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Holy Saturday Hope

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“O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen” (from The Book of Common Prayer).

I don’t think I’ve ever participated in any kind of church service centered around Holy Saturday. Typically, every church I’ve ever attended makes a really big deal about Easter Sunday (and with good reason). More recently, I’ve seen some Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services.

But nothing for Holy Saturday.

Maybe that’s because there really isn’t much to celebrate or commemorate. At this point, Jesus is dead and in the tomb. The disciples are scared to death, grief-stricken, and hiding out. There is nothing in Scripture about anything happening on this day at all.

But we as believers with the gift of history and hindsight know what’s coming. We know that the worst moment in history is about to give way to the greatest. From absolute despair and sadness will come overwhelming amazement and joy.

In the Jewish culture of Jesus’ day, Saturday was a day of rest. So possibly it’s good not to have yet another service in an already packed holy week. Perhaps we need to take time to meditate and reflect on what has happened up to this point and what is yet to come.

On Holy Saturday, we learn once more how to wait well.

It’s Friday But Sunday’s Comin’!

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I can’t remember a lot of what I’ve done in the last week or so, but I can still remember a sermon from Tony Campolo that I heard when I was a student at Union University way back in the early 90s. It was close to Easter that year, and I seem to remember we were getting ready to go on our spring break.

I remember the sermon was based on the text by an old black preacher named S. M. Lockridge with the refrain of “It’s Friday . . . but Sunday’s comin’!”

The gist is that Friday was when everything looked hopeless. Jesus was dead and buried. The Pharisees and other religious leaders were celebrating. The disciples were crushed and defeated. But Sunday and the empty tomb were just ahead, unbeknownst to those who were witnesses to the events on Friday.

Here’s the text from the original sermon that set my world on fire:

“It’s Friday. Jesus is arrested in the garden where He was praying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The disciples are hiding and Peter’s denying that he knows the Lord. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is standing before the high priest of Israel, silent as a lamb before the slaughter. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is beaten, mocked, and spit upon. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Those Roman soldiers are flogging our Lord with a leather scourge that has bits of bones and glass and metal, tearing at his flesh. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The Son of man stands firm as they press the crown of thorns down into his brow. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. See Him walking to Calvary, the blood dripping from His body. See the cross crashing down on His back as He stumbles beneath the load. It’s Friday; but Sunday’s a coming.

It’s Friday. See those Roman soldiers driving the nails into the feet and hands of my Lord. Hear my Jesus cry, “Father, forgive them.” It’s Friday; but Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God, who will not abide with sin, pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. And at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming.

And on that horrible day 2,000 years ago, Jesus the Christ, the Lord of glory, the only begotten Son of God, the only perfect man, died on the cross of Calvary. Satan thought that he had won the victory. Surely he had destroyed the Son of God. Finally he had disproved the prophecy God had uttered in the Garden and the one who was to crush his head had been destroyed. But that was Friday.

Now it’s Sunday. And just about dawn on that first day of the week, there was a great earthquake. But that wasn’t the only thing that was shaking, because now it’s Sunday.

And the angel of the Lord is coming down out of heaven and rolling the stone away from the door of the tomb.

Yes, it’s Sunday, and the angel of the Lord is sitting on that stone. And the guards posted at the tomb to keep the body from disappearing were shaking in their boots, because it’s Sunday. And the lamb that was silent before the slaughter is now the resurrected lion from the tribe of Judah, for He is not here, the angel says. He is risen indeed.

It’s Sunday, and the crucified and resurrected Christ has defeated death, hell, sin, and the grave. It’s Sunday. And now everything has changed. It’s the age of grace, God’s grace poured out on all who would look to that crucified lamb of Calvary. Grace freely given to all who would believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross of Calvary was buried and rose again. All because it’s Sunday.

It’s Friiidaaaay!

But Sunday’s coming!” (S. M. Lockridge, With Thanks to Dr. Michael G. Davis for the text version).

More 90s CCM Goodness

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I’ve been listening to a podcast series by Andy Chrisman lately. Or more accurately, I’ve been watching Youtube videos of a podcast series by Andy Christman. They’re all centered around the Christian music industry and a lot of the stories revolve around 90s CCM.

To me, the 90s were the best decade for Christian music. There was such a diversity of talent and sounds that invaded radio stations all over the country. And that was back when radio stations had actual playlists of more than 15 songs.

For me to hear any Christian song from the 90s will take me back to the moment when I first heard it. Most likely, I can tell you the artist, the song and even the album title. I’d probably be really good at trivia centered around 80s and 90s Christian music.

But hearing the stories behind the songs from artists like 4Him and Russ Taff just makes their message more meaningful. To hear the struggles and hardships that the artists went through makes me appreciate them all the more. It also makes me want to pump up the volume on some 90s CCM at some point in the very near future.

I’m thankful that Christian music still exists. In some ways, it’s bigger than it’s ever been with a wider reach and more people buying albums and going to concerts. But compared to the rich variety of the 90s, there’s a bit of a sameness to a lot of what I hear currently. And I’m sure you could ask any Christian artist around today, and they’d probably say their inspiration came from something out of the 90s. And those from the 90s would probably point to artists in the 70s for inspiration (but that’s a discussion for another day).

I am thankful that I had all that great music to be a part of the formation and shaping of who I am today and what I believe. I’m thankful for the solid lyrics that will still come to mind to this day whenever I think of a particular artist. I’m thankful that so much of 90s CCM is part of the soundtrack to my life.

A Lenten Prayer

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“O Lord, this holy season of Lent is passing quickly,
I entered into it with fear, but also with great expectations.
I hoped for a great breakthrough, a powerful conversion, a real change of heart;
I wanted Easter to be a day so full of light that not even a trace 
of darkness would be left in my soul.
But I know that you do not come to your people with thunder and lightning.
Even St. Paul and St. Francis journeyed through much darkness
before they could see your light.
Let me be thankful for your gentle way.
I know you are at work.
I know you will not leave me alone, 
I know you are quickening me for Easter – 
but in a way fitting to my own history and my own temperament.
I pray that these last three weeks, in which you invite me to enter 
more fully into the mystery of your passion,
will bring me a greater desire to follow you on the way you create for me
and to accept the cross that you give to me.
Let me die to the desire to choose my own way and select my own cross.
You do not want to make me a hero but a servant who loves you.
Be with me tomorrow and in the days to come,
and let me experience your gentle presence.
Amen” (Henri Nouwen).

Lord, may the last three weeks of Lent not be wasted. Help me to use my time away from social media to create margins of unhurried space within my day for me to hear Your voice speaking to me. Give me a quiet heart and a calm mind to receive Your words. Above all, grant me the ability and willingness to obey what I hear. Amen.

Growing Through Obedience

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“‘Aslan” said Lucy “you’re bigger’.
‘That is because you are older, little one’ answered he.
‘Not because you are?’
‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’ (C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian).”

There’s one part in Prince Caspian where Aslan calls out to Lucy to follow him, and to get the others to do the same. The catch is that Lucy is the only one who can see or hear him. The others will have to take her word for it.

That’s the moment where Lucy chooses to trust in Aslan and obey him, even though it might feel like she’s the only one. She has to go even if she goes alone.

That’s what genuine faith looks like. Faithfulness and obedience can be lonely sometimes, especially when so many others are too busy trying to blend in and not make waves to truly follow Jesus. When you are obedient, sometimes your biggest critics will come from inside the Church, not outside.

William Carey, the father of modern missions, faced opposition from other clergymen for wanting to take the gospel to India. Imagine that. Pastors and church leaders not wanting to take the gospel to unreached people. But it happened.

William Carey’s faithfulness made it possible for others to take the gospel around the world, so that heaven could be filled with voices from every tribe and tongue, every skin color and hair color, gathered around the throne as depicted in the book of Revelation.

Obedience might mean standing in the minority for what’s right versus what’s popular. William Penn once said, “Right is right, even if everyone is against it, and wrong is wrong, even if everyone is for it.”

In Prince Caspian, Lucy gets the rest to follow her. Some were more willing than others to go, but they all went. None of them could see Aslan until after they had stepped out in faith, but once they were committed to following, they could see him leading the way.

That’s the way faith is sometimes. You can’t see God until you obey what He’s told you to do. Obedience leads to faith being made sight.

A Symphony of Prayers

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“We are not alone. My prayers are perhaps a single note in a symphony, but a necessary note, for I believe in the communion of saints. We need each other. The prayers of one affect all. The obedience of one matters infinitely and forever” (Elisabeth Elliot, Keep a Quiet Heart, See I Corinthians 12:12).

I love that image. All the prayers of all the saints make a kind of symphony that is pleasing to God. I do think that God hears and answers each individual prayer, but I also believe that collectively they rise to the Lord as an incense and aroma like the animal sacrifices of old.

There is something powerful that happens when two or more are gathered in Jesus’ name. The Church can have a greater Kingdom act when gathered together than all the people working and praying separately. That’s why it’s vital to gather and not neglect the meeting together of the people of God.

Each prayer matters. Each act of obedience matters. Together they make up a symphony and show the hands and feet of Jesus to a world that has a need that it cannot name but will recognize Jesus in us as we preach both in our actions and our words.

Nothing Else Will Do

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I’m excited. My church is weeks away from moving to a permanent campus where everything will be brand new and shiny. I’m reminded of the metaphor Jesus used about believers being a city on a hill, because this new location is literally sitting on a hill over looking the intersection.

I’m super hyped, but I’m also smart enough to know that the honeymoon won’t last. More accurately, I’ve hopefully learned by now through lots of times where I got excited only to see the enthusiasm fade and normalcy fade in.

I can remember all those Christmas gifts that I was thrilled to get. I remember how I felt, but looking back, I can’t remember the specific gifts any more. They lost their luster and faded from my memory. Some of them even ended up in garage sales a few years later.

That’s how it goes with anything I set my heart on this side of eternity. Anything less than God won’t fill that God-shaped yearning in me. Or as C. S. Lewis put it, anything that isn’t eternal is eternally out of date and obsolete.

I look forward to our move-in date in late May. I hope I will always be grateful for this gracious gift on God’s part. But I know that at some point, it will be just a building. More than likely, it will require maintenance and updating and repairs. And at some point, it will be no more.

But what it represents and what our church is all about (and every true Bible-believing church is all about) won’t ever fade or get stolen or moth-eaten or rust. The hope of God-with-us revealed in Jesus will only get better and more wonderful and more glorious over time, past time, and into eternity.

A Prayer for the Church

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I found this prayer for the Church that spoke to the state of the American Church and its great need for renewal and revival. In my opinion, so many of the churches in America have lost their way by either tying the gospel with politics and candidates or by becoming so much like culture that they no longer have a distinct message of hope that actually offers hope.

There’s a warning in the book of Revelation to the church at Ephesus that if they don’t repent, Jesus will come and remove their lampstand. That means that either they will cease to be an actual church or that they will continue with no authority or influence. I think some churches (and some denominations) in this country are already there. Many of them are what Jesus called the church at Laodicea in that they think they are alive but they are actually dead.

What we need isn’t the right candidate to win the election or for our side to be proven right and the other side shown to be wrong. What we need is to get back to the whole gospel that Jesus and the disciples proclaimed.

This is a prayer from the Book of Common Prayer written in 1662 that just as well could have been for 2024 (with little update on the old King James English):

“Most gracious God, we humbly beseech thee for thy holy catholic Church. Fill it with all truth, in all peace. Where it is corrupt, purge it; where it is in error, direct it; where anything is amiss, reform it; where it is right, strengthen and confirm it; where it is in want, furnish it; where it is divided and rent asunder, make up the breaches of it, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Real Church

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“What if we take away the cool music and the cushioned chairs? What if the screens are gone and the stage is no longer decorated? What if the air conditioning is off and the comforts are removed? Would His Word still be enough for his people to come together?” (David Platt)

“Heresy of method may be as deadly as heresy of message” (A.W. Tozer).

I am the first to confess that I love technology. I especially love it when the church is able to incorporate talent and technology to advance the gospel in ways that were unthinkable even a generation ago. I love how we can reach all over the world with literally a tap of the finger and the power of social media and the world wide web.

But I wonder if sometimes we plan for talent and technology but leave no room for God’s Holy Spirit. I wonder that if the Holy Spirit were to depart from a church if it would cause the slightest ripple in the service that is pre-planned down to the second.

Again, I am all for worship not being all hap-hazard but well thought out. I just know that in many places around the world, people are worshipping without the comforts of padded pews or air conditioning or even buildings. Many of them meet in secret for fear of being arrested. Many know that to openly proclaim Jesus as Lord will cost them their lives. Yet they’re the ones worshipping in spirit and in truth while many of us here in America are worshipping in comfort and ease.

I’m afraid it will take the persecution of the Church in America to get us from lukewarm to faithful. I don’t mean the persecution of us getting our feelings hurt because people say things about us that are not nice. I mean persecution in the sense of some of us being dragged off to prison and maybe at some point people losing their lives for not denying the name of Jesus.

Lord, wake us up and make us faithful.

Church Is Hard

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I’d say Church is hard because we’re all broken and flawed people, scarred and marred by the ravages of sin. Church is filled with imperfect people. Yes, Church is filled with hypocrites because as much as we want, our lives never exactly line up with our words.

Let these words sink in and remember that while Church is hard, is where God has never failed to meet us:

“CHURCH IS HARD.

Church is hard for the person walking through the doors, afraid of judgement.

Church is hard for the pastor’s family, under the microscope of an entire body.

Church is hard for the prodigal soul returning home, broken and battered by the world.

Church is hard for the girl who looks like she has it all together, but doesn’t.

Church is hard for the couple who fought the entire ride to service.

Church is hard for the single mom, surrounded by couples holding hands, and seemingly perfect families.

Church is hard for the widow and widower with no invitation to lunch after service.

Church is hard for the deacon with an estranged child.

Church is hard for the person singing worship songs, overwhelmed by the weight of the lyrics.

Church is hard for the man insecure in his role as a leader.

Church is hard for the wife who longs to be led by a righteous man.

Church is hard for the nursery volunteer who desperately longs for a baby to love.

Church is hard for the single woman and single man, praying God brings them a mate.

Church is hard for the teenage girl, wearing a scarlet letter, ashamed of her mistakes.

Church is hard for the sinners.

Church is hard for me.

It’s hard because on the outside it all looks shiny and perfect. Sunday best in behavior and dress.

However, underneath those layers, you find a body of imperfect people, carnal souls, selfish motives.

But, here is the beauty of church—

Church isn’t a building, mentality, or expectation.

Church is a body.

Church is a group of sinners, saved by grace, living in fellowship as saints.

Church is a body of believers bound as brothers and sisters by an eternal love.

Church is a holy ground where sinners stand as equals before the Throne of Grace.

Church is a refuge for broken hearts and a training ground for mighty warriors.

Church is a converging of confrontation and invitation. Where sin is confronted and hearts are invited to seek restoration.

Church is a lesson in faith and trust.

Church is a bearer of burdens and a giver of hope.

Church is a family. A family coming together, setting aside differences, forgetting past mistakes, rejoicing in the smallest of victories.

Church, the body, and the circle of sinners-turned-saints, is where He resides, and if we ask, He is faithful to come.

So even on the hard days at church—

The days when I am at odds with a friend, when I’ve fought with my husband because we’re late once again. When I’ve walked in bearing burdens heavier than my heart can handle, yet masking the pain with a smile on my face. When I’ve worn a scarlet letter, under the microscope. When I’ve longed for a baby to hold, or fought tears as the lyrics were sung. When I’ve walked back in, afraid and broken, after walking away.

I’ll remember, He has never failed to meet me there” (Pat Smith).