PSALM 124 - Whose Side is God On?

If it had not been the Lord Who was on our side--let Israel say now--if it had not been the Lord Who was on our side when people rose against us, then they would have swallowed us up alive when their anger kindled against us.  (Verses 1-3)

If God is for us, who can be against us?  Romans 8

When Jesus prayed for us all to be one as He and the Father are one, I know He believed that is not only possible, but necessary. But what happens when we are at odds with our brothers and sisters? When we think we're right and they think they're right and we can't seem to reach an agreement? Or our relationships are breached completely because we can't see eye-to-eye? What then. Which side is God on?

I'm not going to answer that question. I know. Then why ask it, because it happens to all of us if we venture very far from our own front door? I don't know the answer, but I'm swimming in the situation now. A time when those I love with all my heart are estranged over disagreement. And I don't want to be right so much as I want to be precisely in the middle of God's will doing what He asked me to do. I know they feel the same. So, what to do?

In my walk with Jesus I must constantly remember that He isn't always, or maybe ever, doing what I think He is. As He sees the whole of my life stretched out before me, has already walked out there in  the future into the things He's prepared for me, Jesus isn't a bundle of nerves wondering how it's all going to turn out. I know He's on my side. Working out in me what needs to be done. Moving deeply, also, in the lives of my brothers and sisters. And sometimes that looks like we won't ever agree with one another. Where God is taking me because He's on my side leads down a different path. Perhaps I must just wave good-bye for now and press on as they must, too. It's my heart I want to protect in the process. Guarded against judgment, offense and anger. My Father loves all His children the same. And we all need to know Him in ways that are specific to our lives and our purposes. I know I relate imperfectly, often rushing into situations like I'm trying to save a drowning man. It's hard for me to get my heart and mind still. In fact, I'd have to say I know what's wrong with me to a much greater degree than I could break out a list of what's right. Abba isn't about taking sides in an argument. He's about changing our hearts and minds so we look ever more like Him. He's all for that! 

God is on my side. Like a dad who sticks up for his daughter then later tells her what she did wrong...or right. The never-ending process of being a child of His. And if I didn't believe that my Father is on my side...and theirs...I'd be completely swallowed up by circumstances. Bereft and despairing. But I'm not. Today I know He's got us all right there in His hand. I must learn my lessons and move on into God's plans just as those brothers and sisters we find ourselves at odds with must go on. Our unity exists in the fact that we still have the same Father, Who, counter intuitively, can be on our sides when we are on different sides of the fence. And one day, when we gather to dinner together with Jesus, we won't remember what divided us as we sit family style and rejoice in our togetherness. I know we can do better here on Earth. I want that in my own heart to the degree it is up to me. Past that, all I can do is walk on, walk on. If God is for me, for my growth in Him, for the perfecting of my heart and for my brothers and sisters, too, then we won't be swallowed up in anger. What, indeed, would we do if the Lord weren't on our side--say it Christians--what would we do?

PSALM 123 - I've Had More Than Enough of This!

Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt. Our soul has had more than enough of the scorn of those who are at ease, of the contempt of the proud.   (Verses 3-4)

Mercy triumphs over judgment.  James 2:13

Up for the third straight night stretched out before the Lord in my place of prayer downstairs. I have a burdened heart. Not just for myself, but for others who it seems to me, have just "had enough." Enough of being stuck in the same old rut. Enough of the cancer that ravages the body and the chemo that brings nausea, pain and sleepless, seemingly eternal, nights and days. Enough of struggling for excellence and feeling bypassed and ignored. Enough of praying the same prayers day after day for years without answer or closure. Waiting. Waiting. Enough already!

I read a quote by T. D. Jakes a couple of days ago. "Most believers think God works when the blessing comes. That's not true! God is working on you and your faith when the blessing is delayed!" Or, as Vanessa so poignantly put it, God is teaching us how to trust in total darkness. When we have no idea what He is doing, we need to know that He is "doing." I'm pretty sure what I am learning from my recent experiences and in the onlooker's view of those struggling around me, is to give God credit for working things out in the supernatural that we can't do in the natural. And to have mercy on ourselves, not just on others.

Need a little mercy for yourself today? I do. I've been brutally judging my giftings and abilities the past few days. Wondering if they are usable or if I've squandered a few years of my life on things that God doesn't want to bless. Giving to others the power to define me. A power they don't want, even. You know, that stops us cold when we do that. Puts up a roadblock that says, "You can't" or "You aren't." So, I'm done with that today. Enough is enough. My God says who I am. My Father dictates my self worth. Mercy. Mercy. Let it go. (Sorry for all you mothers who are sick to death of that Frozen song!)

As for the others I cry out for, if today is not the last day of the struggle and the cup of suffering still has dregs to be poured out, I ask our God for mercy there, with all my heart. And grace to push through as Jesus did on the cross. To drink to the last drop until it is finished. To have unfathomable courage to wait for their salvation. I know that many nights they have questioned, "Why the affliction?". What did they do wrong to deserve their horrendous plight? Again, they must have mercy for themselves. Judging the illness to be some retribution from God is counter-productive to relaxing into His will with the knowledge that Jesus is in the suffering with them. Our God drives our lives toward glory in a fallen world filled with disease and disappointment. By His great mercy we are not overwhelmed.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. When you walk through fire you will not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." God. Isaiah 43

 

PSALM 123 - Ear Piercing

To You I lift up my eyes, O You Who are enthroned in the heavens! Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till He has mercy on us.  (Verses 1-2)

But if the slave plainly says, "I love my master, my wife and my children; I will not go free," then his master shall bring him to God, and he shall bring him to the door or the doorpost. And his master shall bore his ear through with an awl, and he shall be his slave forever. Exodus 21

In sacrifice and offering You have not delighted, but You have pierced my ear. Psalm 40:6

One of those mornings for me. When I feel emptied. On more than one level of my life, I don't know what God is doing. My body functions the way it needs to, going about my day with meetings and phone calls, but my soul is stretched out before Him in quite another place. Like I left it on the floor this morning when I rose up from my prayer time. And throughout the day, when there is a moment, I join my soul there prostrate. I spent some time worshipping my God this morning, singing songs that, as I think about it now, I believe He was singing to me. Reminding me to look up. To take a deep breath. To joy in Him.

Exodus 21 gives the guidelines for the keeping of Hebrew slaves. The master of such a man can only keep the slave for six years. On the seventh, the slave is to be set free. If he came to the master without a wife, the slave leaves without one. If he had a wife, she may go with him. If the master gave the slave a wife, the wife and the children born to her belong to the master. The slave must leave alone. But if the slave loves his master, loves his family more than any particular freedom, he may stay forever in the master's home. When the slave declares his love for the Master, the Master and the slave make a vow to God. It is then that the servant is led to the doorpost where the slave's earlobe is stretched against the wooden post and pierced with an awl. The bloody ear of the slave a sign of love and submission.

My Master has, thus, pierced my ear. Called me to be His bondslave. To follow Him and obey. To listen to His instructions and do what He says whether I understand or not. This may sound strange to those who are slaves to something or someone else. But I've been set free from all that used to hold me hostage. And, trust me, I was a hostage. What drew me to this Master is His great love for me. Yes, Jesus asks me to go to work with Him. To plow up not only the fields of my own heart, but to take the hoe to less fertile ground in an effort to introduce the vast enslaved to His great kingdom. I am called to trust my God's wisdom and subjugate my own will to His, knowing Jesus will never abuse me or strip me of my dignity. Never task me with a chore He isn't yoked together with me to finish. I love my Master and choose to stay with Him.

That doesn't mean that sometimes, from my less wise position, I don't look into His eyes and try to find some understanding there. To lock His gaze and peer more deeply for a while in the hope I find in their depths a panacea for pain or a pattern for my perplexity. Wanting without words to absorb the Master's calm. To make it mine just by looking on His face. And here is the beautiful thing about the One I serve. He peers back at me. Searches my gaze. Touches my face. Assures me, even in my confusion, that He is prescient--all-wise. "Follow Me." The wordless command. "There is today to do." And I will not know where I am going if I don't look at the Master.

This piercing I wear--the mark of my following after Jesus--cost me only the submission of my life to Him. It is how those around me know I am a slave of my own free will. Most masters, however, are not marked by such a scar. They have not bought with their own flesh the hearts of their slaves. The One I serve paid for my freedom--with His life. The scars are evident in His hands and feet and side. Today I work side by side with a Master so in love with me that buying me back from my former masters was His greatest joy. I am reminded that, no matter where we dig today, what field we plow or wall we repair, what river we dredge or plants we water, my greatest joy will be that I belong to Him. My ear is pierced. Let's get to work.
 

PSALM 122 - Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem!

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! May they be secure who love you! Peace be within your walls and security within your towers! For my brothers and companions' sake I will say, "Peace be within you!" For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your good. (Verses 6-9)

And when He drew near and saw the city, He wept over it, saying, "Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you when your enemies will set up a barricade around you and surround you and hem you in on every side and tear you down to the ground, you and your children within you, because you did not know the time of your visitation." Jesus, Luke 19

Jerusalem. The Holy City was the seat of Judaism. It swarmed with Pharisees and scribes, holy men who interpreted the tomes of Jewish laws they'd derived from the original commandments of God. On a mount within the city stood the Temple, conceived and created by Solomon centuries before. Deep within its heart was the Holy of Holies where God Himself appeared once a year as shekinah glory, gleaming white hot and powerful. Into His presence one priest once a year dared to come, carrying with him the prayers of the people who needed forgiveness for another year's sins. The Temple was holy because God lived there. And God lived there because it's always been His desire to be with those He loves.

When Jesus came into Jerusalem amidst the hosannas as the young donkey on which he rode stepped onto the palm branches laid in their path, He knew. Knew that by Passover the praises would become jeers. Knew the fickle crowds would join in with the priests of their faith and crucify their own Messiah. Because they didn't recognize their salvation. God with them. Emmanuel. Jesus cried as He rode in their midst. He knew what was ahead for them. Understood all He could have saved them from. I think He also cried because He knew, since they didn't realize He was Messiah, they also would not understand He is the physical, once-for-all sacrifice for their sins. There would be no more temple in a few short years. No more sacrifices offered for centuries until our time. Jesus was the bloodied lamb. No need for another.

By 70 A.D., Titus had destroyed the Temple. Josephus Flavius described it from his firsthand account. The Romans surrounded Jerusalem, choking it as they scaled the fortified walls and overran the mount, brutally butchering all Jewish people in their way. The troops stormed the Temple, setting it on fire as the people tried desperately to stop the carnage. "The Temple Mount, everywhere enveloped in flames, seemed to be boiling over from its base; yet the blood seemed more abundant than the flames and the numbers of the slain greater than those of the slayers. The soldiers climbed over heaps of bodies as they chased the fugitives." (Josephus) In the aftermath, the Jews were dispersed, no longer having a country. Until 1948 and the Zionist movement. We live in a significant time. Let's not miss this visitation.

How does the story end this time?  I saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Revelation 21

Our God so wants to live in our midst that He came as the conquering Savior to destroy the works of the enemy of our souls. He will have His way. That's how much He loves us. We have been created for an eternity with God, our Father. John says, in Revelation 21, "..and I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day--and there will be no night there...But nothing unclean will ever enter it, not anyone who is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb's book of life. The purpose of the Temple was to give God a fitting place to dwell on earth. One day the shekinah glory will engulf us, no longer shrunken to a small glowing ball of light, but expanded to the outreaches of eternity to bathe us in His glory. Jerusalem no longer an earthly location, a metropolis devoid of its former glory, but heaven. Home with our Father and the Son who shines within it.

PSALM 122 - Dinner At Our House!

Jerusalem--built as a city that is bound firmly together, to which the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, as was decreed for Israel, to give thanks in the name of the Lord. There thrones for the judgment were set, the thrones of the house of David.   (Verses 3-5)

"I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that You have sent Me. The glory that You have given Me, I have given them, that they may be one even as We are one, I in them and You in Me, that they may become perfectly one."  Jesus     John 17

The heart of God is that we are a united family, bound together by the Holy Spirit indwelling us, living in harmony. Not automatons without original thought or devoid of specific personalities. But kids with the same Father and His spiritual genes creating a new, unique person with a singular place in the larger family. That we sit at the table together conversing from the same place of heart. We all are one. Bear the family name. Protect the family ideals. Love each other for our similarities and for our differences. Born this time of spirit, our fleshly heritage now controlled by the life of our Father, not by the whims of our earthly desires. One.

It's always an adventure to have dinner with the Farish clan when we all get together. Bill and I purposed even before we had children that we would allow them to express themselves as long as they weren't sassing us or trying to simply get their way. I remember growing up wishing I could ask pertinent questions about God without looking like I didn't believe in Him any more. My Mother was horrified and my father didn't have any answers, so I just shut up. We wanted our children to ask. And we wanted to find the answers with them if we didn't know. Turns out our kids are three very distinct individuals with very diverse opinions. They love to argue. They're smart enough to spend hours doing so. I know to some, our dinner parties look like they need a referee (sometimes they actually do), but generally speaking, iron sharpens iron when they get together. It's okay that they don't always agree on everything. They have room to be individuals. God's family is no different. What happens so often in the church is dogma kills the home. You can just get out if you don't agree with me! kinda thing. It's certainly not what Jesus died for.

I love the last chapter of the book of John. Several of the disciples had been out on the Sea of Tiberias all night, fishing. Catching nothing. At daybreak, they saw a man standing on the shore. They didn't know it was Jesus at the time. "Children!" the man yelled, "did you catch anything last night?" "No!" they called back. "Throw your nets out into the water from the right side of the boat, and you'll find some!" So they did. Filled the nets so full they couldn't get all the fish back into the boat. "It's the Lord!" John understood the moment best. Peter couldn't wait to see him. Had denied  three times that He even knew Jesus. Loved Him so much, though. Jumped from the boat and swam to embrace the man on the shore. Who'd called them--children.

They all sat down to eat a breakfast of fish grilled over a charcoal fire. Together. The Father of reborn sons eating with His kids. John, the one who'd stayed by the cross--the only one who didn't fail Jesus. Peter, the zealot who'd promised he'd die for Jesus, yet denied he knew Jesus before his own life was even threatened. Thomas who doubted Jesus had risen. Argued that he'd have to see the scars in His hands before he'd believe such a thing. James, the fiery brother of John. Quick to speak. It's what I like about the family dynamic of their new relationship. They weren't one in their personalities. They were united because they loved the same Jesus with all their hearts. And Jesus picks this moment to address Peter's denial. Breakfast with the family. Really? They all knew what Peter had done. They all knew what they had done. "Peter, do you love Me more than these brothers do, who sit here with us?" What a question. Talk about stirring up controversy. But, remember, Peter had said, "I don't know what these other guys will do, but I love you enough to die for you!" That last night at dinner. In front of them all. So once again at a meal, a proclamation is demanded. "Yes, Lord, You know that I love You." Head down, heart thumping. Peter could've lived forever without having to address the issue of his denial. "Then feed my lambs." Jesus wouldn't let it drop. Three denials. Three times the question. "Peter, do you love Me?"  Finally Peter answers, "Lord, You know everything. You know I love You!"

The next thing Jesus does, however, is prophesy how Peter will die. "When you are old, you will stretch out your hands and another will take you where you don't want to go." Suddenly Peter's heart seized up. "Follow Me," Jesus commanded next. Still love Me now? Peter was no doubt feeling singled out, vulnerable. The only death Jesus predicted was his. How fair was that? "What about John?" asked Peter as he looked over at the brother who'd done it right. The one who'd leaned on Jesus at Passover meal and asked, "Who is it that will betray You?" That one. The good one. What about him?

Jesus allowed this question. Brothers finding themselves in different places in the family dynamic. Jesus didn't say, "How dare you asked such a question after what you did?" Didn't condemn. Answered the question with the authority of the head of the family. "If I let John live until I come again, what's that to you. You follow Me." Because that's the only way the family is going to stay together. If we each follow Him. Peter's walk didn't look like John's. John's didn't look like his brother's. What binds us together is the Spirit of Christ, Jesus actually living in each of us as individuals with varied personalities revealing Himself to us as we need it for His glory and for our good. Each with different gifts that are given to us to create unity of body. Not supposed to be jealous of your gift, leaving me less time to use my own. We are supposed to rejoice in the place each of our brothers and sisters has in our family. And take any infighting (which there probably will be) to the Father, together.

Our family is one--Farishes. We are divergent, though. Oh, man. We are. But we are bound together by our intense love for each other and by our deep love for the same Father. There is room for us to disagree. There isn't room for us to judge or condemn. Ask questions. Go ahead. The Father isn't intimidated by them. But since the new Jerusalem--heaven--is where our larger spiritual family is bound, we need to be intentional about keeping together as the church.
 

PSALM 122 - I Couldn't Wait for Heaven!

I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the Lord!" Our feet have been standing within your gates, O Jerusalem!   (Verses 1-2)

"Come let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that He may teach us His ways and that we may walk in His paths."...For all the peoples walk each in the name of its god, but we will walk in the name of our God forever and ever. Micah 4: 2,5

I was listening to the pastor of the church we visited yesterday talk of his early days in a liturgical church he attended. Sitting in the balcony, he'd scribble on the back of the bulletin waiting for the break between services when he would be able to scrounge a donut from the adult Sunday school dismissing for the service to come. How he'd endured two years of catechism on Saturday mornings until noon. The drudgery of church. Where the services seem interminable and boring. However, it was in a church (a different one) where he heard with his spiritual ears, the gospel. The good news that informed the young man that being an altar boy and memorizing the commandments wasn't going to do him any good unless he knew Jesus personally. Until he discovered Jesus loves him, without conditions, enough to die for Him--to live within him. The pastor, at fourteen, was born again into the kingdom of God...at church. Liturgy finally made sense.

We don't inherit faith in Christ. It's individual. Personal. That our parents took us to church was important to me. That's where I heard the good news of God's grace first. It was Jesus I loved at the age of six. Loved Him more than anything. In fact, so much so that I wanted to get to heaven as soon as possible! Just knew I was going to die on the weekend after I walked down the aisle of an enormous Baptist church, and, with tears filling my eyes and overflowing onto my pretty Sunday dress, asked Jesus sincerely and happily into my little heart. This Jesus Who loved children. I'd seen the pictures of kids sitting on His lap while His dark blond hair flowed onto His shoulders and His robe fell in light blue folds onto the ground beside Him. Who wouldn't want to see Jesus for real? It worried my parents, though, the declaration on Monday that this was indeed going to be my last week on Earth. Heaven bound and no need for a suitcase. I didn't understand the ramifications of death's finality then, but I did understand that heaven is where I really belong. There were, in fact, reams of information I didn't have. I just loved Jesus. That's all.

Through the week, I spoke to my parents of my homegoing. Convinced with every fiber of my being that I'd be with Jesus before church the next Sunday. On Monday it was amusing to them. On Tuesday, not quite so funny. By Wednesday, Mother was simply annoyed. But on Friday, when I still talked on and on about seeing Jesus, my parents were worried enough to invite the youth pastor over for a conference. "Do you think this could be true?" Mother asked the bespectacled theologian. "Should we take this seriously?" She was worried. The three adults murmured seriously over my situation at the vinyl dinette table as they sipped coffee and Daddy smoked a cigarette while I went outside to play. Not much sleep for my parents Saturday night. I'm sure they came in to check on my living-dying situation several times in the night. Sunday morning I was awakened by the smell of pancakes and bacon, thrilled that heaven had the same food Earth does. Stretching out of my dreamy sleep to covers that looked remarkably like my earthly ones. Then there was Daddy, standing in the doorway. "Get up! It's time to go to church!" I was surprisingly unscathed by the rather disappointing turn of events. I was glad when Daddy said, "Let's get ready for church!" 

It's where I learned about my God. As the catechism of the preacher yesterday made sense to him once he'd asked Christ into His heart, so church informed me, sometimes imperfectly, but always faithfully, of God's ways. There is so much to know about God. He is, after all, God! I've had so many questions over so many years. So many joys; so many struggles. And through it all, Jesus has pursued my six-year-old heart as ruthlessly as He did on that morning when I walked down a carpeted, earthly aisle and discovered I'd actually entered into the gates of heaven. There is no other Jesus in all the other religions of the world. Only One God gives salvation as a free gift, bought and paid for. Only One God died once for all time for every person willing to reach out a life to His proffered hand. I will walk with my hand in His forever more.

PSALM 121 - And The Angel Said, "See, I Told You So!"

The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.
(Verse 8)

 It was the Sunday morning after the crucifixion of Jesus. The sky turned black in the middle of the afternoon on the Friday before. The planet quaked, taken in the Father's hands and shaken with outrage. The earth Jesus spoke into being nearly imploded at His death. Rocks split as the earth opened up, releasing the bodies of dead saints who walked the darkened streets, appearing to many in Jerusalem. The centurion at the foot of the cross got it. "This must be the Son of God!" He'd crucified many criminals. The deaths of none of them caused the globe to heave and the sun to eclipse. The coming to Earth of God Himself was marked by a quiet birth in a manger with other lambs. His physical death, His going out, rocked our world forever. These events were not accomplished in a vacuum. All of Jerusalem saw it. Probably still horrified by the aftermath. Wondering what happened--really happened when Jesus died. In her grief, Mary Magdalene came in the dark of that Sunday morning to try and convince the Roman guards to allow her in to see Jesus's body, to anoint it properly. It was a courageous move. Those who killed Jesus were afraid someone would come and steal the body. Not likely they'd let her get near Him. It was pitch black as she approached. Mary's grief mingling with her fear wasn't enough to keep her away from her Lord. Suddenly the earth became unsteady under her feet as it rumbled the way it had on Friday. A loud, cracking sound came from the direction of the tomb. Then there was a fiery light that guided Mary to the place where Jesus was.

The light was emanating from an angel who sat atop the giant stone that had guarded the entrance into the cave where Jesus was. It seemed the angel was made of light he was so bright. His white clothing was iridescent as it sparkled in the pre-dawn darkness. Beside the angel on the ground were the two Roman soldiers. Out cold. Maybe overtaken by fear. Perhaps overcome by the powerful presence of one who'd come straight from the throne of God. Mary, too, was trembling. Going to the grave had been a risky decision all along. Now she stood in resplendence, riveted to holy ground, trying to make her mind catch up with her experience. "Don't be afraid," says the angel, but it sounded like thunder or rushing water cascading over a cliff. "I know you came here looking for Jesus. But He isn't here any more. He came back to life, just like He said He would."

For these few days Mary's heart was ripped and perplexed. She loved Jesus. Now He was gone. No one understood how Messiah could die. It wasn't what they thought it would be--His coming to Earth. Now the angel proclaims Jesus is alive again. And she doesn't know how that could be. "Come in," invited the angelic being. "Come see where He was. Then go quickly into Galilee. That's where Jesus is going now. Tell His disciples He's risen from the dead."

At the invitation of the angel, Mary walked, stunned and shaken, into the tomb. "See," said the angel. "I told you." The resin cast that had been formed around the body of Jesus was in tact. As if He'd slid whole from it. The cloth that was over His face lay folded in a corner. And Mary believed.

It wasn't like anyone thought, the coming and going of God to Earth. Born in ignominy, crucified as a criminal, risen of His own accord. Salvation was accomplished without an army. No politics involved except as the weapon of His perceived destruction. Jesus was a Lamb, slaughtered. Not a king crowned. Not on earth, anyway. He ascended physically into heaven many days later. Departed in a confusing splendor. The Lamb now the Lion of Judah. In charge of everything that happens next. We, and the disciples, were left with these words: "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Wherever we are. Going out or coming in. And it might not always look like we think, but it will be miraculous and purposeful and powerful. For we are called to be light and salt. To break down barriers and to build up love. To the end of the age. And forever more.