Reaching Toward Easter. Derek Maul

the really cool part. Even though the wooden match produced “artificial” light, it turns out that the phosphorescent energy that illuminated our cavern was still a conduit for the power of the sun’s energy, which is absorbed, stored, recalibrated, reconstituted, unearthed, transformed, packaged, repackaged, and ultimately released via a thousand different pathways.

      We are all called to play the part of the match in the dark cave that is this world. In the beginning of John’s Gospel there’s a telling passage about our critical role as conduits for the light. “There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light” (John 1:6-7, NIV).

      If there’s an ounce of hope in this world, if there’s any impulse to growth, if we understand any sense of urgency beyond merely existing—then that’s the quality of light John was talking about in his testimony. Life and light testify to the truth about creation.

      LENT CALLS TO THE PROMISE OF RESURRECTION

      The promise inherent in springtime runs deep. During my childhood in England, February was the time that the green tips of crocus leaves pushed their way through the slush of freezing rain or the residue of melting snow, insistent on a cold, wet, uninviting morning. I’d be outside, under protest, with our enthusiastic golden retriever and there the flowers would be, little heads poking up with extravagant hope. “We can do it!” they seemed to taunt. “What’s your excuse!”

      Today, living in Florida, I find that springtime is already in full bloom in February. Everywhere the garden pushes ahead in response to the imperative of life—the dynamic life force resident in the cell structure of even the simplest plant; the impulse not just to live but also to grow; unrelenting life.

      The power that created—and still creates—is best described as the author and the sustainer of life. Separation from the Creator is best described as death—life set aside in favor of darkness. But my journey as a follower of Jesus has given me this new disposition, and that is the disposition of life.

      A surge of vitality comes through cold soil and dead wood every spring. Such animation just hints at the brilliant life offered through the process of birth and resurrection. Jesus put it this way, when he was talking with a man named Nicodemus: “Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above’” (John 3:7).

      “See, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5).

      Newness; springtime; hope beyond winter; resurrection; all of nature shouting instruction to each one of us in terms of our journey. Time to ask myself some questions:

      In what ways am I allowing the Spirit to work newness in me?

      How is my faith able to comprehend—in a fresh way—the promise of renewal?

      In what ways do I present the kind of evidence that the crocus demonstrates every year?

      How does the way that I live communicate the reality of God’s amazing love to the world around me?

      “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor. 5:17).

      Lazarus, who enjoyed dinner with Jesus in Bethany, was a new creation in Christ. And the story told every spring via re-creation points to the truth about the character of the Author of Creation. This journey together through Lent serves as an invitation to align the heart of our spiritual nature with the regenerative heart of God, the Sustainer and Deliverer, to set our intention toward life and to align ourselves with the light.

      Examine your own life in light of the questions listed above.

      Prayer: Accompany us on this journey to the Cross, Creator God. Sustain us by your Spirit; walk by our side; re-create us in the context of your awesome love. Amen.

      Day Three: Thursday

      AN ELEGANT, UNCOMPROMISING INVITATION TO LIVE

      Read John 12:20-50.

      “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again” (vv. 27-28).

      Jesus was troubled. Not regarding the big picture. I imagine that he was crystal clear regarding the part he was destined to play in the unfolding story of redemption. But he was uneasy breathing this divine clarity yet living in and through the very mortal body of a human being, 100 percent God, 100 percent human. Jesus knew what was coming and the knowledge had to have introduced a level of dissonance that was, in a way, excruciating.

      TROUBLED ON PURPOSE

      One of the most remarkable truths about Jesus’ journey to the Cross is the understanding that this was a deliberate, volitional act. Jesus made a purposeful, informed choice with his eyes wide open. Jesus knowingly stepped out, away from the table of admiring friends in Bethany, and turned his face toward Jerusalem. Jesus walked, one step at a time, in the direction of humiliation and the torturous death that he knew was waiting for him.

      But why? Why close down the “founder as teacher” genius of the operation after only three years of active ministry? Why did Jesus stroll into the maelstrom at that particular time? Were there not still signs and wonders waiting to be performed? Were there not more disciples to make? Didn’t the Lord have more towns to visit, new people to tend to, and additional wisdom to speak?

      Well, the answer to all these questions is yes. And the solution stares right back at us every time we look in the mirror. We have been commissioned to do these things as faithful Jesus followers in this twenty-first century. There’s much more to do in our world today than there ever was at the time of Jesus. We are the hands and the feet and the compassion of Christ; we are the presence; we are the body. We are the proof—or otherwise—of the power that this message holds.

      But Jesus had a particular and specific mission, clearly defined within the parameters of time and space. He laid out the essential message and left nothing to add in terms of the spoken word. Because, at the heart of it all, the point Jesus made is simple and pure; it is uncomplicated and direct. The gospel message is an elegant, uncompromising invitation to live.

      After three years Jesus had communicated the essence of his vision clearly. But from the moment he died and for two thousand years since, his followers—that would include you and me—have been complicating every word and confusing every nuance until the heart of the gospel has far too often become almost unrecognizable! So I don’t believe there was any more essential truth for Jesus to reveal, any more explanation for him to voice. Our opportunity is to go out there and get busy. And Jesus demonstrated the doing part with unequaled eloquence and profundity.

      How did Jesus achieve this? “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1). The NIV puts the verse this way: “He now showed them the full extent of his love” by traveling to Jerusalem to face certain execution and ultimately to demonstrate the victory of light and life over darkness and death.

      But Jesus had to turn his face; he had to set his will; and he had to take the first in a series of very deliberate steps.

      Our first step is to examine our intention. Approximately forty days from now we’re going to gather in some church building with believers and those on the periphery of faith and the curious to celebrate Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, the event that kicks off Holy Week.

      But the question that’s facing each one of us today is this: “Will I be ready?” What happens during the next six and a half weeks will determine how well prepared we are to take any kind of a journey with Jesus.

      We