DEVOTIONAL:
Throughout our Lenten devotionals we have been considering what it means to “become human.” As Philip Newell suggests in his book, Christ of the Celts, in Christ, we have a witness to the truth of who God created us to be. Christ shows us not only the face of God but also “the true face of the human soul.”

On Easter morning, we arise to find that the tomb is empty and our Lord walks amongst us once more. Christ has been raised and we have been liberated from the power of death. Even so, as we seek to be authentically human, we must experience death – the death of our false selves. But we know that when we face death (whether metaphorical or physical), God invites us beyond to live freely as the beloved persons God has created us to be.

This freedom, this liberation, that comes to us on Easter is not simplistic or well-ordered. The story of Christ’s resurrection already points to this. In the midst of miracle and wonder, there is also fear, fainting and chaos. Yet the women were able to see the truth, they could see their risen Lord.

“To be free is to see new truths emerging in the chaos, to see the Spirit of God hovering over the chaos.” (Vanier in Becoming Human)

As we continue together on this messy journey of becoming human, I pray that we will continually look to Christ as our guide and sense the Spirit hovering close at hand.

NOTE FROM THE EDITORS:
Thank you for joining the students, faculty and staff of Goshen College during Lent for these devotions. We pray they have met a spiritual need for you each day as you have walked through the wilderness and to the cross with Jesus as we have all reflected together on becoming human. We have been blessed to be part of your journey. Join us again when the season of Advent begins (unless you unsubscribe, they will automatically come to you when they start again in late November).

The post April 24: Hovering over the chaos appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
I’ve often wondered what that first Holy Saturday was like for the followers of Jesus in Jerusalem. The Gospels are mostly silent when it comes to this final day in our Lenten journey; the detailed narratives skip from the anguish and despair of Good Friday to the hopeful wonder of the Easter morning discovery. And perhaps this is an understandable omission. Would we not also, in our remembrance of this Holy Week, and in our own personal journeys of suffering and loss, prefer to move directly from despair and death into hope and rebirth?

We don’t really know what the followers of Jesus did on this day all those centuries ago. Bound by the Sabbath guidelines to refrain from the busywork that might have numbed the pain of Calvary’s horrors, I imagine the disciples were burdened with the dead weight of raw grief, images of death’s cruel reality still seared in their minds. The Scriptures tell us that darkness fell over the whole land on the afternoon of Good Friday, as Jesus hung dying on the cross. I think that for the first disciples, that next day must have felt like a time of great darkness, as well – the darkness of fear, of crushed hopes, of broken dreams.

In the late 1980s, the poet Brian Wren wrote the hymn text “Joyful is the Dark” in an attempt to celebrate the usually neglected positive implications of darkness in the biblical tradition. The poem’s fourth verse describes the great darkness at the end of Passion Week, but it ends with a striking phrase: “Never was that midnight touched by dread and gloom; darkness was the cradle of the dawning.” I love the idea that the darkness we so often associate with our pain, our fear, our own metaphorical deaths – this “hopeless” darkness cradles in its pitch-black arms the new life that is about to be born in us. The sorrow and anguish of that first Holy Saturday were not some cruel interlude between death and rebirth; God was preparing in this darkness the miracle of the morning.

In today’s Scripture passage, the Apostle Peter testifies to this miraculous resurrection as he speaks to a crowd at Caesarea. We hear again in his words the promise of a new life that is for all people – even those previously thought to be lost in darkness. This Holy Saturday, may we hold onto the confident hope of Peter’s words, trusting, as we await the dawn of Christ’s resurrection, that the darkness cradles our new life, as well.

The post April 23: Awaiting dawn in the darkness appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
“April is the cruelest month,” T. S. Eliot wrote. This is certainly true in Northern Indiana where the promise of spring is often packed in freezing rain and blasts of cold wind. A few weeks ago a serendipitously warm day coaxed tulip leaves from the ground. I itched to work in the garden. But when I finally found an hour to spare, wintry temperatures had returned. I put my Crocs back in the closet and stepped back into boots. If I hadn’t already lived through many a Northern Indiana spring, I would have given up hope by now of ever seeing new leaves and flowers. Yet even in this chill, daffodils have emerged. They trust the nourishing soil, sense the changing temperatures and increased sunlight enough to put out their early blooms. It is time.

Psalm 118 reminds us that we are planted and rooted in the soil of God’s nourishing love. When life’s difficulties surround us, when the day is dark with rain, when unexpected storms lash with fury, it may feel like God has abandoned us. This is the difficult part of a spiritual spring that tries our patience, our faith. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus called out from the cross. By taking on a human body, experiencing the worst kind of betrayal and misunderstanding, Jesus shows us that no form of human suffering is beyond God’s knowledge. Thus even as we remember on Good Friday the astonishing compassion of Christ – to suffer with us – we have also been rehearsing the songs for Easter Sunday, gathering treats for the children’s Easter baskets, living our lives in the light of the Resurrection and sharing that light with others.

As I write this, cold rain is pelting the windows on a gloomy morning. A few weeks from now, perhaps even when you are reading this, the blooms of spring will be opening in warmer air. Perhaps we will have forgotten, temporarily, that cold and wet are also a vital part of spring. Yet how else would the hard husks of the perennial seeds buried deep in the sustaining soil crack open – like our hearts – without a season of alternating bouts of chill and thawing? The reservoir of God’s love, the compassion of Christ’s suffering, are always present when we remember God is with us. “Into your hands I commend my spirit,” Jesus said in his final moments, taking refuge in the Lord. As he embodied God’s love, Jesus became the “cornerstone” that persists beneath the rain and winds, sun and heat, outlasting our hopes and fears. Let us give thanks to the Lord whose love endures forever.

The post April 22: The cruelty of the spiritual spring appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
Being tired makes me grumpy; not seeing the sun for several weeks only makes my mood worse. I didn’t realize how lucky I had it, coming from a place with 300 days of sunshine a year. A hectic schedule and bleak sunless days have been my “wilderness” as of late. When the sun shone and the temperature rose just recently, I suddenly realized that I had been irritable for weeks.

One dark winter night I went to a friend’s room to borrow something. We got to talking about how the winter seemed endless and we felt terrible. Soon after the mention of brownies and moms, we were all three on the floor crying and laughing in an inexplicable moment of pain, joy and togetherness.

There was no precise reason for the emotion; it was just everything. But in that moment I felt God’s unfailing kindness. I felt solidarity and that I was not alone. I am amazed by how incredibly compassionate is our God to bring us together for that moment.

God has said in the past, “I will build you up again,” and remains faithful. Despite our tribulations and disobedience, just like Israel, God loves us with an everlasting love.

I have continued to feel like I am being rebuilt. Recently I have felt the urge to “go out to dance with the joyful,” and I believe I am not alone in that joyful, silly feeling. God is showing us kindness in the sunshine, tulips and a friend’s warm greeting. So let’s get our tambourines out!

The post April 21: Get the tambourines out appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
After reading this passage I decided to take a few days to reflect on this question in my own life. “Whom is it that I persecute?” Persecution in our lives may not seem as obvious or as harsh as it did in the Bible. I’ve found that as humans, we tend to get an idea about someone, and immediately draw conclusions about who they are. It frightens me to think about how quick we are to judge.

In this passage, a crowd of people sentenced Jesus to death. When I close my eyes I can picture this scene. Jesus and Barabbas are standing on a stage and a crowd of people is packed below them. They yell insults at Jesus, creating a huge uproar. The hot sun bakes the crowd, and dust lingers above their heads from disturbance of the dry ground. I wonder about the people in this crowd. I can imagine that many folks in the crowd didn’t actually know Jesus before they decided to mock him. Maybe they heard others’ negative comments about Jesus and decided to join the uproar. “If everyone else hates Jesus, he must be bad, right?” … Wrong.

There is a crowd today, and we’re all standing in it. I encourage us all to look for Jesus. Who is the person being persecuted? Maybe it’s your professor, your boss, your dad or your sister. Is it the non-stop “talker,” the annoying person or the insecure person? What about the person who “parties hard” or is it the “goody-goody”? Whoever that person is, keep an eye out for them, recognize them and remember the crowd that sentenced Jesus to death. Jesus is in each of us, and our job is not to judge, but to love.

The post April 20: Whom is it that we persecute today? appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
When I was a child growing up at Mt. Zion Baptist Church, music was a key component of the worship experience. On any given Sunday at Mt. Zion, you could hear the following lyrics of this traditional spiritual being supported by drums and an organ with a gospel flair: “I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus. I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus. Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah.” With much clapping, swaying and dancing, the congregation excitedly engaged in worship and praise.

Now that I am older, I am able to critically assign meaning to the lyrics of the song. As I examine Philippians 2:5, “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.” I am reminded of the song and I have a new appreciation for the words of the song. During the civil rights movement, the lyrics were designated as a civil rights song and the lyrics were changed to, “I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom.”

In the 1970s, the United Negro College Fund coined the catch phrase, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste,” which promotes higher education in the Black community. This is true; but also true is the importance of keeping one’s mind on Christ. I don’t want to waste my mind – instead, I want it to be transformed and renewed to reflect the mind of Christ.

The post April 19: I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:

Mary Magdalene, previously shocked and grieved by Jesus’ death, suddenly appears to the disciples and declares, “I have seen the Lord” (John 20:18). She had seen Jesus – alive, standing outside of his tomb, talking to her.

What? How could that have been real? Recently, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to actually see Jesus in the flesh. No doubt I would be terrified. Maybe I wouldn’t even recognize him, like Mary, who “turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus” (John 20:14). Maybe I would doubt, like Thomas.

And yet Jesus says: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

I have not seen Jesus in person, but I have come to believe by recognizing God in the small, normal things of life, like waking or eating or talking with people. I have also experienced God in isolated and profound moments.

A few years ago, I was at a convent for a retreat. The convent was a holy place full of ritual and prayer. I was drawn to its stillness. During the first night of the retreat, a friend and I decided to explore. We planned to go to the chapel first. Upon opening the door to the chapel, however, we knew we would not leave for awhile. We entered the beautiful, shadowed room and became part of that sacred space.

My friend and I sat in the chapel for a long time – separate, but together. At one point, she spoke up, saying, “Grace, it’s like Jesus is…here.” I could only nod as I felt the truth of her words.

That night, I felt the Lord personally and believed. Other times, I feel like Thomas and cannot find the evidence of God’s existence. Still, I hold onto moments like I had in the convent and continue to seek the Lord in the life around me.

The post April 18: I have seen the Lord appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
As they near Jerusalem, Jesus gives his disciples clear instructions: Go, find, untie, bring to me…

All this so the last part of the journey to Jerusalem can begin to come to its tragic and triumphant end.

In our own Lenten journey, perhaps we are starting to get the sense that we are near our destination.

But do we really know what lies ahead? Generally, we’d say “no”; the future is a mystery yet to unfold. In this case we do know. We know the end of this story. We know that this victory is already won in Jesus’ salvific act of dying and rising. Jesus has triumphed over death.

Each Holy Week, as I hear the stories of the obedient confusion from the disciples (why do you need an ass and a colt?!), the inevitable betrayal by a friend and the horrific death of “Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.” I am consoled because I know that victory is the “end” of our human story. Resurrection will come on the third day.

Yet we live each day in the reality that this victory has not yet been fully realized. We live with agony, disappointment, despair and even death. We are called to not only believe in this victory with our mind, but to live and act out of our belief.

PRAYER:
God, who exceeds all expectations, be our hope as we enter more deeply into the Easter mysteries. Sustain our resolve, and grow our desire to live life in expectation of your victory that continues to come.

The post April 15: What lies ahead appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
The theme for this year’s Lenten Devotions asks the question, what does it mean for us to be the created and recreated images of God? How may we become authentically human?

In Genesis 1:26, 27, God said, “Let us make humankind in our image…” One of the main aspects of being created in God’s image was to be in a righteous and holy relationship with God. When sin came into the world through humans, that right relationship was broken. However, God created a provision for us through his son Jesus to be in a restored relationship with him, which recreated our broken and marred images.

Sin is the element that keeps us in bondage and in an oppressed state. In today’s Scripture (Ps. 31:9-16), David expresses to God his oppressed state, “my eyes, body and soul grow weak … I am the utter contempt … there is terror on every side.” These feelings described by David are still shared by those today, whether its those oppressed by tyrannical governments, those weakened in their impoverished state or those filled with anxiety of the unknowns that the future holds.

This week’s theme is Hosanna. In similar regards, David confidently exclaims, “But I trust in you, O God; I say, “You are my God . . . Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love.” Hosanna means “save us.” But to take it a step further, it means, “God restore our broken relationship with you and recreate us in your image, make us authentically human.”

The post April 14: Recreated and restored appeared first on Devotions.

DEVOTIONAL:
For the past three summers I have worked as a camp counselor. This was simultaneously the most flattering experience and the most humbling experience I’ve ever had.

Counseling is flattering because the kids that you’re with admire you (whether or not they should), and they imitate you all the time. Counseling is humbling for that exact same reason – kids imitate you all the time – and the fact that hundreds of children and teenagers watch and analyze everything you do makes you evaluate yourself a lot more closely. You catch yourself right before you say something negative about another person, right before you complain, right before you choose the easy way out. You make sure that you’re living up to the standard that is expected of you.

At camp and in life as a Christian, my purpose is to be an imitator of the character of Christ. Lent is a time for Christians to repent, to be mindful of our sin – a time for me to remember the situations when I failed to imitate Christ. Lent is also a time to set goals and refocus our relationship with God.

I love the beginning verses of today’s passage because they remind me that God is a Teacher, committed to challenging me and making me Christ-like; God “wakens my ear to listen like one being instructed.” Especially during Lent, I am reminded of the times I was resistant to God’s leading. I am reminded that God is working in me to do away with the old, redirect my path, and turn my whole being into an imitator of Christ. As verse 5 says, “The Sovereign LORD has opened my ears; I have not been rebellious, I have not turned away.”

God equips us with the Holy Spirit to be more like Christ. And, when we walk in the way of the Lord, we are not ashamed. We have confidence that the way of God is good. During this time of Lent, may you be made aware of the moments when you failed to imitate Christ, but be reassured that God is refining you to bring about Christ’s love. Praise to the God who walks with us as we grow more like Christ.

The post April 13: Simultaneous flattery and humility appeared first on Devotions.