What a Week! By Pat Cirrincione

The week began with a donkey ride. In the ancient world, donkeys were all purpose animals. To own many donkeys was a sign of wealth. In the Old Testament, Saul was looking for some of his father’s lost donkeys right before he was chosen to be Israel’s first king. When Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, he affirms his messianic loyalty as well as his humility.

After the hoopla of the cheering crowds throwing palm branches before him, the first thing Jesus does is go the temple, where he proceeds to clear it out. He overthrows the tables of the money changers and merchants. Why? Because they were crowding out those who had come to worship God! The temple area was always crowded during Passover with thousands of out-of-town visitors. The money changers and merchants rationalized that setting up their booths in the temple was good business. Jesus thought otherwise. He was right to be angry as He encountered unbelief. He was angry at the dishonest, greedy practices of the businesses, and He disliked that the religious leaders didn’t care that they made it difficult for people to worship. God’s temple was being abused. The merchants didn’t care about God. Their greed made them forget that God’s house was a place of worship, not a place for their fortunes. What did Jesus do? He made a whip and chased them all out. Jesus took their evil acts (depicted in Matthew and John} as an insult against God, and any practice that interfered with worshipping God was brought to a stop.

What about today? Is God’s house a place of worship? Is his house being revered in every way? We should come to church to worship God, the Creator of all things. Our attitude toward the church is wrong if we view it as a place to advance personal agendas or business deals. Our attitude in attending church is to worship God.

Now let Holy Week begin, with our Messiah arriving in Jerusalem on a donkey and clearing out his temple, and our hearts, for true worship of him alone.

After Jesus’ exciting entry into Jerusalem, he spent the night in Bethany. The next morning, on his way back to Jerusalem he became hungry. Jesus saw a fig tree along the road (Matthew 21:18-22). His mouth must watered at the thought of those sweet figs, but when he got closer, se saw nothing on the fig tree but leaves. At this point, I don’t know if I would have done what Jesus did when he declared, “Let no fruit grown on you ever again!” (Matthew 21:19), but when you are hungry and discouraged like Jesus was maybe I would have said the same thing. However, I think there’s a lesson here. The fruit tree may have looked good from a distance, but it was fruitless. Sort of like people who appear to have faith but are spiritually barren. How strong is your fruit tree? Jesus had to be thinking about the fruitless Pharisees, knowing that they were not only plotting his demise, but also bearing no fruit.

Throughout his last week on earth, Jesus was challenged religious leaders by who wanted to know from whom His authority came. They didn’t really want answers, they only wanted to trap Jesus, and support their own views and causes. Instead of answering them, Jesus begins to tell stories: about two sons, one who obeys and one who doesn’t; about a wicked farmer; and about a wedding dinner. The religious leaders knew that Jesus was really talking about them and exposing their murderous plot, and still they did not repent. They continued to try and trap Jesus. They asked him about paying taxes, about the resurrection and about the greatest commandment. And Jesus answers kept exposing their evil motives and embarrassing them. They were more interested in defeating Jesus than in learning the truth. They were more worried about what they should not do rather than on they could do to show their love for God and others.

And then Jesus did the unthinkable. He asked the Pharisees, Herodians and Sadducees this question: Who did they think the Messiah was? Unless they believed that Jesus was who he said he was, they were lost. These men knew the Scriptures but did not live by them. They did not care about being holy, only looking holy. People easily say they know the Bible, and you might be fooled by their façade of knowledge when speaking about God’s Word, but it doesn’t change their lives. Their actions don’t match the beliefs they are proclaiming. And we need to do is to look in a mirror to see how dangerous our love for position and power can overshadow our love for God. Jesus also accused the religious leaders of losing sight of God, which caused God’s people to become blind to fulfilling God’s directives as given to Moses.

How Jesus grieved, yet there was still more Jesus needed to do before Good Friday.

After chastising the religious leaders Jesus told more stories about the future, his return and the remaining watchful (Matthew 24: 1-51). In Matthew 25, he talks about ten bridesmaids, loaned money and the final judgment. He clarified what it meant to be ready for his return and how to live until he came back. And in case you may not realize this, all of this was taking place before Maundy or Holy Thursday. If you ever think you are busy, remember these final days before Good Friday. And remember—Jesus did all of this in a town where the religious leaders were plotting to kill him! As Pastor Moody said recently: “These people hated the guy who was exposing their sins!”

By now, I tell you that I was feeling exhausted. What bothers me about saying this is that Jesus has repeatedly warned us against unbelief and rebellion against God. That the fake church is the greatest danger to the true church, as Pastor Moody reminded us. Yet, we continue to betray our Lord by not obeying and submitting to his will for our good. Why do we, like Judas, continue to betray Jesus? For money and status? Is that truly worth forfeiting eternal life with Our Creator?

Yet as exhausted as I felt in reading Matthew 21-28:10, I could not stop. I kept reading about how Judas agreed to betray Jesus; about the beautiful, sad last supper Jesus had with the disciples; how Jesus predicted Peter’s denials, and how Jesus agonized in the garden when he asked his Father to “if possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” (Matthew 26:39 and 42). I continued to read about Jesus’ betrayal and arrest, how Caiphas acted out a phony judgment, and how Peter denied knowing Jesus three times. I read how the counsel of religious leaders condemned Jesus; how Judas hung himself; how Jesus stood before Pilate and was handed over to be crucified—and I am devastated.

Did you notice that Jesus never retaliated against the evil that assaulted him. How could the crowd that loved Jesus on Sunday, hate him on Friday? And Pilate caved to the religious leaders out of fear that if he didn’t hand Jesus over to be crucified the religious leaders would complain to his bosses in Rome, and his cushy job would be in jeopardy. And Jesus, the Son of God, was led away to be crucified.

I am now beyond exhausted as I sit here weeping and grieving, that the only way we could be saved was that God had to give his only Son to die for us, upon a cross, so that if we believe we may have eternal life. That kind of love for his children goes beyond anything I could ever do. Yet this is not the end.

God had planned for his Son to come the first time, and a time for his Son to return. To quote Pastor Moody again: “in the meantime, we are called to witness that Jesus was born, died, and rose again according to the Scriptures!” You have two choices: To believe that Jesus was born, died, and rose again so that we who believe may have eternal life; or to be closed to the truth. If you deny this happened or ignore it or trying to explain it away, it means you are denying that Jesus is Lord and king, and that de died for the sins of people from all nations.

What will your choice be?

Palm Sunday: Not Just a Parade By Kylie Hultgren

As a child, I remember lining up in Sunday school with a green palm branch in my hand and the nervous jitters throughout my body as I thought about walking in front of the whole church congregation waving my branch. My parents were eager for a picture. I was eager for the service to end so that I could keep my souvenir palm branch as a reminder of the parade. At the time, I had no clue this was much more than a stroll through the church with a prize to keep at the end. I had no idea that waving my palm branch on Palm Sunday was an immensely significant act that I was able to participate in year after year.

As humans, we instinctively connect to symbols and actions. The physical act of waving branches and walking through the church helps welcome us into Easter week and allows us to act out a kind of symbolism. We start to taste what it must have been like for the crowd—young and old—to lay down their cloaks and branches for their humble, donkey riding Savior to walk on. Waving those palm branches was a sign of worship and sacrifice, but what kind of worship and sacrifice do we demonstrate and participate in on Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday? Would it help us to wave branches and lay down our jackets to worship on Palm Sunday morning?

The answer is, not necessarily. Rather than palm branch waving, what if we did hand palm raising. Think about it—open palms are a sign of receiving and letting go. Raised palms are a sign of honor and respect, lifting someone high and putting his glory, not ours, on display.

By raising our hands and opening our palms today, we can give worship and sacrifice to the Lord similar to the way the crowds who lined the streets of ancient Jerusalem did when Jesus entered the city. We can acknowledge who the Savior is and welcome him into all of who we are. We raise our palms to declare, “He is worthy of worship,” and open our palms to say, “He is worthy of all of me.” We can proclaim his beauty and surrender our lives all in this small physical act of adoration.

This certainly doesn’t mean we have to raise our hands in worship every time we hear or sing our favorite worship song. The point is not the physical act, but the heart behind it, the symbolism. How are you demonstrating worship and sacrifice this Easter season for the One who perfectly worshiped his Father and perfectly sacrificed himself for us? Will we spend Palm Sunday thinking it is only about the branch waving, or will we see the significance behind the palm raising? One is just a parade for our children, the other a posture of our hearts.

From the Hearts of Many to the Heart of God by Vikki Williams

Dedicated to a prayer group at our church.

Why should it be given to me
that I should know the tones in which this one old man
cries, "Thank you, Jesus!"?
And how he prays that everybody we know will become
"Jesus boys and Jesus girls!"?
It is as though he has become
almost translucent with age,
and as the Light shines through,
it is beautiful to behold.

And I see the exuberant brother
who will welcome the day's newcomers
as though he was "shot out of a canon"
(to use an expression my children are fond of)
by God, straight at each visitor,
most particularly and specifically for them that day.

I remember the verse that one dear brother
prayed week after week:
"You are a God
who sits up high
and looks down low."
And the first few times, that verse was unfamiliar,
but he helped me make an acquaintance with it.
One week, he spoke a verse from proverbs,
("When a man's ways please the Lord,
He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him")
and that was a very great gift to me,
though he knew it not.
It was as if I was meeting that verse for the very first time,
and he had introduced me.

I know my sister who calls God "Abba" with such pleasure,
and which brother cannot prevent himself
from praying for people's babies who are ill.
I know the strivings of heart of my close friend,
and which voices I've heard strong in hope,
and voices I've heard speak gratefulness in low tones,
and I know the sound of voices voicing regrets.
(including my own)

I do not know
how much pressure
and how much responsibility
has been laid upon the shoulders
of some of these men with families
by their workplaces.
But to hear them pray for friends and family,
for closeness to God,
for holiness for us all...
oughtta make me know something.

For how long have I forgotten
that the bearing of the names
of the sons of Israel upon his heart
to bring them to remembrance before the Lord
was an honor given to Aaron?
And then when our forever-High-Priest had come,
he bore our sins upon his body,
and bears multitudes of men and women
upon His heart before His father.
And why should this honor be given to us,
that we should be little priests interceding?
For men and women everywhere can be borne upon our hearts,
and borne upward: brought before our God, our Father.

The Mystery of the Crimson Carpet by Steve Krogh

The plane makes its final descent into Kilimanjaro International Airport, the runway stretches

into the African plain and the nation’s most famous landmark soars on the horizon. I gaze out

the window, reflecting on my previous trips here. There is a quiet security that comes in

familiarity half way around the planet.

Then, something new startles me. Three crimson ribbons sprawl across the dusty, beige

tarmac.

An African woman dismounts the plane ahead of me, her suitcase jolting on each aluminum step of the portable stairway. Looking beyond her, I can see the magnitude of the three crimson ribbons of carpet. Each are lined with dozens of attendants, standing with shoulders squares and heads erect. Someone is about to get the red-carpet treatment. But who?

I make my way to customs, and the customs officer growls, “Purpose of visit?” I answer,

“Visiting my friends, sir.” He looks at the visa in my passport, “Your previous visa expires in two days. That will be $100 for a new visa, Mr. Steve.”

Smiling, I reply, “I guess I should have visited my friends last week.” The customs officer

flashes a wide smile, “You are so right, Mr. Steve. But, keribu, welcome to Tanzania.” Keribu

indeed.

One final backward glance reveals that the attendants are still standing guard on their crimson

carpet, sweltering in the African heat. Who are they waiting for? I later find out at dinner

the next day.

My first of my dinner guests to arrive are Moses and Mary, who live in Arusha, not far from my hotel. Mary is the daughter of a dear friend I see each Sunday at College Church, Moses Magwasela, archbishop in Tanzania, graduate student at Wheaton College. It is a delight to meet Mary, like father like daughter.

Though close by, Moses and Mary arrive a bit late, apologizing that the traffic was horrible. We wait for our other dinner guest, Pastor Joseph, a ministry colleague of Moses. The hour grows late, and we decide to begin our meal without him. As we finish dessert, Pastor Joseph arrives.

“I have never seen traffic like this in all my years,” he exclaims. “We were stopped on the side of the road for over an hour. Motorcades passed by, one after another. So many!”

The mystery of the crimson carpet is about to be solved. “Who was in the motorcade?” I ask.

“The East African Community (EAC) presidents met today in Arusha,” Joseph answers.

Indeed, they did. A quick Google search turns up the following: “The Presidents of Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and South Sudan held a February 1 summit meeting in Arusha, the headquarters of the East African Community (EAC).”

The summit was canceled twice in the last three months and finally met on Friday night. Why didn’t they check my dinner schedule?

These leaders meet to solve world problems. “The Burundi/Rwanda relations are not on the agenda. We are dealing with the issue bilaterally with Uganda. Items on the agenda include the resolution of long outstanding non-tariff barriers, the roadmap for the accelerated integration of South Sudan into the EAC, the verification exercise for the admission of the Republic of Somalia into the EAC” and so forth. Important items no doubt.

Now I know why that unmarked, white jumbo jet landed at the airport shortly after my arrival.

The important people finally landed, presidents, after all. The power brokers, the people who really matter, the ones who will solve all Africa’s problems. Or will they?

Tomorrow I land again at Kilimanjaro International Airport, retracing my flight pattern on the way home. By now, the carpets will be rolled up and stored in some dusty hangar, until they are rolled out again for a different list of power brokers. Same carpets, different shoes. But who are the people who truly matter?

The past ten days of my fourth trip to Tanzania convinces me that it will take someone greater than presidents to solve these problems, someone who also has different feet on the ground..

The prophet Isaiah wrote, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’ The voice of your watchmen — they lift up their voice; together they sing for joy” (Isaiah 52:7,8a).

I have spent the week with the watchmen. The publishers. The bringers of good news I heard their voices preach and their hearts sing. Their feet know no crimson carpets and likely never will in this life. But God says their feet are beautiful. Period. That is all that matters. One day they will be given something better than a dusty carpet. They will be given the real royal treatment.

What’s better than a crimson carpet from the airport warehouse? How about

this: “And when the Chief Shepherd appears you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1

Peter 5:4). Presidential carpets come and go, pastoral crowns never fade. They will never be taken away.

Kindness, the Daily Grace by Pat Cirrincione

It was the summer of 1954, and my family had just moved into the top floor of my paternal grandparents' two flat. I decided to take a break from all the unpacking going on inside and went outside to sit on the front porch steps. I must have looked the way I felt inside—sad and a bit lost in the new neighborhood— because a girl, who looked my age, came over from where she had been sitting and introduced herself to me. Her name was Marlene. The first thing Marlene did was introduce me to her grandmother, who drank beer for breakfast every morning and told us tales of “auld Ireland” when she was just a wee child before coming to America. I thought she was delightful.

Through my new friend, I discovered that my new neighborhood consisted of people from the Appalachians, Irish immigrants who had come from Canada, a few Italian families as well as Jewish and African-American families. We were a mixed and diverse group of people that made growing up fun and interesting.

We children either went to St. Mel Grade School on Washington Boulevard, or Tilton Grade School on West End. However, the one constant I remember the most was that everyone was kind to one another. Differences were respected. No one made fun of anyone, which was nice for me, because today, I would be considered the class nerd, a name that wasn’t even heard of back then.

Back then, and even today, my nose was always in a book. I was fairly quiet and basically a homebody. I had curly hair, wore glasses and was very tiny. The combination of all these things typically meant that I always got picked last for anything. Funny thing, though, I never felt bad because not one child I attended school with ever made fun of me. I was invited to every birthday party the other girls were invited to, and was never left out of things going on with the other children. I truly believe that because most of our neighborhood consisted of families who had just been through World War II, they were glad to just be alive. Nothing was taken for granted. Every person had value. Friendships were special and lasted a lifetime.

When did all this change? I don’t know, but when I think about it, I think it was a gradual process of people becoming more self-absorbed, mean-spirited and unkind to anyone who might get in the way of their goals, their ambitions and progress in life. When did we forget that kindness brings comfort, and builds up God’s people? When did our love change from self-giving to self-serving? If our highest purpose was to worship God, then how could we not be kind and love our neighbors? But I am getting ahead of myself.

I realize now how fortunate I was growing up in a neighborhood where kindness comforted and built up God’s people. Where no act of kindness was wasted, but treasured by the one receiving it from a friend or neighbor.

I read this post about kindness on Facebook (of all places):

Always be kind.
If you see someone falling
behind, walk beside them.
If someone is being ignored,
find a way to include them.
If someone has been
knocked down, lift them up.
Always remind people
of their worth.
Be who you needed
when you were going
through hard times.
Just one small act of
kindness could mean the
world to someone.

All around you, people are hungering for even a touch of kindness. As Rosaria Butterfield says in her book The Gospel Comes with a House Key, “it begins with recognizing people as your kin…and it can be a violent form of neglect for another’s soul.”

Kindness is a daily grace shown to another. I realize now how blessed my family and I were that summer of 1954 to have been placed in our new neighborhood by a kind and loving Father. A neighborhood where the standard was self-giving love, given freely with no strings attached. I’m not saying that living in a community is always pleasant, but in the kind of neighborhood I grew up in, it could definitely be life changing.

I leave you with this thought from Ephesians 4:32: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (NIV) After all, how else would you meet a friend’s grandmother who drinks beer for breakfast? 

The Light--Worship Music from Madagascar

College Church mid-term missionaries Caleb and Whitney Wiley live in Madagascar, where they help believers record and produce worship music. Enjoy this worship song, Lay Mazava, with English subtitles.

credits Song by Tiazara Ladiciano Recorded and Produced by Caleb and Whitney Wiley.

Here are the lyrics>

The Light

Jesus (John 8:12)

Jesus Christ told everyone

I am the light of the world

Whoever follows me,

Won’t go into darkness

(But) will have the light of life

Refrain:

Jesus Christ is the light

He is the light

Whoever follows him,

Won’t go into darkness

(But) will have the light of life

 Disciples (Matthew 5:14-16)

You all are the light of this world

You need to be light to people’s eyes

So they see the good things you do

And give glory to your Father in heaven .

Fireplace of God's Love by Jennifer Frakes

My dad was trained as a mechanical engineer and made his living as a home builder and remodeler. His education and experience translated into his ability to build a masterpiece of tightly crumpled paper, soaked in lighter fluid under small thirsty kindling sticks, beneath alternating large dry logs strategically stacked. Seemingly dead matter would arise with awesome power, and in the precise place designed for fire.  I remember being captivated by the anticipation of immanent danger, but a tamed danger—danger and safety juxtaposed. It was the place made for fire—the fireplace.  

One spark, and into reality burst the hope of warmth and comfort, and my skin and soul simultaneously felt from “good fire” the happiness one feels with a surprise visit from a faithful friend! The soon dancing, roaring blaze of white hot orange, yellow hues atop red embers, and the crackling, hissing, popping sounds sealed into my heart’s memory a feeling of family togetherness, of stillness, and there, I knew and felt my father’s care. He had created something  of ambiance for our family to enjoy. It was my father’s heart and skill and attention and gift. It was one of my fondest childhood memories of him and of his positive influence. It was intentional, purposeful, dangerous, and yet safe and comforting. The fiery gift glowed with warmth and light and spread love to others.

There is within me, a fireplace. It cannot ignite itself.

Now, heavenly Father, I pray, so ignite my heart, our hearts, with the love of God for the needs of the hurting world satisfied only in you and empowered by the Holy Spirit through Christ our Lord!

What the Prodigal Did by Sarah Burkhardt

I am discovering exactly what the prodigal did—

Who taking his father’s inheritance in pursuit of the life and the will he wanted,

Found that there is no deeper love

Than the very one he squandered.

When we learn to live beloved,

To trust the love that casts out all fear,

We learn not only how great our God is;

But that we, ourselves, in all our unique intricacies, are a gift.

A gift of creation, being made new.

We find a new identity,

And a new hope.

It is tempting to be like the older brother,

The faithful one standing above it all,

not embraced by his father’s love.

Pride itself is a fall, and self-obsession can easily plague.

Learn to let go of what you can’t hold onto. And re-learn.

We can be so close and not see,

not allow ourselves the true embrace we really need.

Be embraced by the Father. It is through Christ we can abide in his love.

It is likely exactly the key, to quench that thirst that you’ve felt for so long.

There is a fount of water that does not run out in the Spirit.

And you learn that you, yes you,

Yourself, are a gift—in your job, in your family, in your community--called to a greater mission, and a great adventure, more life-giving than you could ever find on your own.

It might mean you will go across the world, but more likely it will start in your own yard, with the Father’s embrace, saying son, daughter—you are a gift. Receive me, and my gift for you.

This gift is a true inheritance, one that will not fade away, and one that you can trust with your very life, for your entire life.

A new inheritance, one that will not be destroyed.