Freedom - Part II

Sunday night a group of people parted ways whose lives will never be the same - ever!

A bunch of people from "the outside" left the Fort Dodge Correctional Facility to head back to their families, to their friends, to their jobs as people whose hearts were changed and lives will never be the same.

They got to go home to their wives and children waiting up for them. They got to go back to work on Monday morning, to their golf leagues and vacations and all the other stuff that "free" people get to do - but I contend that none of those things will ever look the same, that they will never be enjoyed the same as they were last Wednesday prior to entering the prison.

On the contrary, the inmates at FDCF said goodbye to their brothers on the outside and returned to the prison population, full of the Holy Spirit with hearts changed and burning for Jesus Christ. At least many of them were.

They were thrust back into their cells, their units and the yard - where the reality of their environment is anything but freedom - at least the way the world would define freedom - to live the life that Christ is calling them to live. They were hurtled back into prison life, many of them free from the chains that have bound them for years, but also free from the love of the guys on the outside who were there for three-and-a-half days to share Jesus Christ with them.

Well, maybe.

If the other guys that left those prison walls on Sunday night are at all like me (and I know that they all are), they haven't been able to get these guys out of the minds or off their hearts. The move of the Holy Spirit inside those walls this weekend was an amazing thing to see.

The power struggle, signs of infallibility and toughness that Thursday afternoon showed were replaced on Saturday night by 40 inmates, 15 volunteers from the inside and the 15-20 guys from the outside - arms around each others shoulders swaying t0 the music and praising God.

FREEDOM!

It's an image that will never be replaced. So is the healing service for Rob. So is the testimony of the 33 year inmate who has done time for 15 years who stood before his brothers in blue and told them that their story doesn't have to be his - that Jesus Christ is the way to freedom, to staying out of prison once they get out of prison. Baring his soul, this inmate was a sign of hope, of freedom for us all.

Simply stated, I am blown away at how amazing our God is.

On Thursday afternoon, God put two inmates in particular in my sight. Two guys that he wanted me to keep my eye on, I guess. The first left Thursday night and didn't return, but the other inmate (who had just spent three weeks in the hole) stuck it out.

We only have one chance to make a first impression - and his was not a particularly strong one. But he remained, and was in my line of sight all weekend long. I confess that I steered clear of him when I probably should have approached him, but I managed to pray for him on a couple of occasions, and watched as the walls continued come tumbling down from around him.

From a stone cold, mischievous appearance to one of softening in just four days.

On Sunday, during the final talk of the weekend, my friend Joel had everyone's attention - including mine. He was preaching perseverance, telling his own story and his own struggles and what it looks like to live for Christ.

I was a bawling mess (surprise, surprise for those who know me). Ten minutes after he was done and the guys were discussing the talk, I was still a basket case. Rob comforted me with a pat on the back and I tried to pull myself together, but was going back over the piece Joel read at the end of his talk when I got a slap on the knee.

"You all right?" I was asked.

"Yeah, I'm OK."

"Life's hard sometimes, isn't?" I was asked.

"Yeah, it can be, I guess."

- pause -

"My daughter was born since I've been in here and my mom was killed in a motorcycle accident since I've been in here. I didn't get to go to her funeral."

It's him, the guy God placed in my way the first minutes I stepped foot into the prison.

HE is comforting and ministering to ME!

Huh?

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I am so sorry."

"But wait," I said. "What are you doing? God put you in front of me at the very beginning of this weekend and now YOU are ministering to ME? That isn't how this is supposed to work."

I actually said that.

But that is how cool God is.

It's the moving of the Spirit blessing people. Those from the outside blessing those from the inside and vice-versa.

It is so awesome that the God of the universe, the maker of heaven and earth, gives us a glimpse into his power and might by blessing us in while in willing service in His name.

I can't get those guys out of my mind or off my heart, and so while we will likely never see one another again this side of heaven and we have been thrust back into our individual environments, we have not parted ways.

Ecclesiastes 4:10 tells us "If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!"

Petitioning Christ Jesus on the behalf of those on the inside is something that will continue for a long, long time. God has joined us together - offering all of us FREEDOM!

Freedom

Today was an incredible day inside the walls of the Fort Dodge Correctional Facility.

I haven't blogged in recent weeks, and it is not because I was incarcerated since May 5, it just hasn't happened.

Tonight, however, I write to share with you a message of freedom.

Thursday afternoon, roughly 20 clergy and volunteers from the "outside" ventured into the medium security prison to conduct a lay-led short course in Christian living weekend known as Brothers in Blue.  This is a ministry that follows the Cursillo method, for those of you familiar with Cursillo.  It is also known as Via De Christo in the Lutheran world.

Some 40 men have stuck through the first day and a half of the Brothers In Blue (BIB) weekend, and I praise God as I share this evening about the movement of the spirit inside those walls today.

A fairly structured event that is full of worship, talks by both lay people and pastors, the BIB weekend is one that follows a pretty tight schedule most of the time.  Unlike Cursillo weekends, BIB weekends are even more schedule-driven to coordinate with prison requirements for the inmates - thus schedules matter.

At about 1 p.m. today, the BIB team lost control of the schedule and God took over.  Now, he is always in control of the schedule - working and flowing right along with the movement - but today he grabbed ahold and no one will be the same.

Last Wednesday, our brother Rob learned he has retinitis pigmentosa (unsure of the spelling and I am too fried to look it up right now).  As I received his email last Wednesday morning, I didn't really know what it all meant - but another friend explained that he is losing his sight.  It might be a year, it might be 10 years.

It was quite a blow to Rob, his family and those who love him and call him brother.  This afternoon, Rob wove this story into the end of his talk and proclaimed that he will boldly praise God, tell his story and give God all the glory, honor and praise.  He also said he will be back in December, whether he can see or not, to testify to God's blessing in his life.

As the talk ended, a time of prayer for healing was called for by our spiritual director.  Another brother, Scott, stood their with Rob and two pastors when Rob's brother and brother-in-law made their way to the front.  The team and I made our way their too - and pretty quick the entire room was standing there, prisoners and free people from the outside, laying hands on Rob and praying specifically for healing.

Tears stained the prison gym floor, people were visibly moved and emotionally drained as the Spirit of the Lord filled the room.

Freedom reigned in this place for that hour - freedom from everything but what God wanted to share at that moment.

Another young man, one of the inmates of the prison, asked Jesus Christ into his heart today and went with his table leader to the spiritual directors asking to be baptized into the body of believers.

On the outside - even at Spirit-filled and Spirit-led movements like Cursillo weekends - the church often looks for reasons to send new believers to a series of classes or some such thing so as to get someone mentally prepared for baptism - to somehow see to it new believers are spiritually fit for baptism.

Today, I witnessed II Corinthians 3:17 first hand:  

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.

Our Spiritual Director, one of the founding pastors of Brothers in Blue dating all the way back to 1974, led the proceedings while the pastor of the Church of the Damascus Road (the church inside the prison walls) baptized this inmate into the body of Christ.

As I stood in the back of the room, tears streaming down my face, I was struck by the numbers of grown men - prisoners and "free" people alike - who were visibly moved by what they saw God do today.

Prisoners sharing their lives with people called by God to minister to them - to share the love of Christ - is a beautiful thing.  One of those amazing afternoons of my life.  I have listened to a number of inmates share their struggles, express what finding Christ means to them and how badly they want to get things right.

One inmate I knew from 10 years ago when I lived in another Iowa community.  It was amazing to me that we would meet inside the prison walls, but getting over myself, I finally approached him to ask where I would have known him from.  

I don't know what he is in for, though I know he has been in for a while and is not getting out anytime soon.  But we talked about things we love, like music and Jesus.  While he is behind these bars, he is free.  

"No one can take that away from me," he told me yesterday.

There is a lot of crap in this world.  The people who have been sentenced behind these bars are dealing with it, and so are those of us on the outside, aren't we?

Sin does not discriminate.  It grips felons and "free" people alike.  The Good News, however, is that Jesus Christ has overcome the world.  The chains that so easily bind us - prisoners and civilians alike - are shattered and torn by God's selfless act of sending Jesus to die on that cross for your crap and mine!

Are you free?  Are there chains binding you tonight?  Are there things in your life that have a hold on you - that are keeping you from enjoying the freedom we all have available to us in Christ Jesus?

I would encourage you to get real and vulnerable with someone close to you.  Matthew 18:20 tells us:

"For where two or threecome together in my name, there am I with them."

(No lie - as I finished typing the two sentences above I was approached by one of my closest friends about getting real with one another)

That Matthew scripture is an amazing reality.  So is II Corinthians 3:17.  

If we want freedom - true freedom - we will come together in Jesus' name - cuz the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

Even in a prison.

Hold On Tight

So there I was, in the jungle of Mexico (I have secretly always wanted to say that), a tad beyond apprehensive.

The rest of my travel companions had already taken their turns and there I stood - unsure that I could conquer this fear. Uncertain that I really wanted to do this, but the shame of saying that I was the only one not to, I did as the tour guide said and walked to the edge of the cliff.

My wife and I took a little trip at the end of March with some dear friends to the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico. It was a glorious week respite from all things busy. We made a bunch of memories, enjoyed the balmy weather while it was cold and snowy at home, and also had the excursion of a lifetime.

As I have mentioned to stoppers-by in the past - those who don't know me personally - I am not a small man. I am 6-5 and not the skinny high school kid I was in my senior picture.

Being that big and now slowed from years of athletic wear and tear, there are a number of things that bother me. Mice, bats and pretty much any thing else that darts and bobs and weaves quicker than I can react.

There, I said it. I have some fears; some things that I don't like and am mildly afraid of.

Heights is another fear I have. Perhaps it comes from falling out of a tree and breaking a wrist when I was five or six - I don't know - but it is a real issue. Perhaps the fear comes from the realization that if I get it all moving in one direction, there isn't a whole lot chance in breaking the fall.

Which brings me back to the trip. As we planned what kinds of things we might do on our vacation, this Adventure tour came to the top of everyone's list. It included climbing the Mayan ruins of Coba, zip-lining and repelling down into a cenote, which is basically a pool at the bottom of a bat-infested cave.

"Will you do that?" asked Angie, one of our travelling companions.

"Not without a lot of prayer between now and then," I replied. "I hate heights."

I knew I wasn't alone in my fears, but I was serious about my trepidation in this journey. I did pray a lot between the time of booking the trip and when Alonzo the tour guide showed up the next morning.

And so there I stood, helmet on, harness now strapped to the wire that would hold me as I zip-lined over crocodile-infested waters to the cliff on the other side.

"Take this stick," said Alonzo. "It is your brake. Put it behind your head, behind this piece here, and when you get about halfway across, just turn it."

"This crooked stick is my brake?" I was worried about snapping the stick off as I approached the other side.

"Okay, Chris, walk off the cliff and don't forget to use your brake," Alonzo said.

"What if the brake doesn't work?"

"Crash position (knees to chest) and boom!" said Alonzo.

"Crash position, boom?"

"Crash position, boom!"

One more prayer, and there I went. It really wasn't too bad. It was even kind of fun, until it happened. The brake didn't snap, but it didn't slow me down either.

And then it was gone - out of my hand - just hanging on the wire. I was forced to stick the landing (I got a 10 from the young Italian judges who were along, I believe), and was no worse for the wear. The repelling was a similar experience - a leap of faith, really.

Remembering all of this has me thinking today.

Hold on tight! What do we hold onto?

Psalms 91:14 from the Message reads this way: "If you'll hold on to me for dear life," says God, "I'll get you out of any trouble. I'll give you the best of care if you'll only get to know and trust me. Call me and I'll answer, be at your side in bad times."

Psalms 63:8 reads this way:

"I hold on to you for dear life, and you hold me steady as a post."

John 6:35-38 says: Jesus said "I am the Bread of Life. The person who aligns with me hungers no more and thirsts no more, ever. I have told you this explicitly because even though you have seen me in action, you don't really believe me. Every person the Father gives me eventually comes running to me. And once that person is with me, I hold on and don't let go."

Hold on tight! It is clear to me that scripture tells us it is a good idea to hold on tight - to hold on for dear life to God. Jesus himself tells us that once we run to him, that he will hold on and not let go.

Yesterday was one of those days that I would just as soon forget. It was a brutal Monday in my world and sucked some life out of me. If it were a test, I am afraid I didn't score as well as I would have liked.

That fact alone makes me thankful that Jesus said "I hold on and don't let go."

But what about when life is really hard? What about those times when we get that diagnosis, or lose our job, or have a bad month business-wise? What about those times when we find ourselves in a spiritual desert? What about those times when we give into the temptation to gossip about people around us?

One of my favorite singers is a guy named Bebo Norman. He has a number of popular songs that you have probably heard, but one of his best in my mind is a little more obscure, one called "The Only Hope." He sings about all these things that God wants for us, and yet how we settle for so little most of the time.

The chorus goes like this: "I'm begging you to hold on tight, begging you to hold on tight, begging you to take my life from me. So tell me you won't let go, tell me you won't let go, cuz you are the Only Hope for me."

Bebo's song and my song are much the same most days. I have a tendency when I don't call on God to settle for much less than he wants for me. I am learning, though, that I must hold onto the people God has put in my life, and hold onto his Word. I must hold onto the promises he give us in scripture, like that passage in John 6.

In the end, all God wants from us is a willing heart. A heart willing to call on him, willing to hold onto Jesus. I don't know what your day will bring you - good or ill - but my prayer today is that you believe what Jesus says, that you believe he actually meant everything he said, and that if you hold onto him, that He won't let you go.

Hold on tight...

Drafted

Last weekend one of the things I used to live for took place, with little to no attention being paid to it.

There was a time when the NFL Draft meant just about everything to me. In fact, during my high school days, I happened to be sick the same Tuesday of April all four years of high school in the mid 1980s - the day the NFL held its annual selection of players and aired it on ESPN.

I grew up a sports fanatic. In the fall I played football, in the winter I played basketball, in the spring and summer I played golf and baseball. And I longed for a career in one of those sports.

During those Tuesday's in April in high school, I would dream of what it would be like to be sitting by that phone, waiting for it to ring from one of the NFL's teams. I would dream of what it would be like to here my name called on that day by some announcer on ESPN.

Literally, it was all I thought about. The Major League Baseball draft was a similar dream, though it has never been televised that I am aware of. More fortunate than most, perhaps, I was blessed enough to get to play small college football and baseball and even attended an MLB tryout. I wasn't quite fast enough, didn't quite throw hard enough, was a little too old, and therefore didn't get the chance that day to do what I did best - hit!

The dreams have long since faded of playing in the NFL or in the major leagues, my body couldn't take it and I have found other ways to spend my time - thankfully.

But Saturday, for just a few minutes, I switched the TV onto the draft for about 10 minutes. It hit me as analyst after analyst was poring over each player's statistics, times, body size, character and the like that this has to be an agonizing ordeal for these kids. Many of them have spent their entire life preparing for this one day - the day when they make it or not!

For some, jubilation. For others, heart break. As players plummet down the board and go undrafted, the questions must persist in their mind. Were my numbers not good enough, am I not big enough, strong enough, fast enough, did I make too many bad choices?

It all made me think.

It makes me thankful that I have been drafted, so to speak. But the team I am on isn't concerned with my numbers, with me being smart enough, big enough, strong enough, fast enough. My "General Manager" doesn't even care about the bad choices I have made.

I have made my share of mistakes, but Jesus Christ chose me anyway. He continued to pursue me, and knowing that I have absolutely no qualifications to be on his team other than a heart and desire for Jesus, he made a way.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world!," Jesus said in John 16:33.

I reckon we all have/have had trouble - times when we weren't at the top of the draft board. Times when we weren't strong enough, fast enough. Times when we didn't belong on any team, let alone God's team.

But Jesus Christ calls us anyway. He wants us on His team! And when he gets us on his team and gets us excited about the victory that we find in him - in living this life for him each and every day- he asks us to "Go!" and find other people to join the team.

And as we spend more time on his team, the Spirit continues to build in us a desire to spend more and more time with Christ, allowing him to share the finer points of the game with us. In those times he shares more and more of who he is and what he wants for our life. It is in these moments that the game is the best!

I thank and praise God that I don't have to be big enough or strong enough ("My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" - II Cor. 12:9); that my salvation is not based on me ("it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God" - Eph. 2:8); and that all he really wants from me is my heart - that he really just wants my willingness to walk with him and talk with him every moment.

I don't have this "every moment" bit completely figured out just yet. I am human! But the longer I find myself on his team, and the more victories we enjoy together, the deeper he draws me in and the more I desire to be coached - every moment.

Are you still hoping to be drafted? If so, let's talk. If we're on the same team, let's celebrate victory together!

Grace and Peace!

One at a time

Track meets in Northwest Iowa are really not spectator sports. The wind often howls, the temperatures are ordinarily not too warm, and when you package those two things together, wind chills on an evening when the temperature reads 49 are more like 29. Not very pleasant!

But when you force your kids to be involved, to make themselves better for other things they are involved in - including life - you had better show up to watch.

So there we sat, my wife and I, on Monday evening in the frigid conditions mentioned above. (At least it wasn't raining!) As we sat, we cheered on the kids from our school, noticed how gifted some of the kids from other schools are and, despite our butts being nearly frost-bit on the aluminum bleachers, enjoyed ourselves.

But then came the 100m hurdle race. When the hurdles are coached well, practiced well and run well, it can be a thing of beauty. A girl from a neighboring school ran a flawless heat and was very impressive.

In a following heat, however, one of the competitors clipped the sixth hurdle. Down she went - face into asphalt, sprawled out for the whole crowd to see!

"Ooohhhh" rang through the bleachers.

As is customary, the hurdler got up and tried to finish the race. She hobbled over the seventh and eighth hurdles, and then bit it again over the ninth hurdle as she tried to complete the race.

"Nnnnoooohhh" was then heard as the crowd hurt for the young lady.

She eventually crossed the finish line, but did so a little beat up.

Made me think of life - our lives.

We can be running along, clearing hurdles and looking pretty good, can't we? Our form is spot on, we pick 'em up and set 'em down and reach whatever finish line is in front of us at the moment beautifully.

Once in a while, though, one of the hurdles seems to jump up and tackle us - to send us sprawling to the asphalt. And there we lie, bloodied, dinged, unsure how to proceed and wondering what the heck just happened.

It is there that we have a choice to make, isn't it? When we are sprawled out on the asphalt, bloodied and dinged, unsure of how to proceed.

I am pretty sure we have all faced something in our lives that we can relate to this scenario - perhaps it was something of our own doing that sent us face first into the pavement, perhaps it was something someone did to us that tripped us up and hurt us? Perhaps it was a disease, an accident, pornography, gossiping, alcoholism, (insert your malady here) that took you down and left you with a choice to make.

Sprawled out on the pavement when life strikes, we do have a decision to make. Am I going to stay down? Am I going to continue in this pattern? Am I going to try to get up on my own? Or might I change the pattern and seek guidance?

The world long told me to pick myself up by my own boot straps and to get out of whatever it was that had tripped me up and sent me sprawling, on my own. But one day, when I had fallen and couldn't get up, God made himself known in the way of other people and the Word.

I love this piece of scripture from the book of Hebrews. Read what Hebrews 12:1 has to offer us: Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Hurdlers, in a way, understand this. They know that when they run the race, there isn't just one hurdle to clear but 10. They know that if they go down, they must somehow muster the courage to get up and try to clear the next one.

That's perseverance, isn't it? It's looking fear in the eye and walking (or running) right into the face of it. Perseverance is dealing with whatever it is that had us sprawled out on the asphalt, fully and completely, so that we might be able to continue on running the race marked out for us, isn't it?

We have talked a lot about this topic this week, my wife and I. Jennifer Lee over at Getting down With Jesus blogged of a scenario in her own life - where life has presented a major hurdle - and yet walking straight into that fear is part of the perseverance piece.

Chances are there are going to be more hurdles to clear for each of us. That's the other thing about persevering in this race. As long as God allows us to be here on this earth, there are going to be obstacles and hurdles that will be there - that's a fact. We are told in the Bible that "in this world we will have trouble, but I has overcome the world."

Whatever the stumbling block, I pray we call God into it with us. I pray that we rely on God, that we realize that he has a plan for us and that with Holy Spirit alongside (not out in front or behind, but beside you) that we run with perseverance the race marked out before us.

Grace and Peace!

Broken and beautiful

My prayer, which began in earnest on Palm Sunday, was that I might be led to the cross during Passion Week; that I might see Jesus in a different way this Easter; that I might experience the depth of his suffering; that I might get a glimpse into all that he endured just for me; that I might look anew at the ways in which I live and breathe and follow him.

It was an incredible week, to say the least.

Reading and re-reading the scriptures uncovered some things for me that I had perhaps never really read before, that I must have missed or at least forgotten about Holy Week.

It also drew me in closer to Jesus than I have been in some time. In the midst of personal struggle and a bit of a dry season, I needed to be drawn in.

Thursday evening we went on a journey during our Maundy Thursday service. We journeyed to the table - celebrating in the Lord's supper. We then journeyed to the Garden of Gethsemane and I really heard and understand for the first time that victory was won in Garden, when Jesus decided to take on the cross. And then we journeyed to the cross, where he suffered and died for me and for you.

Thursday night was a meaningful service for me, one in which I could hear Jesus ask from the cross, "What sin?"

Good Friday came and I spent much of the day, for lack of a better word, bothered. Bothered that victory had to come with Jesus hanging there - because of me - for me! I thank God that he did it, but the pain of it all is almost too much. It was my sin that nailed him there, it was me who turned his back on Jesus - who cut and ran. Oh, to not do those things!

But Good Friday also included Bible study. Six broken people who love Jesus, who love each other and are living life together. On this night, we continued to toil through the book of Job (we are officially halfway - yippee!), shared what was going on in our lives and then, dimmed the lights, lit some candles and again ventured to the cross. We took in this Youtube video - I would like to share it with you here...



This Good Friday - the day in which Jesus's body was broken and blood was poured out for the healing of the world, the healing of those who would call on his name - we broke bread together, served each other and enjoyed the feast.

Holy Communion - the Lord's Supper - is a very personal experience. He endured the most excruciating of deaths in which his body was literally broken and his blood poured out. He did it for me and he did it for you, if you believe.

It is the most meaningful of experiences for me to take his body, soak it in the cup and remember what he did for me. It is written: On the night in which he was betrayed, Jesus took the bread, broke it and said 'This is my body which is broken for you. Every time you eat of it, remember me.' And in the same way, Jesus took the cup, and after having blessed it, said 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood which was poured out for many.' Every time you drink of it, remember me.

An amazing thing, isn't it?

Jesus gave us these elements that we might never forget. He also gave us this supper, I believe, with the intent of celebrating it with others. Merriam-Webster defines community as a unified body of individuals. Communion, loosely defined, is the celebration of being in community with one another.

And so, on this night, six broken people whose lives are being put back together through the body and blood of Jesus Christ - and through the love and care of each other - intimately shared the body and body of Jesus Christ. Tears were shed, hearts were opened, and sharing occurred about the very personal meaning of the sacrament. I believe we were all touched by the body and blood, and the sharing, in ways we have not encountered before.

This is a meager attempt at explaining the celebration - but Good Friday will never look the same to me again. I saw him there, broken and beautiful.

Then came Sunday morning - where the church building was bursting at the seams and a cantata called "I've Seen Jesus" was performed. Beautifully sung music and incredible narration took us to what Mary Magdalene, Thomas and Peter all experienced upon coming to the empty grave.

They saw Jesus, ALIVE! He was both broken and beautiful before their eyes.

In this past week, Jesus was both broken and beautiful before my eyes. How about you? My prayer now is that I read and re-read the accounts of his time on earth following the resurrection, that it might become more and more real - that it might lead me ever closer to him - that it might help me better share his love with others - that I might be better prepared for his return!

Grace and Peace!

The burden

We all have them, right?  

Things we wish we hadn't done?  Things we wish we could take back?  You know, the burden!?!

A rude comment or something we said or did that was hurtful, embarrassing, or painful?

I sit this Saturday morning wondering what the disciples of Jesus, who was crucified yesterday, must be thinking today?

When Jesus was betrayed by Judas and arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane, the account of Matthew 26 concludes this way in verse 56:  (from The Message)  The disciples cut and ran.  In the NIV it says that the disciples deserted him and fled.

Here are these 12 guys whom Jesus had singled out, had told to drop everything they were involved with and to follow him.  And they did it.  While they followed him they saw signs and wonders, witnessed miracle upon miracle, and heard teachings that baffled the teachers of the law and the Pharisees.

They lived and breathed with Jesus.  And yet, when one of their own betrayed Jesus and the crowd came for him to arrest him - the other 11 betrayed Jesus, too.

Jesus foretold of Peter's denial, and he knew that the other 10 would cut and run, too.

After he had been handed over, tried, flogged, beaten and crucified - what must they have been dealing with this Saturday morning?  What was running through their minds?

Part of me can identify with them, I think.  Every time I louse things up (which is often, unfortunately) it is as if I have handed him over.  Every time I neglect someone in need, it is another swing of the hammer.  Every time one of those horrible thoughts enters my mind, and I allow it to germinate for just a moment, it is as if I spit in Jesus' face.  Every time I do what I want and know it is against his will, it is as if I cut and run.

Increasingly those feelings bother me.  There was a time when it didn't matter, because Jesus didn't really matter to me.  It was a story from a book written hundreds - no thousands - of years ago.  It had no significance in my life.

Jesus matters to me now.  Jesus is everything to me now.  The fact that it was my sin that nailed him there, that forced him to have to endure all he did on Thursday night and Friday is weighty.  

So are the guilty feelings of Saturday.  It had to be for the disciples, too!  All of the "what ifs" they had to be asking themselves this morning!   Uuuuggghhhh!  

And the sorrow of the death of their dear friend and King - the one they had hoped in - the one they had dropped everything to follow - must have been incredibly painful.

Praise God we know Sunday's coming.  They should have, too, since he told them over and over again that he was going to handed over to sinners, crucified and risen on the third day.  But even as he returned to them following the resurrection, they still doubted.

My prayer today, this Holy Week Saturday morning, is that we are able to take a few minutes between the grief of Friday and jubilation of Sunday and perhaps deal with all of the feelings that come in between - the feelings that accompany Saturday.  

The remorse...the guilt...the sorrow...the grief...the pain.

I pray we address them all so the fact that the stone was rolled away and the tomb was empty - that Jesus is Alive - may be a time of celebration in our lives like none other.  That his sacrifice was not in vain and that it is extremely personal.  That Jesus' sacrifice on that cross gives us hope, life, grace and peace!