I saw this posted elsewhere, so I decided to “borrow” it. I think it will speak to many of you like it did to me:

“Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart–he finds it full–he begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this–then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: when the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But once take our gourds away, and we want our God; once cleanse the idols out of the house, then we are compelled to honour Jehovah. ‘Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.’ There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies” (C H Spurgeon).

“For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ” (2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:5,‬ ‭NASB).‬‬

The first thing I do when I get to work is to drink the coffee. Actually, the first thing I normally do is make the coffee — although I prefer it if someone else has already done the work, so I can enjoy the fruits of their labor (and not have my coffee tasting a bit like turpentine).

Some of you purists might banish me if you found out how much creamer I put in my coffee. Basically, when I’m done, the result is more of a latte than actual coffee. But it has caffeine, and that’s all that really matters. It’s all about doing whatever it takes to keep my eyes open and do all the adulty stuff that I do at work.

And what my coffee lacks in quality, I make up for in quantity. As in I drink a lot of that water filtered through coffee beans. Lots and lots of it.

I apparently have no sense of time anymore. Since 2020, I have to look at a calendar to determine what day of the week it is and I have no concept of whether something happened a week or a month or a year ago. So imagine my surprise when this picture popped up in my memories from 8 years ago.

Back then, the Church at Avenue South had just agreed to lease our current property and held our first ever service — fittingly enough an Easter service — in what would later become the children’s ministry area called The Grove. At this point, we hadn’t even begun to build out. The church wouldn’t officially launch until that September. But we had made a start.

And now 8 years later we close on a new property, one that will be our own with no more lease payments. We will continue to be a Gospel presence in the Berry Hill neighborhood at less than a mile from where we started.

The street we’re on doesn’t look the same as it did almost a decade ago. So much has been torn down and built up that hardly anything remains the same. But the God we serve and worship hasn’t changed. His message of hope that we preach and teach and share hasn’t changed.

That’s the testimony we carry with us into a new chapter of existence. That’s the hope that can save and transform anyone anywhere at anytime. It’s the hope for the world.

Tonight at Kairos, Mike spoke about the disciple Thomas, better known as Doubting Thomas for his famous (or infamous) statement that he would not believe that Jesus had risen from the dead until he could put his hands into the scars on Jesus’ hands and side. Yeah, that Thomas.

He gets a lot of grief for his doubt. Yet doubts can be a good thing. When you work through doubt, you end up with a faith that’s all your own. When you wrestle with questions, you grow up from believing in someone else’s faith to owning your own beliefs.

I think it’s good to question. It’s good to not believe everything at face value but know what you believe and why you believe it. It’s healthy to test what you hear from the pulpit against what the Bible says. In the book of Acts, the Bereans even checked what the Apostle Paul taught against Scripture — and he wrote a good deal of Scripture himself.

Timothy Keller, famous author and pastor, came up with a phrase I like. He calls it “doubting your doubt.” Basically, your doubt creates a narrative that you are inclined to choose over a Biblical truth or doctrine that seems hard at the time. To doubt your doubt is to question that narrative just as you questioned the original belief.

The Psalms are full of wrestling through doubt and questions. David and the other psalmists aren’t afraid to ask God the hard questions and to process the complex emotions that come from unmet expectations. Usually, they come to a point where they restate their trust in God based on a history of faithfulness and stedfast love.

Doubting can be a good thing if it drives you to God with the questions and compels you to remain at His feet until He gives answers — or more likely He gives more revelation of Himself, which is infinitely better.

There’s an old song that goes something like “I May Be Just an Old Chunk of Coal (But I’m Gonna Be a Diamond Some Day).” That’s the story for all who follow Jesus. We may not look like much or amount to much in the world’s standards, but God thinks we are priceless and He’s making us into precious gems fit for a King.

“Dear Lord, risen Lord, light of the world, to you be all praise and glory! This day, so full of your presence, your joy, your peace, is indeed your day.

I just returned from a walk through the dark woods. It was cool and windy, but everything spoke of you. Everything: the clouds, the trees, the wet grass, the valley with its distant lights, the sound of the wind. They all spoke of your resurrection; they all made me aware that everything is indeed good. In you all is created good, and by you all creation is renewed and brought to an even greater glory than it possessed at its beginning.

As I walked through the dark woods at the end of this day, full of intimate joy, I heard you call Mary Magdalene by her name and heard how you called from the shore of the lake to your friends to throw out their nets. I also saw you entering the closed room where your disciples were gathered in fear. I saw you appearing on the mountain and at the outskirts of the village. How intimate these events really are. They are like special favors to dear friends. They were not done to impress or overwhelm anyone, but simply to show that your love is stronger than death.

O Lord, I know now that it is in silence, in a quiet moment, in a forgotten corner that you will meet me, call me by name and speak to me a word of peace. It is in my stillest hour that you become the risen Lord to me.

Dear Lord, I am so grateful for all you have given me this past week. Stay with me in the days to come. Bless all who suffer in this world and bring peace to your people, whom you loved so much that you gave your life for them. Amen” (Henri Nouwen, A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee).

I’ve always wondered if there was a kind of observance for the Saturday that falls between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Is there some kind of liturgical tradition in the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox or Episcopalian churches? I’m asking not to make a point but because I really do not know.

I think it might be a good idea to have something like a Silent Saturday to reflect on what the disciples must have been going through after witnessing the events of Friday’s crucifixion, remembering Jesus’ words about all He would go through, and trying to process it all.

I imagine that even after all they had been through and all they had seen Jesus say and do, they were still at a loss. I would almost be willing to bet that they were in shock and numb, unable yet to grieve the incredible loss.

What kind of a service would even be appropriate for such a day? I realize that we have nothing in Scripture to indicate what happened between Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus taking Jesus body to be buried in an unused tomb and those events on early Sunday morning. Perhaps a day of introspection, prayer and silence would fit this day.

Again, any of you who are from different denominational backgrounds and know something can always chime in with their own experiences. I really would like to know. Maybe it’s too much to have Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Silent Saturday, and Easter Sunday.

It’s comforting to be able to be on this side of history and to anticipate the coming joy that Sunday will bring. Even on Saturday, we can still celebrate the inevitable victory of the cross and the resurrection, knowing that nothing from then on would ever be the same again.

I still think it seems ironic to call it Good Friday, considering what happened on this day. This was the day of ultimate suffering for Jesus. This was the day that seemed like anything but good when the disciples hid away in a locked room while Jesus’ body was taken down from the cross and buried in a tomb.

I remember when I was young reading about the arrest and trial of Jesus, and thinking how unfair it was that an innocent man went to His execution based on lies and greed. Part of me wanted Jesus to come off that cross and show them what’s what and to tell them all off for their hypocrisy and dishonesty.

But older me knows that if Jesus had indeed saved Himself, then the rest of us would still be lost. We’d still have no hope in this world and no hope of the next. We’d be just as dead in our sins as Jesus was at the end of Friday.

But Jesus suffered for our sakes. He stayed on that cross and finished His Father’s business that He had spoken of as a 12-year old. The words “It is finished” mean that we can look back and call it Good Friday — not because of what happened on that day but because of what came of it. Namely, an empty tomb and a risen Savior. But that came two days later. Stay tuned.

“What can we learn from Peter’s turning around? First, it was not Peter who turned. It was the Lord who turned and looked at Peter. When the cock crew, that might have kept Peter from falling further. But he was just in the very act of sin. And when a person is in the thick of his sin his last thought is to throw down his arms and repent. So Peter never thought of turning, but the Lord turned. And when Peter would rather have looked anywhere else than at the Lord, the Lord looked at Peter. This scarce-noticed fact is the only sermon needed to anyone who sins – that the Lord turns first” (Henry Drummond, The Ideal Life).

I don’t know about you, but I’m so thankful that God didn’t wait for us to get our collective act together before He sent Jesus. He didn’t wait for me to get my mess straightened out and my life in order before He set His affections on me. While we were sinners — not after — Christ died for us. As I’ve heard it before, God didn’t wait for us to figure out how to get to Him, but He found a way to come to us.

Easter is all about God so loving the world that He gave His one and only Son so that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have full and abundant eternal life. I love Dallas Willard’s take on John 3:16:

“God’s care for humanity was so great that he sent his unique Son among us, so that those who count on him might not lead a futile and failing existence, but have the undying life of God Himself.” 

And that, folks, is what Easter is all about.

In case you needed a joke to brighten up your day, here’s one. Especially on a day like today with all the rain.