Easter People: Living the Resurrection

Hey, beautiful souls, welcome to Pastor’s Ponderings! I’m Pastor Scott, your fellow traveler on this winding, sacred road we call faith. Today, I’m inviting you to grab a coffee (or tea, if you’re one of those people), find a quiet corner, and dive into something that’s been stirring my heart: what it means to be Easter people. Not just folks who celebrate Easter with lilies and chocolate bunnies, but people who live like the tomb is empty, like love wins, like the world’s been turned upside down. Let’s ponder this together—what does it look like to live the resurrection in a world that’s messy, broken, and yet so achingly beautiful?

The Scene: A Mountain, a Miracle, and Some Doubts

Picture this: Matthew 28:16-20. The disciples are trudging up a mountain in Galilee. They’re exhausted, grieving, and probably a bit confused. Jesus, their friend and teacher, was crucified, dead, gone. And now? He’s standing there—alive, radiant, impossible. The text says, “They worshiped him; but some doubted.”

Can we just pause and appreciate how human that is? They’re staring at a man who was dead, now alive, and some of them are thinking, “Is this for real?” I love that. It’s so us. We want to believe in resurrection, in hope, in God showing up, but part of us whispers, “Really? In this world? With these headlines?”

And here’s what gets me: Jesus doesn’t scold them for doubting. He doesn’t say, “Get it together!” Instead, He steps right into their messy faith and says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them, teaching them, and don’t forget—I’m with you always, to the very end of the age.”

That’s the heartbeat of Easter. That’s the call to be Easter people. So, let’s unpack it with some big, soul-stirring questions about what this means for us today.

Authority That Sets Us Free

When Jesus says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” what’s He talking about? We hear “authority” and picture a king on a throne or a CEO barking orders. But Jesus’ authority isn’t like that. It’s not about control or domination. It’s the authority of a love that’s stronger than death.

This is the guy who faced betrayal, torture, and a cross, then walked out of the tomb saying, “I’m still here.” His power doesn’t force anyone to do anything—it invites us into a story where death doesn’t get the last word. Love does.

So, here’s a question: What would it look like to trust that kind of authority in your life? Not the world’s version of power—money, status, control—but the kind that sets people free? Who in your world needs to hear that there’s a love bigger than their pain, fear, or shame? Maybe it’s a coworker drowning in stress or a neighbor who’s lost hope. Being an Easter person means carrying that kind of authority—not to lord it over anyone, but to say, “There’s a way through this, and it’s love.”

Making Disciples, Building Connections

Next, let’s talk about this “go and make disciples” part. It can sound churchy, like a mission for people with clipboards and evangelistic checklists. But what if it’s not that at all? What if making disciples is about inviting people to become fully human, the way God dreamed us to be?

Baptizing, teaching, obeying—it’s not about signing people up for Team Jesus. It’s about walking with them into a life where we love like Jesus, forgive like Jesus, and show up for each other like Jesus. Easter people don’t just recruit; we connect. We share coffee, stories, tears. We say, “You don’t have to do this alone—come sit at this messy, holy table.”

Here’s another question: Who’s someone you could invite into that kind of journey? Not to fix them or convert them, but to say, “Let’s figure out what it means to be human together”? The resurrection isn’t just about getting to heaven someday—it’s about heaven crashing into earth now, through us, through relationships, through community. Who’s your one person you could reach out to this week?

The Promise That Changes Everything

And then there’s this promise that hits me every time: “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Always. Not just when you’re feeling spiritual or when you’ve got your act together. Jesus is with you when you’re nervous about sharing your faith, when you fumble your words, when you’re not even sure you believe it yourself.

Easter people live with the awareness that the risen Jesus is here. In the coffee shop, in the awkward conversation, in the quiet moments when you’re wondering if any of this matters. What would change if you really believed He’s with you? Right now, as you’re reading this, as you’re driving to work, as you’re thinking about that one person you could invite into this story? How would that shift the way you live, love, and show up?

The Risk and the Call

Being an Easter person feels like a risk, doesn’t it? It’s stepping into a world that screams “death wins” and saying, “No, love does.” It’s trusting a different kind of authority, walking with people toward life, and knowing we’re not alone. But isn’t that what Easter’s about? The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive. And He’s calling us to live like it.

So, here’s my invitation to you: Think about one person. Someone who’s searching, hurting, or curious. What would it look like to invite them into this resurrection life? Not to sell them something or preach at them, but to offer a taste of the hope, love, and presence that Easter brings. Maybe it’s a text: “Hey, wanna grab coffee?” Maybe it’s a kind word or a listening ear. Maybe it’s just saying, “I’m figuring this faith thing out too—wanna come along?”

And here’s the big question: What’s stopping you? Is it fear? Doubt? The lie that you’re not qualified? Because Easter people aren’t perfect. We’re just people who’ve seen the empty tomb and can’t keep it to ourselves.

Let’s Live Like the Tomb Is Empty

Thanks for joining me on this pondering journey. If this stirred something in you, share it with a friend, drop me a note, or take a moment to pray for that one person you’re thinking of. I’m Pastor Scott, and I’m rooting for you, praying for you, believing that you’re Easter people in a world that needs you.

Keep pondering, keep loving, and keep living like the tomb is empty.

Grace & Shalom,
Pastor Scott

April 21, 2025 0

Rolling Stones and Rising Hope: An Easter Invitation

Hey friends, welcome back to Pastor’s Ponderings. I’m Pastor Scott, and today I’m sitting down with my coffee, my Bible, and a heart full of wonder about Easter. It’s the season of resurrection, of new life, of something breaking through—and I want to invite you into that mystery with me. Easter’s not just a day on the calendar or a story we dust off once a year. It’s an invitation. A dare. A question: What if the things we thought were dead aren’t finished at all? Let’s ponder this together.

I was walking through my neighborhood last night just before a thunderstorm, and spring is waking up all around me. Trees budding (lots of pollen), flowers poking through the dirt. And there, in a neighbor’s yard (the one that always has a perfect lawn and a perfect garden – I’m so envious), was this one tulip—bright red, standing tall like it was shouting, “I’m alive!” It stopped me in my tracks. Because isn’t that Easter? Something refusing to stay buried. Something insisting that life gets the last word.

Let’s go to the story. Picture it: early morning, the air cool and heavy with dew. The women—Mary Magdalene, maybe another Mary—are walking to the tomb. Their steps are slow, their hearts weighed down with grief. They’re carrying spices to anoint a body. Jesus’ body. The one they loved, the one they followed, the one they thought would change everything. Now it’s over. Done. Finished.

Or so they think.

Then they get there, and—boom—the stone’s rolled away. The tomb’s empty. An angel’s sitting there, casual as you please, saying, “He’s not here. He’s risen.” Can you imagine Mary’s face? Confusion, shock, maybe a flicker of hope she’s afraid to let herself feel. Because that’s not how death works. That’s not how the story was supposed to end.

Or was it?

Here’s what grabs me about Easter: It’s not just about what happened that morning. It’s about what it means for us today. Easter says the worst thing is never the last thing. Betrayal? Not the final word. Pain? Not the end of the chapter. Even death? Nope. There’s something more. There’s a rising.

I wonder where you feel that in your life right now. Where are you standing at a tomb, holding onto something you think is gone? A dream that fizzled out? A relationship that’s fractured? A hope you’ve buried? Easter’s whispering to you, “It’s not over. Look for the life.”

Let’s slow down for a second, because resurrection is a big word. We toss it around at church, but what does it really mean? Sure, it’s about Jesus rising from the dead—absolutely, that’s the heartbeat of our faith. But it’s also about what that does to *us*. To you and me. To the world we’re stumbling through.

Resurrection says that God’s not done. Not with you, not with your story, not with the mess. It says there’s always a next. A new chapter. A second chance. And here’s the thing: it doesn’t always look like you expect. Sometimes resurrection is loud—an empty tomb, angels singing, the whole shebang. But sometimes it’s quiet. It’s the friend who texts you just when you need it. It’s the courage to try again after you’ve failed. It’s the moment you forgive when you thought you’d hold that grudge forever.

Resurrection’s sneaky like that. It shows up in the dirt of life. In the ordinary. In the places we least expect. Because that’s where God loves to work, isn’t it? In the cracks. In the mess. In the moments we’d written off.

So let’s get real. I know life doesn’t always feel like a resurrection party. Sometimes it feels like you’re stuck at the tomb, clutching those spices, staring at what’s lost. I’ve been there. We all have. But here’s what I’m learning: Easter invites us to move. Those women at the tomb didn’t just stand there, gaping at the empty space. They ran. They told people. They became part of the story.

And that’s the question Easter asks us: Are you going to stay at the tomb, holding onto what *was*? Or are you going to step into what *could be*? Are you going to look for the places where life’s breaking through—and then join in?

Maybe it’s a conversation you need to have, even if it scares you. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve shelved that’s tugging at your heart again. Maybe it’s just getting up tomorrow and choosing to love a little more, forgive a little deeper, hope a little braver. That’s resurrection. That’s Easter alive in you.

Here’s my challenge as we sit with this Easter season: Look for it. Look for the resurrection all around you. Not just in the big, flashy moments, but in the small ones. Where’s love refusing to quit? Where’s hope pushing up like that tulip through the dirt? Where’s life saying, “I’m not done yet”?

And then—here’s the part that changes everything—*be* the resurrection. Easter’s not just something that happened 2,000 years ago. It’s happening now. In your choices. In your courage. In the way you show up. You get to roll stones away for someone else. You get to carry the news that life wins. You get to live like the tomb is empty—because it is.

One last thought before I let you go. In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not “I’ll give you resurrection later.” Not “I’ll show you life someday.” But *I am*. Right now. Right here. In the middle of your doubts, your fears, your questions—resurrection is already humming. It’s already alive. And you’re invited to step into it.

So this Easter, don’t just read the story. Live it. Run from the tomb. Tell the world with your life. Be the rising. Because the story’s not over—and neither are you.

Thanks for pondering with me, friends. If this stirs something in you, share it with someone. Let’s keep asking the big questions together. Until next time, keep seeking, keep hoping, and keep rising.
Grace, Peace & Tulips,
-Pastor Scott.

April 11, 2025 0

Grave-Shaking Glory: Jesus, Lazarus, and Your Easter Wake-Up Call

Here’s the Spotify Episode (Click Here)

Alright, friends, let’s get into it—Easter’s not just a holiday, it’s a holy disruption. And if you wanna see what it’s really about, crack open John 11, where Jesus does the unthinkable: He calls Lazarus out of the grave. This isn’t just a story to make you feel good—it’s a straight-up invitation to see what Easter’s got to do with you. So, let’s go there, because this one’s gonna hit deep.

Picture it: Lazarus is dead. Four days in the ground. His sisters, Mary and Martha, are shattered. They’d sent a 911 to Jesus when Lazarus was still hanging on, like, “Jesus, get here—now!” But Jesus? He doesn’t move. He waits two whole days. Why? Because He’s not just about fixing things—He’s about flipping the script for God’s glory. He tells His people, “This isn’t gonna end in death. It’s gonna show who God is.” And that’s the first thing that grabs me: God’s glory doesn’t always show up on our schedule, but it shows up right on time.

So, Jesus finally arrives, and it’s raw. The tomb’s sealed, the air’s heavy with grief, and Martha’s like, “Jesus, if You’d been here, my brother wouldn’t be dead.” Ever been there? “God, where were You when everything fell apart?” I have. We all have. We’ve stood at the edge of something broken—our hearts, our plans, our hope—and wondered why He didn’t come through. But Jesus doesn’t dodge her pain. He looks her in the eyes and drops this: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me? They’ll live, even if they die.” That’s not just a nice line—it’s a lifeline.

Then it gets real. Jesus cries. He doesn’t roll in like some untouchable superhero. He weeps with them. He feels the weight of their loss. And that’s Easter, friends—it’s not just about the win; it’s about a God who steps into our hurt, who stands with us in the mess. But He doesn’t stop at tears. He walks up to that tomb and shouts, “Lazarus, come out!” And this guy—dead, done, four days gone—walks out. Alive. Still wrapped in those grave clothes, but alive.

Here’s where it gets personal: That’s you and me. We’re Lazarus. Dead in our stuff—our sin, our shame, our fears. We’ve got tombs we don’t talk about, places we’ve buried hope. But Jesus? He’s not scared of our darkness. He’s standing there, calling us by name, saying, “Get out here! You weren’t made for this grave!” Easter isn’t just Jesus rising—it’s Him raising us. It’s Him pulling off those grave clothes—our guilt, our pain, our chains—and saying, “You’re free. Live.”

So, this Easter, let’s not play small. What’s your tomb? What’s keeping you stuck? Because Jesus didn’t raise Lazarus just to show off—He did it to prove He’s still bringing dead things to life. He’s still crashing into our chaos, calling us into something new. And when we step out, we’re not just survivors—we’re walking proof that God gets the last word, not death.

Let’s do this, friends. Let’s answer His call, shake off those grave clothes, and step into the life He’s got for us. Easter’s here, and it’s got your name on it. You in?
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

April 8, 2025 0

Let’s Talk About Death and Empty Tombs

Listen to this episode on Spotify (click the link)

Hey friends! I’ve been mulling this topic over today. I don’t want to write a devotional thought that scares you, nor do I want to depress you. Recently, while scrolling on TikTok, I came across this profile that uses AI to generate what certain celebrities who died before their time would look like today. As I watched these clips, I was both sad and happy at the same time. Thanks to the use of artificial intelligence, this content creator brought some of my childhood celebrities back to life.

So, let’s talk this thing called death—this inevitability, the thing we don’t bring up at dinner parties, the one we tiptoe around like it’s the awkward uncle who overstays his welcome. It’s the shadow in the corner, the thing we’re told to fear, to fight, to outrun. But what if we’ve been looking at it all wrong? What if death isn’t the end of the story, but a doorway? What if it’s not a period in a sentence, but a comma?

I mean, think about it. We live in a world obsessed with keeping death at arm’s length—anti-aging creams, kale smoothies, that extra mile on the treadmill—like we can negotiate with it, bribe it to look the other way. And yet, it’s coming for all of us. You, me, the barista who just spelled your name wrong on the cup. Death doesn’t discriminate. It’s sometimes been called the great equalizer. But here’s the wild, beautiful twist: what if it’s not something to dread? What if it’s something to lean into? Not in some morbid way, but rather an embrace of the comma, the next chapter, the acknowledgement that even though we don’t fully know yet, our lives are actually created to be eternal.

See, there’s this ancient story—maybe you’ve heard it—about a guy named Jesus. He’s walking around, healing people, feeding crowds, flipping tables, and then he says something outrageous: “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not I’ll give you resurrection, not someday you’ll get life—he says I am it. Right here, right now. And then, just to prove it, he walks straight into death—nails, cross, tomb, the whole brutal mess—and comes out the other side. Alive. Breathing. New.

What’s that about? It’s about a promise. A promise that death doesn’t get the last word. A promise that whatever’s on the other side isn’t darkness or nothingness, but something so alive, so vibrant, it makes everything we’ve ever known look like a shadow. Heaven, sure—call it that if you want—but it’s not just harps and clouds. It’s a reality where everything broken gets mended, where every tear gets wiped away, where you and I step into the fullness of who we were always meant to be.

And here’s the thing: that promise isn’t just for later. It’s for now. Because if resurrection is real—if Jesus meant what he said—then death isn’t a monster under the bed. It’s a transition. A shedding. Like a seed cracking open in the dirt, letting go of what it was so it can become something more. You don’t have to be afraid of that. You don’t have to clench your fists and grit your teeth. You can open your hands. You can breathe.

I think about my own life sometimes—those moments when I’ve felt death brush close. A loved one gone too soon, a diagnosis that stopped me cold, or just the quiet ache of knowing this body won’t last forever. And yeah, it stings. It’s heavy. But then I hear that voice again: “I am the resurrection and the life.” And I wonder—what if this isn’t the end? What if it’s the beginning of something so big, so good, I can’t even wrap my head around it?

So, what if we stopped running from death and started trusting the One who beat it? What if we lived like people who know the tomb is empty? Because it is. It’s empty. And that changes everything. Death isn’t the thief we thought it was—it’s the usher, leading us into a room we’ve been homesick for our whole lives.

You don’t have to fear it. You don’t have to outsmart it. You just have to trust that the story’s not over. That there’s a resurrection waiting. That heaven isn’t a far-off dream—it’s the heartbeat of everything true, pulling us closer every day. And when the time comes, when we step through that doorway, we’ll see it: the light, the love, the life that never ends.

So, here’s my question for you today: What would it look like to live unafraid? To wake up tomorrow and say, “Death, you don’t own me—I’m already on the other side”? Because you are. We all are. The promise is real. The tomb is empty. And the best is yet to come.

April 3, 2025 0

On The Edge of Something Beautiful – A Discussion on Death, Loss and Resurrection.

Hey friends.

Let’s talk about something we don’t often talk about directly: death. It seems macabre or taboo. It’s one of those things that hangs around the edges of our lives, a constant hum we try to tune out. We get so good at avoiding it, at pushing it away, that when it crashes into our world – the phone call, the diagnosis, the sudden absence – it can feel like a cosmic gut punch.

And in those moments, the questions come flooding in. What now? Where did they go? Is this… is this really it?

It’s okay to ask those questions. It’s okay to wrestle with them. In fact, I think it’s essential. Because honestly, a faith that doesn’t grapple with death, a faith that tries to bypass the very real pain and mystery of it all, isn’t really a faith at all. It’s just a nice idea, a comforting story we tell ourselves.

But Christianity, at its core, is about something much more disruptive, much more real than that. It’s about resurrection.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Resurrection? Scott, come on.” And I get it. It sounds… well, it sounds like a Sunday school answer (where the answer is always “Jesus”). But what if, just what if, it’s not just a tidy theological point? What if it’s the key to understanding everything?

Think about a seed. You plant it in the ground. It dies. It decomposes. It looks like it’s gone. Finished. But then, something incredible happens. A sprout emerges. New life. From what looked like death.

That’s the rhythm of the universe. Death and rebirth. Winter and spring. The ebb and flow of the tide. It’s woven into the fabric of everything. And it’s woven into us.

We’re so afraid of endings. We cling to what we know, to what’s familiar. But what if endings aren’t really endings at all? What if they’re transitions? Gateways? The edge of something beautiful we can’t even imagine? It’s beyond our current vision, beyond our current field of reality.

Jesus talked about this. He talked about losing your life to find it. He talked about a grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying so that it could bring forth much fruit. He wasn’t just talking about himself. He was talking about the fundamental nature of reality.

So, when we face death – our own or the death of someone we love – it’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to feel the pain. It’s okay to rage against the unfairness of it all. Grief is not the absence of faith. It’s the honest expression of love. It’s visceral, it’s raw, it’s the authentic expression of loss.

But even in the midst of that grief, we can hold onto this hope, this wild, audacious hope, that death is not the final word. (Thank God!) That what looks like the end is actually the beginning. That what seems lost is actually found, transformed, made new. We just can’t see it yet. It’s just beyond our reach. Beyond the “veil” – “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

This isn’t about escaping the reality of death. It’s about facing it head-on, with courage and with hope. It’s about trusting that even in the darkest valley, even in the face of the ultimate unknown, there is still light. There is still life. There is still love. This should be encouraging to us all. We don’t have to fear this unknown variable, or be paralyzed by this interruption of life. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to tackle this topic with the assurance that God is still present and His sovereignty has authority over both life and what we call death. New life is resurrection…we are just on the edge of it peering into something we have yet to understand.

And that, my friends, is a story worth believing in.
Grace and Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

February 4, 2025 0

David Bowie, Lazarus, Blackstar, Life and Death

I have to admit right up front that I was never an avid fan of Bowie’s music.
Sure, I know all of the hits, like “China Girl“, “Let’s Dance” and the Iconic song duet with Freddie Mercury “Under pressure“: …but I wouldn’t categorize my fandom as “superfan” by any means. I don’t have all of his records, cd’s or downloaded musical content.

My very first recollection of Bowie’s work came by way of the movie “The Labyrinth”.
He played an amazing villainous character known as the Goblin King. His music and strange vocals carried a mediocre movie into the realms of a cult classic.

David Bowie wasn’t your average, run of the mill musician. He sort of did his own thing. He set the trend. His music was strangely weird and fascinating at the same time. In 1969 Bowie gave us Major Tom in “The Space Oddity” which tells the tale of an astronaut leaving Earth and of his fears in a rather nostalgic and melancholy way.

Throughout his career he gave us odd. He gave us artistry and creativity. He certainly gave us something unique and rarely (if ever) duplicated.

But…
this isn’t really a tribute today.
This is a pondering. And like all ponderings, I would like to ask questions that perhaps have no answer, but maybe, just maybe we continue to seek them out along the way.

BLACKSTAR
I find it rather fascinating that David Bowie kept his failing, terminal diagnosis of cancer to himself. It is astounding in this day and age that something that was private stayed private. What’s even more interesting is that although Bowie was given this gloomy prognosis, he set his sights on finishing this remarkable journey on his own terms. Just two days after the release of Blackstar, Bowie died. It was as if he had timed all of this, and everything went according to his plans.

Life and Death…
I have listened to Bowie’s last album “Blackstar”.
I have seen both music videos for Lazarus and Blackstar. They are hypnotic, weird and yet oddly captivating. Within these depictions of death, we find a man struggling with his own mortality and coming to grips with his own illness. There is so much to ponder with this final release. He certainly knew he was dying when he began work on this album. He knew time was short. Despite his prognosis, Bowie decided how his passing would be depicted to the world. I do not want to delve too deeply into the symbolism and interpretation of his final songs, but I am quite interested in the final product of who each of us are…and what we leave wish to behind.

Making it Personal…
My personal interpretation of this final act of Bowie’s speaks to me on a much deeper plain than mere showbiz and pop culture. The question begs to be asked in my own life. It’s a question that currently doesn’t have a specific timetable like Bowie’s did, and yet keeps pounding on the door of my life. It’s not a prideful question, or a fear of one’s reputation either. In the purest sense…in the honesty of silence, when no one else is around…this question begs me to answer. It’s really a two fold question that keeps getting kicked around in my head, and I still find myself falling short on the words that would formulate an appropriate answer. Questions like: “How do you want to be remembered, and what sort of legacy do you want to leave behind?” float around my mind waiting to be explored, quantified and perhaps answered in slow-small doses.

Honestly, I don’t wish to take away anything from Bowie’s artistry and canvas that he has hung on its final frame and placed on his legacy (that is a stand-alone project of His life – not mine) …but within my own heart I must ask this of myself…and perhaps we all do. I’m some what fearful to what the answers might be, because it can be far too revealing even to ourselves. “What am I doing with my life right now that matters?” “What can I leave as a legacy for my children and for the world around me?” “How is the world better because of what I’ve done to better it around me?”

From a Christ-driven relationship perspective, I also know that I do not live for myself, but for One who has given us all grace. I live for One who holds both life and death in His hands, and in Whom everlasting life can be found. I find that my “Lazarus” in this new life, in the hope of eternal life is completely and utterly found in Christ. This isn’t some sermon I’m writing, or a persuasive speech, this is just how I feel and what I see in my life. I know hope exists. I know peace exists. Everlasting love and life also exist – in Christ.

Where ever you live.
Whatever you do.
If you are facing grim prognosis’ in life…know that this life is only the beginning.
We can grasp onto a life that is eternal and will never run down or expire unlike these bodies of ours.

Something more to ponder today.

January 26, 2016 0

Burn Your Ships And Commit!

The History Lesson
In 1519 Hernan Cortes, Spanish explorer, landed on Mexican soil.
He and his 600 Spanish troops were commissioned to take Mexico for Spain.
In a swift move to stave off any thoughts of retreat, he commanded that his fleet be burned.

Can you imagine being one of those six hundred men on alien soil standing there watching your only lifeline to the ‘old life’ being burned at sea. The only recourse was to make progress deeper into this unknown land; to fight, survive and claim it for the crown. The ships were gone, they had to fully commit or die.

For Us.
I am not justifying any other actions of Cortes.
Some of his decisions were down right brutal.
That being said, I do believe that there is something here for us today.

Spiritually speaking…
Have we burned our ships in the act of a full commitment to Christ?
Or
Are we still looking back longingly at the places that we used to live before we accepted this new life in the form of Salvation? Do we (even subconsciously) consider this “commitment” to be temporary while all along we have a fall back plan in case it just doesn’t pan out?

I believe even Jesus had disciples in His day that had one foot in the new life while the other foot was still firmly grounded in the old.

Read:
(Luke 9:57-62)

The Cost of Following Jesus
⁵⁷As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” ⁵⁸Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head. ⁵⁹He said to another man, “Follow me.” But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” ⁶⁰Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” ⁶¹Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.” ⁶²Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

The cost of following Christ is high!
The commitment level of such a calling is total or none at all.
We cannot have one foot in the new life while our other foot is firmly planted in the old life.
Either we are all in or we are not in at all.

Perhaps it is time that we burned the ships.
Perhaps it is time to burn that which holds us back from making that full commitment to Christ.
Don’t allow those things to pull you in two different directions any longer.
His path, His calling is the path of true peace, of true redemption, of true love.
When we burn the ships, we can no longer turn back from His will for our lives.
He wants a relationship with us that requires a full commitment.
So, how about it, are we willing to burn the ships?

Something more to ponder today!

April 20, 2015 0

Seeking Dead-Jesus… (a reflection of Mary at the tomb)

I keep thinking about Mary encountering Jesus in the garden post-death.
Imagine it with me if you can:

She is going there to properly take care of his dead body.
She is going there to shed a few more tears in private.
She is going there to say goodbye.
Her heart is as heavy as a led balloon.
She just can’t wake up from this nightmare.
Rising early that morning, a night wrought with bad dreams and sleeplessness, she heads directly to the grave.
Call it a moment to convince herself that He’s really gone.
Call it a part of the mourning process.

Rounding the last turn in the overgrown garden she comes upon a sight that she cannot quite explain.
Reason fails her and she is pauses a step to take in the scene attempting to comprehend it all – His grave is open. Picking up the pace, she closes in on the tomb and enters all in one quick motion. The place where they had laid Jesus is empty, it is vacant. Had the authorities changed their minds? What happened to the body of her teacher, her rabbi?

Mary runs back and gets the disciples who, upon hearing this troubling news, run to the tomb to check it out for themselves.

Fresh tears begin to well up in her eyes as a lump forms in her throat as this all takes place.
Where is Jesus?
Why had they done this?
Could they not have left Him be, allowing this one ounce of dignity?

Stepping back out of the tomb, the early sun begins to crest the horizon and spills effortlessly out upon the garden igniting it in hues of orange and red. Mary doesn’t know what to do. She is dumb-founded. Mary peers again into the tomb to make sure she has seen it correctly, as grief can often cloud the ruffled edges of judgment and understanding. Then…something catches her eye – two angelic forms standing beside the place where dead-Jesus had been laid. They speak to her. “Woman, why are you crying?” they ask…as if the meaning of death and loss meant nothing. But Mary swallows back tears and replies “They have taken away my Lord and I don’t know where they have put Him.” Uttering this very statement is like releasing the floodgates in a dam and her resolve breaks and so does her heart.

Suddenly, a shadow passes between her and the fire branded sunrise. It is the silhouette of a man. It MUST be the gardener coming to tend to the property before the hot sun engulfs and wilts the plants. It must be someone who knows something about where Jesus has be taken. Once again, the question is asked of her, this time by the man standing silhouetted in front of her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?” Again Mary sniffles and forces out a tired, bitter response amidst her flowing tears “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

She is at the end of her strength.
She is beyond heart-sick.
At the very least this can be done – recovering Jesus’ body.

Then, something remarkable happens – the dead speaks.
The man before her says one word that brings water to a desert.
This one word means more than the content of thousands of words meticulously strewn together in a book.
He speaks this one word and the storms of mourning cease.
He speaks this one word and shattered pieces of her heart become whole again.
“MARY.”
In her weakest state she recognizes just who He is.
In her tear-blurred eyes and flood of grieving heart, she finds renewed strength in His presence.
She calls out to Him by His respected title – ““Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

Mary is overwhelmed with joy.
She is filled with relief.
The sun, now in its fuller light shines upon the son of God in all of His resurrected glory.
He is alive!
_____________________________________________________________________________________
I keep coming back to this story because often we too keep going to back to the empty tombs in our lives.
We keep coming up with the wrong conclusions.
Doubt casts its shadow upon our faith and it weighs heavily on us.
Doubt blurs our resolve and shakes our foundations of belief.
We stoop down into that tomb time and time again and we forget that we do not serve a dead-savior, but a risen one.
We need to look up and see Him.
We need to recognize our teacher.
We need to find Him once more for ourselves.
He wipes away our tears and longs for us to cry out to Him.

Will you?
Something more to ponder today.
To God be the glory!

January 29, 2015 0

Dear Salvation Army, The Walking Dead…

Are you disillusioned?
Are you worn out?
Have you found yourself hanging by a thread at the end of your rope?

Are you the walking dead?
I’m not talking about a television show about Zombies…I’m talking about real life…real people…real issues…real hurts…real burdens…real walking dead.

There are moments when we are not able to provide the salve of healing for others because we ourselves are in need of healing.

There are moments when we need the saving instead of us donning our uniforms and reaching out to save others.

There are moments when we must go back to the well of refreshing and allow the Holy Spirit to replenish our dry and empty reserves.

Are you there today?
Are you the walking dead?
Are you in need of that well?
Are you in need of that salve for a burdened, hurting heart?

Don’t feel guilty…this isn’t selfish…this is necessary for you to carry on.
We cannot be self-sufficient apart from Him.
We cannot rely on our own sources of strength and power to carry us through the pathways of ministry that we are called to. We need help. We need to recharge. We need to recognize that we were never meant to become super soldier in this Army of Salvation. We were called to be faithful…and in this faithfulness we must rely on His strength and His direction.

Is this easy? No!
Do we constantly want to go our own direction, take the reins back, fight tooth and nail on the pathway He has led us? Yes!

Dear Salvation Army Soldier,
If you are the walking dead today…be resurrected! The Almighty can restore your life and give you hope in the midst of even the most hopeless of situations. Do we trust Him with everything?

If you feel all alone on your pathway in ministry…be assured you are not alone!
His holy presence longs to fellowship with you every mile of the path. He desires your fellowship and your conversations…even the most mundane. We come from all walks of life and yet we are bound together by this cause which is to meet human needs in His name and to live and desire Christ’s likeness in our lives.

Dear Soldier,
If you are the walking dead today be encouraged! You can be restored, reconciled to Him and your strength renewed! I do not know the struggles that you are facing right now but rest assured the Lord does. That may sound like a simple answer but it is no less the truth! He can bring you back to life. He can restore your ministry when you feel that it has flat-lined. He can rescue your passion and sense of purpose once again. Walk close to the Savior. Seek Him out. Be prepared to move from a place of death and barrenness to a place of fertile fields and rushing waters of rejuvenation of ministry, love, compassion and joy.

Be encouraged dear walking dead, our lives will be restored if we seek His face and run to Him!

Just something more for our Army world to ponder today!

October 24, 2014 0

Devotional Pondering – “I have to sacrifice WHAT???”

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” Romans 12:1

Just the idea alone of sacrificing or giving up something in our lives, at times, seems preposterous. Why would we ever want to sacrifice anything…it’s an honest confession, and a shared sentiment with many. Sacrifice can be a hard thing to do in our lives which often include more excess and over-excess rather than “less”. I’m sure you have heard the phrase “less is more” and in the case of the Holiness this certainly fits, at least in the practical physical sense.

Question: What are we willing to sacrifice in order to have a closer relationship with God?
Perhaps the idea of giving up something physical in your life bothers you. Perhaps knowing that the Lord requires this in order to help you grow seems hard even harsh. Let me ask you this – what consumes your day? Is it your job? Is it your pursuit of more stuff? Are you living beyond your current means? I don’t mean to pry but honestly mammon or the pursuit of stuff has ~~almost~~ become our worldly false god especially in the Western world. We see a new commercial on T.V. for the biggest and nicest car and we crave it. We go to a friend’s house and they show off their new 60′ television with all the new features and we covet it. Mammon – this pursuit of stuff has a way of choking our spiritual lives to death.

I’m not saying money or things are inherently evil, not at all. Some of these things are necessary items and can be used for good…but if it becomes our obsession, then perhaps we have placed things and “stuff” above God.

Sacrifice requires something from us. Sacrifice in the spiritual sense means we are willing to think more about our relationship with God and less about our own selfish wants and desires. Sacrifice is more than just a way of life it has to become a thought process and a lifestyle.

“he (Jesus) humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” -Philippians 2:8 (NLT)

If we are to become holy in our lifestyles, attitudes and actions, then we have to emulate the very attributes of Christ who became death, took death from us, and in so doing redeemed us. Humility, in the spiritual sense, goes hand in hand with becoming a living sacrifice for God and for the people around us (regardless if they are good or bad).

Prayer: Dear Lord, show me what a living sacrifice looks like. I have, at times, filled my life with pride, arrogance and things that attempted to replace you. Forgive me of this, help me to see the threat of mammon in my life and guide me in your truths…lead me Lord. I long to be like you, help me to see how I can become humble in spirit so that I may be your witness to the world around me. Help me to see others through your eyes and guide me in your truths. -Amen.

June 30, 2014 0

Tag: Resurrection