easter

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

Easter morning is not just a celebration—it’s a declaration. After the sorrow of Good Friday and the silence of the tomb, resurrection bursts onto the scene with unstoppable hope.

In Matthew 28:1–10, we find two faithful women—Mary Magdalene and the other Mary—returning to the tomb. They came expecting death. Instead, they encountered life.

An angel greets them with words that still echo today:

“He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.”

What follows is both an invitation and a commission:

– Come and see

– Go and tell

And before they even leave, Jesus Himself meets them. He comforts them, receives their worship, and sends them forward with purpose.

It’s easy to treat Easter like the grand finale—celebrate, enjoy a meal, and move on.

But the resurrection of Jesus is not the end of the story. It’s the beginning of yours.

In Acts 10:39–43, Peter shares the good news not just as hearsay, but as a witness. He had seen the risen Christ. And now, he was sent to proclaim:

39“We are witnesses of everything he did in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They killed him by hanging him on a cross, 40but God raised him from the dead on the third day and caused him to be seen. 41He was not seen by all the people, but by witnesses whom God had already chosen—by us who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. 42He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. 43All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”

Colossians 3:1–4 takes the resurrection from a historical event to a personal reality:

1” Since then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. 2Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. 3For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. 4When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”

Here we see keys to the resurrection that have changed us: 

– You died with Christ

– You were hidden in Him

– You were raised with Him

– You will appear with Him in glory

Resurrection isn’t just something Jesus experienced—it’s something you now live in. You are not waiting for a new life someday. You are living it now.

What does that look like for us?

“Set your hearts on things above… Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” (Colossians 3:1–2)

When your heart is set on heaven, you begin to see people and situations the way God does.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” (Ezekiel 36:26)

Through the cross:

– Your debt was canceled

– Your sin was nailed down

– Your heart was redeemed

And because of this, we see the outcome: 

“We have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16)

Which means, You Have the Mind of Christ, now. Not in the future, someday. 

Every choice you make is shaping who you are becoming—and influencing those around you.

“God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7)

We have a New Heart AND a New Mind! Because Jesus gave us a NEW LIFE!

Because of Easter:

– You have a new life

– You have a new heart

– You have a new mind

– You have a new perspective

You are NOW living a resurrection life.

Who are you going to share it with?

And for those who haven’t experienced that New Resurrection Life yet, His Invitation Still Stands:

“If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” (Romans 10:9)

He is risen. And because He lives, you will too.

Zoe Hatcher

By Angel Atkinson, Open Arms Care Coordinator

Have you ever found yourself in complete darkness?

Not the kind when you close your eyes or turn off the lights… but real darkness. The kind that feels like utter despair. A solid black hole where you don’t know how you’re going to climb out—or if you even can. A weight so heavy it paralyzes you… something so overwhelming you feel like you can’t even breathe.

This, my church family, is grief.

When Grief Takes Over

When I lost my father, I felt this.

God had restored our relationship, and over the last few years, we had become extremely close. Then he was diagnosed with large cell lymphoma. His fight became my fight.

I quit my job so I could be with him. Day in and day out, for months, we went to the hospital for chemotherapy—three days a week. We spent hours together while he was hooked up to an IV, lying in that hospital bed. I was there to keep him company.

We ate lunch together. We watched episode after episode of Law & Order. We read the Bible. We talked.

And if I’m being honest… we avoided the reality. We were both terrified.

Then came five weeks of daily radiation. More long hours in Olean while he went through treatment. I wasn’t allowed in the room with him, but I did what I could. I pulled a chair up right outside the door so I would be the last thing he saw before they closed it—and the first thing he saw when it opened.

For five hours at a time, I sat there.

No bathroom breaks. No getting food. No distractions.

I did what he had to do… I stayed.

When Everything Changes in an Instant

A few years later, everything changed.

He was at home, changing a light bulb. He didn’t want to bother me while I was at work. The chair slipped out from under him, and he fell—headfirst onto the concrete floor.

He waited a few days, but the headache only got worse. Eventually, I took him to the ER. They admitted him with a concussion.

I knew something wasn’t right.

Three days later, he was unresponsive—like he was in a coma. Four days later, he was gone.

A hematoma on his brain had caused a stroke.

They had graciously placed us in a hospice room… but he never recovered.

He held me when I took my first breath.

And I held him as he took his last.

The Sound of Grief

I couldn’t think.

All I could do was scream.

I thought it was silent… but later I found out it wasn’t. My cries echoed through the hospital floor. No one tried to quiet me. Some of the nurses just stood there and cried with me. It was all they could do.

It felt like my life had been ripped out of me.

I fell into that black hole.

Life as I knew it would never be the same… and neither would I.

The Darkness of Holy Saturday

Holy Saturday feels like that.

It’s the quietest day of Holy Week.

Jesus is in the tomb. The disciples are scattered. Hope feels buried. Heaven seems silent.

“As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph…
Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb.”
— Matthew 27:57-60

Everything feels final.

Everything feels lost.

And yet… this is not the end.

God in the Middle of the Darkness

This kind of grief gives us a glimpse—just a glimpse—of what it feels like to be separated from God. When shame, guilt, and pain pull us away from Him, we can feel like we’re trapped in that same darkness.

We let our emotions lead us into a place so deep and so dark that we start to believe we can’t come back. That we’ve gone too far. That maybe even God can’t love us anymore.

But that is not true.

When we reach that place of despair—and we all do—we have to reach out and take hold of His hand.

He is faithful.

He will pull us out of that pit. He will clean us up. He never left us—not for a second. He is right there in the middle of it, feeling what we feel, holding us as we cry.

“For no one is cast off by the Lord forever.
Though He brings grief, He will show compassion,
so great is His unfailing love.”
— Lamentations 3:31–32

Even in the silence… God is still working.

“Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”
— Psalm 30:5

Come Home

So my friends… this Lenten season is about our living God.

A God so loving and so forgiving that even in what feels like your darkest sin, He is still reaching for you. He is still calling you. He is still ready to wrap His arms around you and say, “Come on in.”

Are you broken?

Are you overwhelmed with grief?

Are you facing something that makes you feel like you can’t go on?

Come.

Come to the Father.

He is waiting for you.

The God who died, was buried, and rose again… did that for you.

He loves you.

And He is calling you home—today, right now.

If you need prayer, don’t carry it alone. Reach out. We are here for you, and we love you.

Good Friday invites us to stand at the foot of the cross—not as distant observers, but as participants in the weight of what happened there.

It is a day of deep sorrow and holy tension. A day where love and suffering meet.

From the cross, Jesus does something remarkable: He cares. He shakes. He suffers. And in all of it—He speaks.

In one of His final moments, Jesus looks down from the cross and sees His mother. Surrounded by agony, suffocating under the weight of crucifixion, bearing the sin of the world, His attention turns to her:

John 19:26-27 “26When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” 27and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.”

At first glance, it seems simple: a son making sure His mother is cared for. A final act of responsibility. But it’s much more than that.

Earlier in His ministry, Jesus redefined family—not as those bound by blood, but as those who do the will of God. His family had expanded to include all who follow Him. Now, at the cross, we see both truths collide.

Jesus doesn’t abandon His earthly family. He fulfills it—while also expanding it. At the cross, a new kind of family is formed.

A family not built on proximity, but on sacrifice. A family not held together by obligation, but by grace. A family born in suffering—and sustained by love. Even in His dying breath, Jesus is drawing people together.

And perhaps there is even more in His words to Mary: “Here is your son.”

Was he only pointing to John? Or was He also inviting her to see Him—truly see Him?

To see that this moment, as horrific as it was, was not the end, but the fulfillment of everything God had promised.

The child she once held was now the Savior being lifted up.

The cross was not a disruption of God’s plan-it was the plan.

When Jesus breathed His last, the earth responded: The ground shook. Rocks split. Tombs broke open. Creation itself trembled.

Moments like that shake you to your core—the kind of moments where everything feels unstable, uncertain, and undone.

But here’s the question Good Friday asks: What is the purpose of the shaking?

Scripture tells us something profound—God sometimes uses shaking not to destroy us, but to remove what cannot last.

Hebrews 12:26-29 “26At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, ‘Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.’ 27The words ‘once more’ indicate the removing of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what cannot be shaken may remain. 28Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, 29for our “God is a consuming fire.” 

God uses the shaking—but His voice comes after. Not in the noise. But in a whisper:

John 19: 28 After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, “I thirst!”

Two simple words. And yet they carry the full weight of human suffering. Jesus, the Son of God, is not distant from pain—He is immersed in it.

He knows physical agony. He knows emotional grief. He knows spiritual distress.

Through His suffering, we are made clean. Through His pain, we are healed. Through His death, we are given life.

Good Friday confronts us with a hard truth: Following Jesus does not mean avoiding suffering.

John 16:33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

“You will have trouble.”But that’s not the end of the promise. “Take heart. I have overcome the world.”

Jesus doesn’t remove us from suffering—He redeems it.

Romans 5:3-5 “We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Good Friday is not just something we remember; it is something we respond to.

Will we see the family Jesus is forming—and step into it?
Will we allow the shaking in our lives to refine us rather than define us?
Will we trust that our suffering, like His, is not without purpose?

At the cross, everything seems lost. And yet, everything is being accomplished.

The world shakes. The Savior suffers.
And in the silence that follows…God is still at work.

Sotoday, we pause. We reflect. We grieve. We worship.

Because by His cross, the world is redeemed.

And even now—He is speaking. Are we listening?

Zoe Hatcher

There’s a moment in emergency services that most people never see.

It’s not the lights. It’s not the sirens. It’s not even the big calls that make headlines.

It’s the quiet decision, over and over again, to show up for someone else on what might be the worst day of their life.

As an EMT and firefighter, there have been moments standing in living rooms where everything changed in an instant. Walking into chaos, fear, grief, and uncertainty—there isn’t time to think about yourself. You step in, you kneel down, and you serve.

Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s convenient. But because someone needs you.

Maundy Thursday: A Different Kind of Strength

Maundy Thursday is a lot like that.

It’s not loud or public. It’s not a moment most people would point to as the highlight of Holy Week. But it may be one of the most powerful pictures of who Jesus really is.

Because on this night, Jesus kneels.

Knowing the cross is coming. Knowing betrayal is already in motion. Knowing that the very people around Him will soon run, deny, and abandon Him… He still chooses to serve.

He takes a towel. He takes a basin. And He washes their feet.

Even Judas.

Serving When It Hurts

That part always stops me.

Because in emergency response, you don’t always know who you’re helping. You don’t always know their story, their choices, or how they got to that moment. But it doesn’t change the response.

You still serve. You still give what you can. You still show up.

Jesus takes that kind of service even further. He doesn’t just serve strangers—He serves those who will hurt Him.

And then He says something that should settle heavily on all of us:

“Love one another as I have loved you.”

Not when it’s easy. Not when it’s deserved. Not when it fits into our schedule.

As I have loved you. That’s the standard.

When Love Requires Surrender

If we’re honest, that kind of love is harder than any call we’ve ever been on.

Because it requires more than action. It requires surrender. It requires humility. It requires us to lay down our pride, our comfort, and sometimes even our right to be justified.

And it also requires something we don’t always like to talk about:

Being served.

Learning to Receive

In emergency services, we’re trained to be the ones who help. The ones who fix. The ones who carry the weight.

But there are moments—real moments—where you realize you can’t do it alone. Where you need your crew. Where you need someone else to step in, to support you, to carry part of the burden.

Peter struggled with that too.

When Jesus came to wash his feet, Peter resisted. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel comfortable.

But Jesus made it clear: if you won’t let Me serve you, you’re missing the point.

That hits home.

Because following Jesus isn’t just about serving others—it’s about allowing Him, and sometimes others, to serve us too.

It’s about humility on both sides of the equation.

The Call of Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday is a call.

A call to step into the mess of other people’s lives with compassion.

A call to serve even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable.

A call to love people who may never return it.

But it’s also a call to let down our guard. To admit when we need help. To allow ourselves to be cared for, prayed for, and supported.

Because that’s how a community is built.

Not through strength alone, but through shared service, shared burdens, and shared grace.

A Question to Carry With You

As we remember Jesus kneeling with a towel in His hands, we have to ask ourselves:

Where am I being called to serve?
Who around me needs me to show up?
And where do I need to humble myself enough to let someone serve me?

Because the kingdom of God doesn’t move forward through power or position.

It moves forward when people are willing to kneel.

Dan Robinson

The Heart Behind the Betrayal

On Holy Wednesday, we usually reflect on Judas’s betrayal of Jesus. But we often don’t think about how Jesus responded to that betrayal—or what sparked it.

There’s a lot we don’t know about Judas’s reasoning, but John’s Gospel gives us a little insight into Judas’s heart, as well as the heart of our Savior.

The story begins when Mary of Bethany, moved by devotion and gratitude to Jesus for raising her brother Lazarus, anoints Jesus’s feet. She sacrifices something of great worth—the expensive perfume, along with her reputation—to honor her Lord.

What Judas Saw… and Missed

But when Judas sees this, he doesn’t see devotion. He doesn’t see a servant honoring her King—he sees a woman wasting her dowry.

He focuses only on the monetary value and the temporary needs it could have met, without understanding the heart behind what Mary is doing.

Others may have thought Judas had honorable intentions. He even says:

“Why wasn’t this perfume sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?”
— John 12:5

But John reveals Judas’s true heart in the very next verse:

“He didn’t say this because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief. He was in charge of the money bag and would steal part of what was put in it.”
— John 12:6

When Hurt Turns Into Betrayal

Judas, in his greed, likely felt betrayed by Jesus and wanted vengeance. Because of this, he makes up his mind to profit for himself—selling out his Rabbi for thirty pieces of silver.

He becomes so blinded by his hurt and his greed that he forsakes the One who has loved him and taught him for three years.

And Yet… Jesus Still Served Him

And yet, when the disciples gather the next day for Passover, Jesus still washes Judas’s feet.

He still shares the cup and the bread—His body and His blood—with Judas.

Jesus knows Judas will betray Him. He even hints at it to the other disciples, which leads to them arguing about who is the greatest and who might betray Him.

But Jesus still chose Judas.

He still called him. He still walked with him for three years. He still shared life with him. He treated him no differently than the others—even knowing what Judas would do.

And He died for Judas too.

What This Means for Us

Jesus does the same for us today.

He knows every choice we are going to make. He knows we will fall back into old sin patterns. He knows the ways we will fail and even betray others.

And yet… He still calls us.

He still says:

“I forgive you, my child, and I love you. Now go and sin no more.”

The only difference between us and Judas is what we do with that forgiveness.

Judas let the guilt consume him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

But what about us?

Will we let shame keep us stuck… or will we walk forward into the grace God is offering?

Michaelah Colon

Holy Tuesday

We are in the midst of Holy Week, and we are finding that it moves quickly, but not quietly. By Tuesday, the tone has shifted. The cheers of Palm Sunday have faded, and the tension is rising. Jesus is no longer simply teaching—He is confronting. The religious leaders are no longer curious—they are threatened. 

What unfolds in Matthew 21 is a clash over authority, obedience, and ultimately, our hearts. 

Matthew 21: 23 “Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?”

That question from the chief priests and elders isn’t just political—it’s personal. They aren’t seeking truth; they are protecting control. 

Jesus, in His wisdom, responds with a question of His own, exposing their unwillingness to recognize what is clearly from God:

Matthew 21: 24-27 “24Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. 25 John’s baptism—where did it come from? Was it from heaven, or of human origin?” They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ 26But if we say, ‘Of human origin’—we are afraid of the people, for they all hold that John was a prophet.” 27So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.” Then he said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

That’s where the issue begins: not lack of evidence, but resistance to surrender.

Jesus follows with a parable that cuts straight to the heart: 

Matthew 21:28-32 28 “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ 29 “ ‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. 30 “Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go. 31 “Which of the two did what his father wanted?” “The first,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32 For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.”

One son says “no” but later obeys. The other says “yes” but never follows through. The religious leaders give the right answer—but miss the point. Obedience is not about what we say; it’s about what we do.

This is the uncomfortable truth of Holy Tuesday: God is not impressed by appearances of righteousness. He is looking for surrendered hearts.

The shock comes when Jesus declares that tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom ahead of them—not because of their past, but because of their repentance. They responded. They changed. They obeyed.

Jesus doesn’t stop there. In the Parable of the Tenants, He reveals a deeper rebellion—a pattern of rejecting God’s messengers, culminating in the rejection of His Son:

Matthew 21:33-41 33 “Listen to another parable: There was a landowner who planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a winepress in it, and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and moved to another place.34When the harvest time approached, he sent his servants to the tenants to collect his fruit. 35 “The tenants seized his servants; they beat one, killed another, and stoned a third. 36 Then he sent other servants to them, more than the first time, and the tenants treated them the same way. 37 Last of all, he sent his son to them. ‘They will respect my son,’ he said. 38 “But when the tenants saw the son, they said to each other, ‘This is the heir. Come, let’s kill him and take his inheritance.’39So they took him and threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. 40 “Therefore, when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” 41“He will bring those wretches to a wretched end,” they replied, “and he will rent the vineyard to other tenants, who will give him his share of the crop at harvest time.”

It’s a sobering picture: people entrusted with something sacred, yet unwilling to yield it back to its rightful owner. And then comes the warning:

Matthew 21: 42 Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the Scriptures:  ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes’ ?”

Jesus is making it clear—He is the cornerstone. Accept Him, and everything aligns. Reject Him, and everything falls apart.

The thread running through it all is choice. From the garden in Genesis to the temple courts in Jerusalem, one truth remains: We are given a choice. God does not force obedience. He invites it.

But our choices are never isolated. They carry consequences—not just for us, but for others. Choosing obedience leads to life and fruitfulness. Choosing self leads to distance, disorder, and ultimately, destruction.

Holy Tuesday reminds us: Delayed obedience is still disobedience. Empty words cannot replace faithful action.

Through Christ, we are free—truly free. But freedom is not permission to live however we want. It is the power to live as we were created to. We can use our freedom to serve, love, and build others up, or we can misuse it in ways that harm ourselves and those around us.

Real freedom always comes with responsibility.

Scripture does not soften the reality of unrepentant sin. It speaks clearly about its consequences—judgment, separation, and loss. Not because God is harsh, but because He is loving.

He is merciful. He is patient. But He is also holy and just.

So what does obedience actually look like? Not a checklist. Not legalism. 

It looks like walking with the Spirit. When we are led by the Spirit, our lives begin to produce something different: Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23)

The real question of Holy Tuesday is: Who is on the throne? Self—or is it God?

Because choosing God means something has to die: Our pride. Our sin. Our control.

Where am I saying “yes” but living “no”? Where is God calling me to follow through?

Because in the end, it’s not what we claim—It’s what we choose.

And our choices matter.

Zoe Hatcher

Palm Sunday Blog Post-2026

Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week—the final week of Jesus’ earthly ministry before the cross. It’s a day filled with celebration, expectation, and deep spiritual significance. As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowds are filled with praise, shouting words that still echo through churches today:

“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Matthew 21:9)

But what did these words truly mean? And what do they mean for us today?

Matthew records that as Jesus approached Jerusalem, He instructed two disciples to bring Him a donkey and its colt. This wasn’t random—it was the fulfillment of a prophecy written more than 500 years earlier:

“See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9)

Kings in the ancient world often arrived in chariots drawn by powerful horses to display their strength. Jesus chose something different. He entered the city on a humble colt.

This moment revealed something profound about the kind of King Jesus is. He is not a king of domination but a king of peace. His authority is real, but His posture is humble.

Even in the details, we see God’s care and intention. Scripture reminds us again and again that God works through even the smallest details to accomplish His purposes.

When the crowd cried out “Hosanna,” they weren’t simply offering a casual word of praise. The word literally means “Save now!” It was both a cry for help and an expression of worship. The people recognized Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah and called on Him to rescue them.

Their song of praise came from Psalm 118: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

This psalm was traditionally sung during festival processions, but on this day it carried even deeper meaning. The people believed the Messiah had finally arrived.

Psalm 118 also contains another powerful image: “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”

In ancient construction, the cornerstone was the most important stone in a building’s foundation. It held the structure together and determined the alignment of everything built upon it. Without the cornerstone, the building would collapse.

The crowd celebrating Jesus likely didn’t realize the full weight of the words they were singing. Yet Jesus knew exactly what they meant. He knew He was the cornerstone.

He also knew that many of the same people praising Him would soon reject Him.

Not long after His triumphant entry, Jesus cleansed the temple, driving out those who were exploiting worshipers. This angered the religious leaders, who began challenging His authority.

In response, Jesus quoted Psalm 118 again and this time applied it directly to Himself:

“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” (Matthew 21:42)

The very leaders responsible for guiding God’s people were rejecting the One sent to save them. 

Jesus warned that how people respond to Him determines everything. Some will build their lives on Him, while others will stumble over Him.

Jesus described two possible responses to the cornerstone:

1. Those who fall on the stone—humbling themselves in repentance—will be broken in a way that leads to healing and restoration.

Or:

2. Those who are crushed by the stone are those who reject Jesus.

This is a sobering truth: Jesus offers mercy and forgiveness now, but rejecting Him carries eternal consequences.

Many people struggle with the exclusivity of the Christian claim that salvation comes through Jesus alone. Yet this was not an idea invented by the church—it was the teaching of Jesus Himself:

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

Jesus alone is the cornerstone of salvation.

Palm Sunday invites us to ask an important question: How will we respond to Jesus?

Will we cry out with the crowd, “Hosanna—save now!” acknowledging our need for a Savior?

Or will we stumble over His words and resist His authority?

Jesus invites us to come to Him today—to kneel, to surrender, and to build our lives on the cornerstone.

Zoe Hatcher

Tension Builds in Jerusalem

Jesus had been in Jerusalem since Sunday, riding in to cheers from the crowds. By the time Thursday rolled around that week, things were very tense in Jerusalem.

Only days before, Jesus had been in the temple, angrily driving out all of the “snakes” and clearing out what he called a “den of thieves.” He had been openly antagonizing the religious leaders, calling out their hypocrisy and angering them further day by day. The fervor in the city must have been palpable.

Amid the turmoil, he sits down Thursday evening to eat one more time before he is betrayed and led away to his death.

What Would You Say If You Knew?

What would you say to your best friends if you knew by that time tomorrow you would be dead, and that one of them would be the cause?

What if all the things you wanted to say, the tears you wanted to cry, the memories you wanted to call up with them, had to be set aside so that you could give them the last pieces of wisdom they would need to go forward without you—because there was nothing you could do to stop what was coming?

Jesus knew that in their hearts they were still not ready, and he was trying his best to prepare them.

Luke tells us that the disciples squabbled over who among them would be the greatest that night, but Jesus was washing their feet, trying to give them an example of humility and service to others that might get their attention.

As if that wasn’t making things awkward enough, he then comes out with the revelation that one of them will betray him.

This was not a peaceful evening of lighthearted comradery; certainly not how you’d want to spend your last moments with loved ones before you die. Our most trying holiday dinners with family don’t hold a candle to the dramatic events unfolding at this table.

A Sacred Supper with Heavy Words

Luke 22:
(19) And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”
(20) In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.
(21) But the hand of him who is going to betray me is with mine on the table.
(22) The Son of Man will go as it has been decreed. But woe to that man who betrays him!”

Simon prompted John to ask Jesus who would betray him, and Jesus responded to him in a way that made clear it was Judas.

Before John (or Simon, if he overheard) could react, Jesus immediately sends Judas away to carry out his task:

John 13:
(26) Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.”
Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot.
(27) As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.
So Jesus told him, “What you are about to do, do quickly.”
… (30) As soon as Judas had taken the bread, he went out.
And it was night.

Free Will at the Table

Indeed, darkness had fallen. So much just happened in that fraction of a conversation.

I would imagine that John, and also Simon, would have wanted to immediately try to stop Judas, but Jesus made it clear that Judas should be allowed to leave… that he be allowed to choose.

Jesus, having described what the bread and wine were—symbols of his broken body, of his very own blood given for the sake of a new covenant, and forgiveness of sin—HANDED it to Judas!

It was a gesture of immense magnitude, demonstrating divine forgiveness, even for the man who was headed away to betray him to his suffering. Judas still had free will, and a choice to make in the same way that we ourselves still have a choice.

We Still Have a Choice to Make

• Believe that Jesus is the Son of God, or not.
  
• Share the news to others so they can know the same freedom we know, or not.
  
• Obey his commands and strive to live without sin, or not.
  
• Love one another and forgive our enemies, or not.
  
• Seek first the Kingdom of Heaven… or not.
  

The breaking of bread and sharing of wine at The Last Supper symbolized the ultimate act of selfless love.

We, too, can give of ourselves—whether it’s time, resources, or empathy—to make a positive impact on the lives of others.

Or not.

A Prayer of Surrender and Love

Lord, I pray you will give me a heart like yours.

I ask you to let me see all your children the way you see them.

I want walk on my journey with you, leaving the baggage of past grudges and hurts behind. I want to let go so I can live wholly in step with your purpose for my life.

I know that hurt, and fear, and anger are not of you Lord, but are afflictions set upon us in this world through our struggles with sin.

You are the only path to redemption… the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Please Lord, let the lessons you gave your disciples reach our hearts today, so we can live in earnest and pure alignment with your greatest command – to love one another.

By this Lord, let them know me as your disciple.

In Jesus’ Holy and Precious name I pray. Amen.

Misty Surine is a Local Ministerial Candidate (LMC), a worship leader, and a member of the Least of These Riders Microchurch.