In any occupation, when you have a project to complete by a certain date, the enjoyment of the process can get lost very quickly. The completing becomes more important than the experiencing.
Sometimes when writing a sermon, it is no different. You can get lost in "just getting it done." As I endeavored to complete my task of writing a sermon for this weekend, oddly enough, it was the doing that get lost in the details. I was captured by the Passion Week. Jesus' last week on earth. As I read the words again, I found myself entering in. Smelling, feeling, seeing, hearing what was going on. Maybe you can too.
Jesus with his friends telling stories of tenants, sons, and hired hands. He spoke of wedding receptions, talents, wise and foolish young girls.
Telling his friends of his upcoming death.
Dealing with a mom who said "Jesus my boys need to be beside - they need to be elite!"
Giving blind men sight.
Walking from Jericho and entering Jerusalem to the accolades of a King.
Clearing his true home, the temple, of all that had gone wrong.
He spoke of how to pay your taxes and how to live love out:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and with all your mind. Love your neighbour as yourself.”
Warned those in leadership, those who know better, not to lead others away from the truth.
Warned those who follow him to be careful not to be led away. He expressed to hiw followers not to spend time on predicting dates or times but to follow his lead.
He told a story of people who claim to know him but really don’t
He was blessed with an expensive gift of perfume by a woman
He was traded for 30 silver coins
He shared a special dinner with his friends. At that dinner Jesus told one of his closest friends, Peter, that although he has walked the last 3 years with Jesus, he would turn his back on him when it would hurt the most.
He prayed. He prayed hard enough to sweat blood while his friends slept.
He was handed over in a Garden
He healed a soldier
He watched his friends run away
He endured a fake trial
He spoke little
Peter disowned him.
He was mocked and tortured.
He was spit upon and hit
He walked a long road carrying his own means of death
His death a cross.
His clothes were stolen.
His hand nailed
His thirst unquenched
His side pierced with a sword
His mother was watching
A criminal dying beside him asked for life another mocked his death
He exclaimed it is finished.
The temple veil turn in two
He was buried
An angel appeared. An earthquake shock. A tomb empty. An Emmaus road walked. An upper room visited. Wounds touched, A doubter loved. His disciples commissioned. His victory over death secured. His return promised.
Hope for you and me given and guaranteed.
What a week.
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