The Last Supper: Judas

You may have heard of me: my name is Judas. Yes, I attended the “last supper.” But my mind was elsewhere. Three years ago I’d been drawn to Jesus. I was so tired of the Roman rule I was ready to do anything to foster rebellion. How desperately I wanted our land back! Jesus seemed such a great candidate for rebellion. Everywhere He went people followed Him. They listened to His every word, ready to follow wherever He might go.
But He didn’t go where I wanted Him to go. I didn’t hear anti-Rome speeches. I didn’t hear calls to arms and action. I wondered if I had followed the wrong man. But He trusted me, putting me in charge of the groups’ treasure. Dutifully I gathered all the coins donated for His cause. I bought the food and other necessities for the group. 

But as I carried the money bags, something changed. With every step I took that money jingled. It called to me. “Jingle…jingle…jingle. Judas, just think what you could do with all this money!” No longer would time be wasted healing mobs of people who followed Jesus wherever he went. The longer I managed the money, the more it called to me. I began stealing from the group treasury, just a few coins at a time. A few coins here, a few coins there, and suddenly I had acquired a great amount of money.

No longer did I hang on every word Jesus spoke. All I heard was the jingling call of the coins. “Judas, Judas, take me. Take me! Think of all you can do with just a little more money.” Before long I had gone to the high priest and offered to betray Jesus. In exchange, he would give me thirty beautiful, jingly silver coins! I couldn’t wait.

During that “last supper” I had trouble concentrating. My mind kept wandering to the clink of the 30 pieces of silver dropping into my money bag. I knew just the place and time to betray Him, when no crowds would surround and protect him. Oh I could almost hear the clink of that money falling into my hands.

Jesus’ voice pulled me from my reverie. He was saying something about betrayal. All the other men started babbling at once. “Is it me?” “Not me, Lord?”

He looked at me and I quickly said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”

He answered, “Yes, it is you.”

Clearly, Jesus knew. I gathered my money bag and left the room, hurrying toward my silver and my future.

Palm Sunday

One sleepless night not too long ago, I lay awake, imagining what it must have been like to watch a king enter the ancient city of Jerusalem.

I can still see it vividly in my mind’s eye.  Before I can even glimpse the king, trumpets herald his arrival.  Soon 40 soldiers enter the crowded city, each proudly straddling a high-stepping stallion.  Eyes staring at the road ahead, the men ride ramrod straight, armor and weapons glinting in the sun.  Between the two groups of mounted soldiers rolls an ornate carriage, resplendent with gold leaf.  Four perfectly matched black stallions, crimson ribbons braided into their manes and tails, pull the carriage effortlessly.  In that carriage sits the perfectly tailored king, his brocade coat trimmed in ermine.  Rubies and emeralds adorn his fingers.  The golden crown, encrusted with precious stones, reflects the bright sunlight.  As he passes, the cheering throng bows low, each man hoping the king will scatter some coins his way.

How different was our King’s triumphal entry!  No trumpets heralded his arrival.  No soldiers, no horses came before Him.  Instead of an elaborate entourage, He was accompanied by a few simple men, broad shouldered and tanned from hard, outdoor work. They walked alongside Him, wearing roughly woven clothes.  Jesus sat astride a young donkey.  He wore no gold nor gems, but only a simple cloak and sandals.  Although Jesus had no coins to throw to the people, His intangible gifts were far more costly than gold.  A slight smile played at the corners of His mouth, but the dark brown eyes filled with sorrow.  In spite of His poverty and ordinary appearance, the people sensed something special about this man.  They loudly cheered, “Hosanna, King of Kings!” and lay palm branches at His feet.

How quickly the cries of the crowd changed!  A few short days later the cheers of “Hosanna” changed to jeers and shouts of “Crucify Him!  Crucify Him!”  Many of those who had proclaimed Him king now clamored for his death.  Even his closest friends ran away and denied they even knew him.

How, I wonder, could these people change so quickly?  How could they proclaim him king one day, and not even acknowledge his existence the next?  As I sit quietly and think, I realize, with humility and shame, that I have done the very same thing.  How many times have I gone on my merry way, never acknowledging Christ as the king of my life, never seeking His divine guidance?  How many times do I denying His existence by failing to speak out against injustice or not sharing His good news with another?  If He is truly king of my life, why do I not get down on my knees every day and praise my spiritual king?

Jesus, king of my life, help me to bow in humble obedience and recognition of your lordship in my life.

John 12:14 “Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written, ‘Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion; see, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.’”

Deep Tissue Massage

Recently I had a deep tissue massage. I had thought it would be just like a regular massage, only with more pressure. Not so! The therapist began by placing her elbow into one of the large muscles on my back and putting all her weight on me, pressing hard on the knotted muscle. From there she applied pressure all over the back, shoulder, arms and chest, even between the ribs. I’ll be honest here—it hurt! But as she applied the pressure, I could feel the knotted muscles loosening. I endured the pain, knowing it would result in greater comfort.

Physically, I feel better after a massage, but how does one massage away spiritual knots and pains? All of us have those pains, both recent and long ago, that flare up on occasion and keep us knotted up with sins of worry, fear, pride, anger, bitterness, or unforgiveness.  When we feel those spiritual knots of sin, we go to our heavenly Father for a spiritual massage. Yes, it will be painful, but afterward we will feel much better. The more often we visit our “masseuse,” the better we feel. During our spiritual massage we confess our sins, and ask for God’s forgiveness. Only then will His strength loosen the knots within us.

I John 1:8 & 9 “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

The Dawning of a New Day

There’s something magical about the early morning hours. Today, awakening at 5 am, earlier than usual, I walked through the darkened house, barely able to see my way. Ever so gradually, the darkness thinned to gray, allowing me clearer vision. Through the sheer curtains at our dining room’s sliding glass doors, I witnessed an ever brightening sky. Drawn by the light, I pulled back the curtains and watched the horizon lighten: first pale gray, then a blush of pink, then golden light. As daylight dawned, the world outside my door came into focus: the patio, the trees, my neighbor’s homes. Before long, the sun shone brightly in the eastern sky: a new day had begun.

In the early morning stillness, I have time to reflect. There have been times in my life that I walked through darkness: times of illness and difficulties kept me stumbling in the dark, days that I struggled to find my way. In those times of darkness I’ve learned to put my trust in God, to allow Him to illuminate my path. As I’ve trusted in Him, my vision has improved and I’ve been able to put one foot in front of the other, following His light. Whenever I watch the light, the world around me comes into focus and I see, step by step, the pathway ahead.

Thank you, Father, for this new day. Help me to trust in you to guide my steps today.

Psalm143:8 “Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.”

A Blanket of White

On Sunday morning the light streaming through my bedroom window awakened me, telling me it was about 7 am, time to get up. But when I looked at my watch, I saw it was only 5 am! For a second my sleepy mind couldn’t sort out this dilemma, but then I remembered: when I had gone to bed Saturday night, it was snowing outside! A covering of snow always reflects the light.

Those of you who hate winter and snow may struggle with this next concept, but when I thought about the snow, I became like a little child again. I jumped out of bed, hurried to the window, and flipped on the outside light. Sparkling in my back porch light, two inches of snow blanketed the yard. Overnight, winter’s drab landscape had changed to a white fairyland. The dead, brown grass disappeared under the snowy blanket, and the barren trees wore sparkling white accessories.

 There’s something special about freshly-fallen snow. It causes the world to look pristine in its winter finery, making winter’s plain face beautiful once again. Winter’s white blanket insulates the plants and muffles extraneous noises. Under its blanket, the world quiets and stills. On a cold, snowy day I love to curl up under a warm blanket, drink a cup of hot tea, and read a good book. If the snowy blanket is deep enough, activities and work come to a standstill. Many rejoice in the lull from routine activities and a time to be still. People stay cocooned in their homes instead of scurrying to numerous activities.

When I allow my soul to be blanketed in God’s spirit, the same changes occur. What was drab and colorless becomes white and sparkling as God’s spirit reflects His light and love. Even though the world around me may spin out of control, His spirit allows my soul to stay still and calm, resting in Him. Just as the blanket of snow insulates the earth, God insulates me against the clamor and coldness of the world and keeps my focus on Him.

Father God, wrap the blanket of Your Spirit around me that may soul may be still and reflect Your love.

Galatians 5:22 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

A Bouquet of Roses

Ladies, do you remember how you felt the first time someone sent you a bouquet of roses?  The gentleman who sent them thought very highly of you, and his gift made you feel very special and very loved, didn’t it?  You may have laughed or cried, but you certainly expressed joy at the beauty of the roses and the loving gesture of the one who sent them. 

Gentlemen, do you remember how you felt the first time you sent someone a bouquet of roses?  You loved that lady very much and hoped that this expression of your love would be pleasing to her and make her love you too.  You eagerly anticipated her response to your lovely gift. 

Do you enjoy looking at flowers or pictures of flowers?  Whether pictures, cut flowers bought from a florist or growing in your own garden, flowers are gifts from God.  He loves us very much, and he hopes we will appreciate his gifts and love him even more.  Just like a suitor who sends his loved ones flowers, God’s gift of fragrant flowers woos us to His side.  May we receive his gifts with joy, appreciation, and a desire to love him too.

Oh God, lover of my soul, open my eyes to the ways you woo me.  Whenever I see a fragrant flower, let me realize that this precious gift has come from You.  Let me respond with joy and gratitude to your countless gifts of love. 

Song of Songs 2:12-13 “Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land…. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.”

Mired in the Muck

After an extremely dry fall and winter, it finally rained. All day the water poured from the heavens in a steady stream. Water ample enough to soak the earth and fill the streams refreshed the dried landscape.

I waited for a couple of days after the rainfall to venture out to the nature trails. Many of the trails are sandy, so I hoped it wouldn’t be too muddy for my walk. Fortunately, most of the trails were dry enough to walk without totally coating my shoes in mud.

 Occasionally, though, I passed those dark curves in the pathway where the sun rarely shines, and where there is no sand. In these wide, shaded places the pathway was nothing but dark, oozy mud. Carefully, I skirted around those muddy quagmires, stepping on grassy spots, twigs or rocks to keep from sinking into the muck.

As I maneuvered around the muddy places, I remembered a time, as a little girl, when the mud was oh, so attractive! Walking in my rubber rain boots, I loved to squish through the mud, thoroughly enjoying the gooshy, slippery black mess. On one occasion, however, I learned not to stomp through the mud.

On that day I stepped into the middle of an especially gooey mud puddle, and stepping forward, I heard a loud sucking noise. My foot refused to move, for my boot was totally captured by the squishy mud. When I struggled to release my boot, my foot came out of my shoe and my boot and I found myself in the middle of the mud puddle with neither boot nor shoe. My feeble little-girl strength was not enough to extricate my boot and shoe from its muddy confines. Fortunately for me, my older, stronger brother (after a good laugh at my expense) pulled my boot out of the mud and I was able to continue home. Once there, I had a muddy mess to clean up before I could step one foot in the house. That day I learned not to walk through mud puddles.

Adults generally steer clear of the mud when they can. It’s the metaphorical mud that becomes enticing. As we wander on life’s pathway, we will invariably get stuck in the mud. At times, we all like to wander into the muck and get dirty. What is that mucky mess we wander into? That varies, depending on the person and the pathway he or she walks. Some of us step into the middle of self-righteousness—“my way is the right way and I won’t listen to anything else.” Others love to wallow in guilt, self-pity, or gossip. Still others become mired in the muck of addictions: food, material goods, entertainment, pornography, alcohol, cigarettes, or illegal drugs.

Whatever mud lies in the pathway, it is wise to avoid it at all costs. Once we step into the middle of that mud puddle, we become hopelessly mired in the muck. Fortunately for us, there is One strong enough to get us out of the muck, help us find our way home, and cleanse away all the mud.

I John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all righteousness.”

 Oh, Lord, guide our footsteps and keep us out of the mud.