Category: Jesus Moments

Jesus’ prayer, just hours before His arrest, reads almost like His last words to the Father about His friends. “Sanctify them in the truth; Your word is truth.” John 17:17. He loved His Father, loved truth, and wanted Scripture to live deeply within His disciples, no matter what circumstances awaited them.

Some days, God’s Word feels like a feast, and I treasure it. Other days, when it exposes something I would ignore, I have to ask God to change my affections so I can treasure His Word more than my own comfort.

Some days I’m prone to worry. Do I love His words that confront my fear? There are moments when I’m depressed over my mistakes. Do I receive His words about new mercies? I can quietly nurse a grudge. Do I treasure His words about forgiveness? I can easily be like a child who loves the commands that affirm me while resisting the ones that challenge my will. Jesus loved and honored the Word with His whole heart and His whole life. No war existed within Him between righteousness and desire, but that war certainly exists in me.

Every day brings circumstances that test my love for God’s ways. I do not instinctively love His Word when it corrects me or calls me out of something emotionally familiar. When Jesus beckons me to leave old feelings and patterns that fit like a favorite shirt and worn pair of jeans, I need Him to show me what they really are. They are grave clothes, but He is calling me out of the tomb into resurrection life.

That sounds beautiful until resurrection requires me to surrender something I have mistaken for part of myself. The Light can feel harsh when I have grown accustomed to darkness. I may even become offended with the very truth sent to free me. My flesh can become astonishingly attached to what is slowly killing it.

So I ask God again and again to change not only my behavior, but my desires. I want to love what He loves, especially when His truth crosses something deeply ingrained in me.

And somewhere between offense and obedience, something changes. I step toward the truth I resisted and discover that it was opening the tomb all along. Freedom came first, and delight eventually followed.

I need Your grace to desire Your Word every single time.  Amen

Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before Him.  Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they?  Has no one condemned you?”  She said, “No one, sir.”  And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you.  Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”  John 8:9-11

Jesus did not abolish the law of Moses. He simply turned its searching light toward the woman’s accusers. They wanted to see her pay for her sin while remaining strangely blind to their own. God does not prorate sin according to how public or scandalous it appears.

As the sun continued to rise in the early morning dawn, the judges disappeared.  The voyeurs fled.  The accusers vanished.  Stones hit the ground one by one, and as they fell, I can imagine the woman’s disbelief.  The iron grips on her arm loosened as the vengeance of the hot-blooded Pharisees began to dissipate under the convicting presence of Jesus.

Within minutes, only two people remained standing. The sun’s warming rays bathed the encounter as Jesus and the woman faced each other. She had never seen such a pure gaze—one that knew everything about her and still held nothing but love and compassion.

John revealed Jesus at the beginning of his Gospel as “full of grace and truth.” No story showcased this more beautifully. Jesus was gracious and truthful. He withheld condemnation while refusing to call her sin anything other than what it was. “Go, and do not sin again.” Grace did not excuse her past. It released her from being defined by it.

I do not know what happened to the woman when she went home. Did her friends keep pointing fingers? Did her family shun her? Would the man she had been involved with punish her for turning him down the next time? If so, she could draw strength by reliving those beautiful moments with Jesus. She would remember how tenderly He addressed her and how He gave her something no one else could give—love that knew the truth, forgiveness without humiliation, and permission to begin again.

Sometimes others never forget our sins. But You, Lord? When accusation rises, help me rehearse the beautiful moments when You touched me, forgave me, and lifted my face. Amen

While Jesus was here on earth, he offered prayers and pleadings, with a loud cry and tears, to the one who could rescue him from death.  Hebrews 5:7

How many people communicate their thoughts and feelings without filtering themselves first? How many can say what hurts, what scares them, what makes them angry, and know they will not be mishandled? Precious few. To be completely honest and completely safe at the same time is a rare gift.

Scripture uses the phrase pour out your soul, and I love how physical that sounds. It is not measured nor is it neat and tidy. It is tipping the heart and letting everything spill out before God. Jesus did this in Gethsemane. He cried, pleaded, and wept. He told His Father plainly that He did not want what was coming. There was no performance in His prayer, only raw truth.

And yet we often feel the need to edit ourselves with God. Anger gets softened into disappointment. Fear becomes mild concern. Feelings of abandonment are covered up with less desperate language. But God already knows what’s underneath the careful wording. He hurts for us when we present a polished version of what He already sees in full.

What if our prayer lives progressed to a place where our souls finally stopped managing themselves? What if we consistently poured out the whole contents of our heart, the grief, resentment, dread, confusion, even our longings, and trusted that perfect Love will hold all of it without turning away?

Hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. Romans 5:5

Finally, I am riveted by the beauty of two things: 1.) Running to Abba, tipping my heart toward Him, and pouring out everything I have been swallowing. And, 2.) Envisioning what will happen on the other side of surrender when Abba pours Himself back into the emptied places, flooding my heart with His love through the Holy Spirit.

Lord, I pour out what I’ve been holding in. Pour into me what will hold me steady. Your love. Your grace. Your compassion. Amen

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Matthew 6:13

We are engaged in a battle with the enemy of our souls.  Temptations abound.  Condemning thoughts threaten our peace.  Doubts erode our confidence in Abba.  Fear cripples our faith.  Anger undermines our belief in God’s justice.

This is a global war, not a solitary one.  Forgetting that, I can fail to disclose my struggles to my spiritual sisters. I can begin to think that something is wrong with me if I battle temptation, fear, anger, and doubt.  I can easily view myself as someone who disappoints God.  I can assume others are more advanced spiritually.  I can be inclined to feel a sense of shame over the things that plague me.

This perception is untrue.  We are all in the same predicament.  Spiritual power to resist our enemy and achieve victory is collectively ours if we bare our burdens to one another with discretion.  We’re family.  The same royal blood courses through our spiritual veins.  War has been declared on us simply because of Whom we belong to.  We need to be vulnerable with each other.  We can stand firm as long as we stand together.

You will come against arrows of opposition today.  They may be numerous, causing you to believe that the power behind them is formidable.  But you do not fight alone.  I link my arm with yours.  We sing a song of deliverance.  The song is contagious, for as our voices are heard, more daughters begin to learn this song of hope.  There is strength in numbers.  The battle is transformed from a senseless massacre to an overwhelming victory.

Together with my sisters, Lord, we create a daunting line of defense.  Amen

When the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”  John 20:19

The disciples are undone. They had grown to love Jesus with the kind of love that changes the whole shape of a life. He had spoken to them of a kingdom, and they believed Him. But only days earlier, they had watched Him be arrested, condemned, and crucified. Now everything inside them is shaking. The future they thought they were stepping into seems to have collapsed. So they gather behind locked doors—to grieve together, and to hide.

And if sorrow were not enough, fear is there too. If this is what they did to Him, what will they do to us?

Yet into that shut-up, trembling room, Jesus comes. He enters the very place they have sealed off. Not as an intruder breaking in, but as the risen Redeemer coming to His own.

He knows how to enter rooms we have closed tight, the places where the light has gone dim, and hope has lost its edges. No locked place is beyond His reach. The risen Christ comes into spaces barred by unbelief, trauma, sorrow, and shame. He is not unsettled by our fear, nor silenced by our silence. He comes carrying the finished peace of His cross. It is a peace purchased by His blood and made unshakably true by His resurrection.

Lord Jesus, speak Your peace where our hearts have forgotten how to rest. Amen

As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.” Then he went up and touched the stretcher they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” 15 The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. Luke 7:12-16

A dead son, an only son, was touched by Jesus. He rose to life and then ‘Jesus gave him back to his mother.’   In 2 Kings 4, Elisha laid on the dead son of a godly woman, her only son, and this boy also rose to life. The story concludes with the same line. ‘And he gave the boy back to his mother.’

There are circumstances only God can change. There are people only God can transform. There are loved ones we need to relinquish into God’s hands to do what only He can do. When He’s done, they return to us as different people.  For this mother from Nain, it wasn’t hard for her to let Jesus enter the picture. Things were desperate and death was the end of the road. But in the land of the living, we play the Savior —- trying to fix, inspire, motivate, chide —- and we don’t realize that it’s necessary to step back in order to let God step close. Loving from afar is difficult when we’ve been the caretaker. Entrusting them to Jesus’ care doesn’t seem like the most loving thing to do. His way of bringing about a yielded life is usually much more severe than ours. We like to cushion people to make their journey as easy as possible but Jesus is not so much about comfort as He is holiness. And isn’t that what we want for them? Is any divine measure too unkind if it culminates in surrender? Is any wound too bad if it is a saving wound?

For whom do I want change so badly that I stand in the way of God? Ultimately, it’s an issue of trust. Do I trust God with someone with whom I’ve been intimately involved? Wrapping my arms around a person and bringing them to the Savior in prayer is not failure on my part. It is the beginning of their redemptive story if they will just bow at the feet of Jesus.

Help us know how to apply this. People need You first, then we can love each other. Father us and help us relinquish control. Amen

Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. And I am the worst sinner of all. I Tim. 2:15

Parenting is hard work and though it’s so very rewarding, it can be painful at times. Ask God. He created, fathered, and sacrificed, only to see the majority of His creation use His name in vain, shake their fist at Him, and chalk up His character as mean, stingy, and vengeful. I’ve heard more than one person say, “What has He ever done for me?”

If you’ve been a parent, it would be like crawling on your hands and knees from San Francisco to Maine to prove your love to your child.  But you arrive, only to have your child say, “You’ve never done anything for me!” With knees still bloody from the journey, you wouldn’t believe your ears nor begin to fathom such blindness to sacrificial love.

Yeshua means ‘savior’.  Jesus came to save. Dying for our sins was His response to the wounds He sustained in the Garden of Eden. The pain was severe. God does grieve. God does weep. The plan of redemption came as a response to our alienation from Him. He asked His Son to leave glory, put on mortal flesh, suffer rejection and persecution at the hands of those He created, and then die the worst death possible to buy us back with His blood.  And yet, the gift seems like a trifle to so many. I contend that, for me, the cross is not just central to Easter, it’s central to every day. At the epicenter of something so gruesome was a love so exquisite that I’ll never be able to fully internalize the power of it.

In closing, here’s another picture. After completing your San Francisco/Maine journey, you see your child waiting for you over the finish line. He is cheering, arms open to receive you, and his face is stained with tears. Today, I offer grateful tears  to Jesus, Yeshua. I cheer Him as being my Savior and Deliverer.

For the many years I treated You casually and the cross recklessly, forgive me. Amen

He himself bore our sins in his own body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live to righteousness.  I Pet.2:24

When someone has hurt me, seeing them reminds me of what they did.  Even after I forgive them, I can still remember when I see them across the room.

When God forgives me, he separates my sin from me.  I no longer wear it when He looks at me.  One of the words for ‘forgive’ is to ‘send away’.  This is what Peter meant when he said, “He himself bore our sins in his own body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live to righteousness.”  I Pet.2:24  God took that ‘thing’ for which I repented, took it off of me and put it on Jesus.  Jesus died for it as if He was the One who committed it.  And in turn, Jehovah Tsidkenu clothed me with His own righteousness.

So why wallow in past failures?  Why let my one huge mistake weigh down my spirit?  Jesus took it from me, paid the penalty, and justified me.  When He looks at me, He sees His own perfection.  

I echo David’s words to himself in Psalm 42. “Why are you so downcast, oh my soul?”  Satan is the author of a self-punishing lifestyle.  He takes every failure, magnifies it by a thousand, records it like a movie and plays it over and over again in my head.  He rejoices when I am hard on myself.  He encourages payback and self-hatred.  Unlike Jesus, he offers a heavy robe of guilt and it can appear to fit just right.  Right color.  Right size.  Right length.

When I can’t hold my head up, I remember that I am not my sin!  Christ wore my sin, once and for all, on a cross.  Then He declared, “It is finished.”  Sin, forever removed.  So, who am I?  A forgiven, justified, righteous, child of Jehovah Tsidkenu.

Do I really understand justification yet, Lord?  Write this on my heart.  Amen

As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him…and jumped into the water.  John 21:7

Peter was known as the impetuous one ~ more than all the other disciples.  He had a big heart, expressed himself with passion, and acted impulsively.  But this also got him into trouble.  His public bravado regarding an unwavering allegiance to Jesus came back to bite him.  It was just hours later that he would betray Jesus three times in the course of an hour.

After the resurrection, the disciples were in a boat.  John spotted Jesus on the shore and told Peter.  Peter threw himself into the sea to get there first.  This is typical of Peter’s personality yet I’m amazed at his boldness so soon after the humiliation of sin.

How did Peter know that his relationship with Jesus was intact?  How could he be so sure that Jesus would be pleased to see him?  Peter had never read the New Testament passages on grace.  They hadn’t been written yet.  He had no theological degree.  He just knew Jesus.  That was all.  That was enough.

Being forgiven with full restoration is a rare thing in this world.  We don’t expect it.  If we sin against someone severely enough, we never dare hope to gain their full trust.  We hang back, afraid to approach the one we wronged with any sense of confidence.  We read their facial expressions and body language to discern where we stand.  If we sense ambivalence, we wait from a distance.

When Jesus forgives, he puts our sins behind his back.  He never brings them out again to accuse us and remind us of what we’ve done.  We can approach him as Peter did.  Whether we throw ourselves into the sea or run across the threshold into his embrace, we can be assured of warm and happy reunion.

I always know where I stand with you, Lord.  Thank you for such extravagant forgiveness.