seen Jesus live. They had seen him eat and drink, celebrate and mourn, sleep and wake, walk and talk, and teach. He worked with his hands, celebrated weddings, enjoyed a good meal, loved children, and told great stories.

They didn’t know it, but a couple of days later, some of them would get to watch Jesus live again. The resurrection forever changes the way we see life and death. Death will come, so we don’t want to take any of our days for granted. But resurrection will come, too, so we don’t want to dwell too much on death.

What’s the right balance? Focus on Jesus. He’ll show you how to live, how to die, and how to live again!

Show me how to live, Lord.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

Innocent

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for April 4, 2022. Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!” (Luke 23:47)

By the time the centurion speaks these words, he has experienced the darkness. He has heard Jesus’ conversations with the criminals crucified with him. He listened as Jesus prayed for those who executed him. He witnessed the last breath of Jesus. He would have a lot to share that evening when his wife asked, “So how was your day?”

So who is innocent in our world? Newborn babies. Innocent victims who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. An innocent bystander who got caught in the line of fire. Someone with a solid alibi. That person about whom the jury decides, “We find the defendant not guilty.”

This Roman commander was the first of many to worship God in front of a cross. Crosses of every shape and size grab out attention as soon as we walk into a church. A 42 foot glass cross is in the front of my church sanctuary. I’ve seen some with a crucified Christ, some mysteriously suspended in air, and small crucifixes on a pole or a stand. The cross in the front of the church where I grew up was made up of hundreds of multicolored stones. (I spend many sermons trying them all.) A small crucifix hangs on the wall of our chapel.

No matter the shape or size of the cross before us in worship, you and I profess, “He was innocent.” He was the good teacher. He was the holy one of God. He fulfilled the law. He knew no sin. He was the perfect, unblemished lamb.

But he was pierced for my transgressions. He was crushed for my iniquities. God laid all of my guilt on him.

Without fail, every time I go to a funeral, someone gets up to tell those gathered how good the deceased was. He (or she) would do anything for anyone. He would give you the shirt off his back. The departed was good, kind, generous, faithful, unselfish, and giving. Makes me feel like a slug. I can’t imagine anyone saying any of those things about me.

And I hope you don’t. Instead, talk about the one on the cross. Talk about Jesus who was good, kind, merciful, faithful, unselfish, generous, holy and innocent.

All the praise is yours, Lord.

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

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.