Uncategorized – Hope Walking

Let Him In!

Jack was jogging through his local county park one grey afternoon when he felt an intense pain run down his left arm. Slowing his pace he turned down a wooded path that led back to his car. The light grew dimmer, and then, much to his surprise, the sun appeared and he noticed a wall on each side that he’d never seen before. At the end was a white gate, then a green garden filled with sunshine.

When Jack reached the gate a kind-faced woman opened it, smiled and said, “Welcome Jack. I’m Marie. They’re expecting you. Please sit over by the flowering tree and someone will be right with you.”

Then she walked about 30 yards, went through a door in a hedge, and was gone.

Jack knew he should be disturbed by these strange circumstances, yet he wasn’t. He felt uncommonly relaxed. He was wondering what tree produced such colorful and fragrant blossoms, and where his car had gone, when a young handsome man approached him.

“Welcome, Jack,” he said. “I’m Elias. I just want to ask you a few questions and your escort will take you to your room. Do you have any favorite colors?”

“Well, I really like yellows, bright blue and white. But why do you want to know?” asked Jack.

”We’re getting your place ready for you,” Elias said as he made notes in a file folder. “What view do you prefer: woods, fields, mountains, lake?”
“Lake, please,” said Jack. “But tell me, why am I here? Am I dead?”
“Not anymore,” Elias said.“You had a heart attack on the jogging path. When you walk through the door in the hedge you will enter unending life. There is just one thing you will do before you go to that door. It is our custom here to let the newest arrival greet the next arrival, as Marie greeted you. I’ll stay here with you until he arrives.”

Jack couldn’t tell how long they waited. It seemed to him that time was no longer important. He felt content and joyful like never before. He wanted to sit there forever. Then he heard steps approaching the gate. Elias took out another file and said, “This is Mike. Please open the gate and let him in.”

Jack happily walked toward the gate, but when he saw Mike, everything changed.

A volcano of fear, grief, hate and anger erupted inside Jack. He reheard the shouts, the shots, the explosive crash, saw the blood everywhere and felt the cold face of the friend he loved.

“No!” he cried. “No! I can’t let him in. Elias, don’t you know what he did?”

Elias’s eyes spoke understanding, but his voice was steady and low. “No, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have his record?” insisted Jack incredulously.

“No, we don’t. All records were destroyed by our Lord.”

“There must be a record somewhere,” Jack insisted.

“Oh, yes, there is, but it’s not here. The Accuser has it. He saves everything.”

“The Accuser?”

“Yes, the Accuser. In Hebrew he’s called Satan.”

“Wait, you have some records. When I got here you knew my name and some of my history.”

“Oh, yes, of course we know some things, like when you started to follow the Lord. Let me see. Michael Sullivan. Born again April 18, 2021, McCreary Prison, Lexington, Kentucky.”

“You have prisoners here?!” Jack exclaimed.

“Oh, no! We don’t imprison anyone. That would be the other place. So, are you going to let him in?”

“Look, I don’t see why I am under any obligation to open the door for Mike. That would be like saying I forgive him for what he did to me.”

“Precisely”

“But I never agreed to that.”

“Oh, but you did. Thousands of times.”

“Thousands of times? When?”

“Did you ever pray the prayer the Lord taught his disciples?” Elias asked. “You call it the Lord’s Prayer.”

“Of course I’ve prayed it. Ever since I was a kid. We even used to pray it in school when I was little. What’s that got to do with this?”

After a pause, Elias continued, “Did you pray ‘forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us?’”

After a long silence Jack admitted he had.

“Well, then,” Elias said. “Forgive Mike the way our Lord has forgiven you…totally.”

“But that’s impossible,” Jack wailed.

“God never asks us to do impossible things. Hard, but not impossible.”

“But, can’t I ask God to forgive me even if I can’t forgive Mike?”

“Let me ask you something, Jack. Do you remember the story of the prodigal son? Even when his father begged him, the older son refused to join the party.”

Jack quickly glanced at Mike, waiting to be let in, and nodded.

“Do you still have the letter?” Elias asked.

Jack knew what letter Elias meant, the letter from the Victim-offender Reconciliation Program at the prison.

“Look,” continued Elias. “the door to unending life is right over there. It’s called forgiveness. It’s not called, “I forgive” or “I’m forgiven” it’s simply called “forgiveness.” You either want to go there, or you don’t. As soon as you let Mike in you can go together.”

Jack shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not ready. I need more time.”

“You want more time, Jack?” Elias asked.

Jack nodded.

“Granted.”

Jack felt his body lift and fall. Glaring lights blinded him. He heard a “beep, beep, beep” over his head.

“He’s back,” exclaimed a woman in blue scrubs.

‘Oh, no!” thought Jack. “What have I done?”

***********************

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. Mark 11:25

The Father and His Sons Part 4

The noise of the celebration grew as word of the son’s return spread through the community. Friends and neighbors showed up to welcome him home. (click here for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

The band arrived and music spewed into the nearby fields, reaching the ear of the older brother. He had been working hard and was uncomfortably hot when he stopped to wonder what the noise was.

“What neighbor could possibly be having a celebration on a work day?” he wondered. Looking around for an answer he was stunned to realize the commotion was from his father’s house.

Not having been told of any plans for a party, he called one of the servants and sent him to see what was going on.

When the servant returned he rather shyly told the older son that his father had hired a band and killed the fattened calf.

“What would ever make him do that?” demanded the son.

“Well,” the servant began hesitantly. “Well.”

“Well what!”

“Well, your brother has come home.”

“My brother is home and this is what my father does!” the son fumed, as he threw down his field tools and rushed to the house, sputtering insults as he went.

When he arrived in the front yard his father saw him and motioned him to come in and join the party.

But he would not. He stayed outside, getting more and more enraged.

Finally his father came out. The father should not have had to come out. His oldest son’s refusal to come in was insulting. But the father loved him.

“Son,” he said. “Please come in and celebrate with me. You know how heartsick I have been since your brother left. But now he is home. We can forget the sorrow and be happy again. Please come in.”

But he would not go in. Instead he quite disrespectfully yelled at his father.

“Look, all these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, but you never gave me even a little goat, so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!”

Now this father’s heart broke all over again. But he loved both his sons, so he said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It’s right that we celebrate and are glad, for your brother was dead, and now is alive; he was lost, and is found.”

And that is the end of the story. Jesus doesn’t tell us if the older brother joins the party. I think he wants you to decide.

***************

Scripture referenced: Luke 15:25-32

Red and Yellow, Black and Blue

“Red and yellow, black and blue….”

My three year old granddaughter was holding her newborn brother for the first time. We were taking cute shot after cuter shot, when she stopped “saying cheese” for us and looked into her tiny brother’s face.

Giving him a sweet little-mom smile she started softly singing, “Jesus loves the little children, all the children in the world, Red and yellow, black and blue, they are…” Her little voice stopped, looking for words to finish. “I don’t know what the words are,” she said.

My son, her dad, did a quick rewrite and sang with her, “Red and yellow, black and blue, they are precious to Him, too. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

“Red and yellow, black and blue” makes me recall how many bruises my boys had as they grew. They both gave themselves black eyes as they learned to walk. And one of them had so many black and blue marks on his legs from learning to ride a bike, I was sure his pediatrician would look suspiciously at me. When I told him that, he assured me the bruises did not fit patterns of abuse.

We don’t want to think about how many children wear those patterns of abuse. My office in a medical center was across the hall from the emergency room, One afternoon a badly bruised four year old was brought in. Our hearts broke when he died. Red and yellow, black and blue, they are precious to him, too.

I know an EMT who was called to revive a 3 month old who had been thrown against a wall. I know a teacher whose middle school student was hit and pushed by his mother until he suffered a brain injury and died And I’ve seen the photos of late-term babies after abortions ended their short lives, their baby skins darkly bruised.

Black and blue, they are precious to him, too.

We can be tempted to ask God why, if he loves them, he lets these abuses happen.

I think God however asks us, why, since he values them so much, we let these abuses happen.

Every child I just mentioned was in a situation that was known to be dangerous to the child. Someone could have intervened and chose not to, for fear of their own safety or livelihood.

Black and blue in many ways, we are all broken.

My granddaughter’s sweet pose with her baby reminded me of a famous statue that moved my heart when I saw it many years ago, Michelangelo’s “Pieta.” If any mother ever held an abused and bruised child, it was Mary holding the lifeless body of Jesus.

God took on flesh and suffered with every beaten kid, thrown toddler and aborted baby. Black and blue, they are precious to him, too.

The prophet Isaiah says,”He lifted up our illnesses, he carried our pain;… He was wounded because of our rebellious deeds,
crushed because of our sins;
he endured punishment that made us well;
because of his wounds we have been healed.”

Because Jesus rose from death I know that, in the end, there will be justice for every abused child. But there is also forgiveness offered for every abuser and every bystander who watched in silence. Everyone who wants to be healed, will be.

“Jesus died for all the children, all the children of the world. Red, brown, yellow, black and blue, they are precious to him, too. Jesus died for all the children of the world.”

***************

Scriptures: Isaiah 53:4-5 (NET )

Deliver Us From Evil

What is evil?

As I went to sleep Thursday night Russian forces were attacking Europe’s largest nuclear power plant. The plant was on fire, and I did not know if I would wake up to a world covered with radioactivity. The fire died out, and I woke to the relief that at least we were out of that imminent danger – safer than I expected, but by no means safe overall. Evil is still very much with us.

But what is evil?

Most countries of the world agree that Russia’s bombing and invading Ukraine is outright evil. We all have an inner moral sense of what is right and wrong, and we often know an act is evil without having to think about it.

In the Christian worldview recognizing evil starts with recognizing the goodness of God. Our God of love created a world that is good and beautiful. You can see that everywhere. If someone destroys that goodness and beauty you know that is evil.

My grandmother Emma was born near where the war is now raging, so I decided to pinpoint her birth on historical maps. I found she was born in the Russian Empire, to a German family, in a city that is now in Poland, on land that was tumultuously disputed for centuries by those nations. Her young life was also filled with tumult. The family was working-wealthy, but her dad died when she was 10 and her brother was one. Her mom remarried badly, and they fled the country to escape the police chasing her stepfather across the border. When her mom died 5 years later, she put her brother in an orphanage and went to work.

I never got to ask my grandma about her life; she died when I was an infant. But I do know what her favorite hymn was, Be Still My Soul:

Be still my soul the Lord is on thy side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain

Leave to thy God to order and provide

In every change He faithful will remain.

Jesus prepared us for a world plagued with evil when he said, “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In the world you have trouble and suffering, but take courage —I have conquered the world.”

And the prophet Isaiah instructs us how to not fear:

“Do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the LORD of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread. And he will become a sanctuary.”

When we have the proper fear of our all powerful, world-ruling, loving God, our hearts will fear no one else.

Be still, my soul; your God will undertake

to guide the future as he has the past;

your hope, your confidence, let nothing shake;

all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know

his voice who ruled them while he lived below.

*****************

Be Still My Soul (Sibelius)

Scriptures quoted: John 16:33 (NET) Isaiah 8:12-14 (ESV)

A Crumby Prayer

What if there were prayer screeners in Heaven – maybe a panel of judges that rate your prayers from zero to ten before they are sent on to the Throne Room? How would you do? No doubt you have heard some eloquent, beautifully spoken prayers at churches, ceremonies, and formal events. Would you give them a “10”? Would Heaven?

What if you were at the end of your rope, or sick, or depressed, utterly exhausted and could hardly put three words together, would God listen to you?

One day such a woman harassed Jesus. Matthew calls her a Canaanite woman; Mark calls her a Syrophoenician woman; I call her a mom – a mom with an incurably sick little daughter. She hears Jesus is in town and she has no time to compose a winning plea for his help. She rushes to the house where Jesus is trying to remain unseen and starts yelling for Jesus.

“Have mercy on me, Lord,” she cries, “My daughter is horribly demon-possesed.”

Falling on the floor at his feet she begs, “Lord, help me!”

But there seems to be a problem. This mom is a Gentile and Jesus was sent to the children of Israel. He tells her it wouldn’t be right to take the bread from the children and give it to the pets. The children have to eat first.

Whenever you are tempted to give up praying, remember this woman!

“But,” she says.

“But even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

What a crumby prayer! She admits she will settle for whatever bread will fall to the floor. Well, after all she is already down on the floor.

But much more than that, she knows who is making the bread.

When she started yelling for Jesus she called him “Son of David.” That’s the title of the heir to the royal throne, the Messiah, God’s anointed. These are no ordinary crumbs.

“Woman,” Jesus told her, “your faith is great! You may go. The demon has left your daughter.”

What bread do you need today?

In the prayer Jesus taught, we pray, “give us today our daily bread.”

We don’t need eloquence to ask God for what we need – we need confidence in who He is.

By all means, when you can, compose beautiful songs and prayers of praise to God. But when you can’t find words, that’s okay.

“Lord, help me” is enough.

************

Scripture reference: Matthew 15:22, Mark 7:25

Katie’s Cookies

When my sons were very little I brought home from the grocery story a Sesame Street book that held a recipe for Cookie Monster cookies. The recipe page had cute illustrations of Cookie Monster throwing all the ingredients in a large bowl and stirring them up with a huge fork. We followed his lead and thus began a family tradition of Cookie Monster cookies for Christmas.

Year after year we bought more and more cookie cutters and thrust them into rolled out dough – tin soldiers, doves, Santa’s sleigh, snow men, Christmas trees and such. Icing, sprinkles and edible silver balls completed the sweet joys.

And then came the year Katie died. We knew she was struggling health-wise, but her death just before Christmas and her 11th birthday, shook us with unexpected grief. Her parents chose to receive Katie’s mourners in their home. And so, with beautiful Katie’s still body resting in the living room, we were going to gather in the kitchen to share tears and food.

What should I bring? I peered in the fridge and saw the bowl of cookie dough. Inspiration hit and I started rolling dough and cutting out crosses and angels.

Arriving at Katie’s house I handed the plate of cookies to her mom and said, “These are resurrection cookies.”

Every Christmas since we have baked crosses and angels to celebrate Katie’s life and coming resurrection.

I wonder if the same angel who went to the shepherds with the news of great joy also greeted Jesus’s mourners.

Maybe the angel who told young Mary she would bear a son also told her,“Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said.”

“Do not be afraid.”

“Do not be afraid,” the angels say again and again.

Do not be afraid because there was a cross, and Jesus did die and live again.

“Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today in the city of David a Savior was born for you, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

A Savior was born for Katie.

A Savior was born for you.

If you roll out some cookie dough this week, I hope you make crosses and angels,

because Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

Do you believe this? Then rejoice and do not be afraid.

*********************************

Scripture references: Luke 2:10,11; Matthew 28:5,6

What Do You Want for Christmas?

What do you really want for Christmas?

We are coming to the end of a very weary year. I am sure peace, rest, and perhaps simply quiet are at the top of many lists. What’s at the top of yours?

If we traveled back in time to the year Jesus was born and asked Mary’s neighbors what they wanted most, their answers would’ve been very similar. They lived under brutal Roman rule, and the news stories of the year were as horrendous as ours. The Jewish people longed for peace, quiet and rest. And they had different ideas of how to get them.

The Zealots were a party of revolutionaries intent on throwing the Romans out of Palestine. This group attracted patriots and bandits, but the means to their goal was the same – force. Physical force would bring the rest they longed for.

Another party we all know was the Pharisees. They often argued with Jesus, but the group had begun with good intentions. When they read the prophets, they had concluded God would send the Messiah to help them when all the people were fastidiously obeying God’s Laws. Their good intentions turned into a holier-than-thou attitude that brought anything but rest to the weary.

Getting away from it all were the Essenes. They took very seriously the prophet Isaiah’s instructions to prepare a highway in the desert, making a road for the Messiah to come (Isaiah 40:3.) Moving into the desert they did get away from the noise and stress of city life in Jerusalem. But their lives were hard and bare, with not much rest.

As Joseph and his pregnant wife Mary walked from Nazareth to Bethlehem, they undoubtably passed members of all these parties. Unknown to them, the Messiah, the mighty king they all longed for, rocked gently in Mary’s womb as she passed by.

When it came time to announce Jesus’ birth the angel was not sent to the hideout caves of the Zealots, the desert homes of the Essenes or the scroll rooms of the Pharisees. The angel was sent to a field filled with sheep and shepherds.

Why God picked these shepherds to first hear the great news is beyond me. But I can guess why he did not pick the parties I listed. I think they would have been quite prone to argue with the angel. “No way!” I imagine them saying. “A baby in a manger in Bethlehem is not strong enough, not pure enough, not mystical enough. He can’t be what we are looking for.”

But he was exactly what they were looking for. And he is exactly what we are looking for when we wish for peace, quiet and rest.

Stop and listen again to what the angel told the shepherds. Listen with all your heart and let the truth sink in:

“Do not be afraid! Listen carefully, for I proclaim to you good news that brings great joy to all the people: Today your Savior is born in the city of David. He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a vast, heavenly army appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among people with whom he is pleased!”

The prophet Isaiah said, “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!”

May Jesus be first on your list this Christmas.

************************************************************

Scripture references:

Isaiah 26:3 (NLT)

Luke 2:10-14 (NET))

Would You Ever Leave Again?

What do you think about the older brother’s reaction to his brother’s returning home? Read about him here.

In Jesus’ story we often refer to the younger brother as “the prodigal son.” You know how after wasting his father’s hard-earned wealth, he finds himself destitute, walks home barefoot, and is enthusiastically greeted by his dad who throws a big party to celebrate his return.

What could possibly have given the younger son the courage to walk back up to the door from which he had so arrogantly departed? What kind of man do you think the son knew his father to be? At least he knew he was a good man, not lacking in compassion or prone to retribution. I would guess he also knew his father loved him. That he did not expect the welcome home celebration he received tells us he had underestimated both his father’s love and his father’s grief when he left home. But he knew his father would treat him as well as any other beggar who showed up asking for work, so he went home.

Imagine yourself in this son’s place. You are expecting a lecture and hoping for a few pieces of bread, and instead you get the best clothes, a ring on your finger and the fattened calf with the local band. Would you ever leave your father again?!

Now imagine you are the older brother. You had watched your dad worry and grieve over your brother. You saw him age years in the months his son was away. You had hoped to never see the ungrateful brat again, but here he is and your father has not held back anything to celebrate. And you are mad! So you stay outside, hoping your father will notice how mad you are. When he sees you he comes out with a big smile on his face and begs you to please come in and be glad with him. Why do you refuse?

I love the story of the prodigal son because it speaks so clearly and loudly of God’s heart for you and me. He wants us home. Never mind where you have been – never mind what you have done – never mind all the time you wasted – just come home and celebrate our being a family. Your Father loves you. He wants you with him, under his roof, safe and sound, surrounded by love.

Jesus told us to pray, “your will be done.” Maybe we left home like this younger son because we thought we knew better how to enjoy life. When we found out how wrong we were, we went home, knowing our Father’s will was our good. Would we ever leave again?

How different this is from the relationship the older son has with his father when he says,

“Look, all these years I have worked for you like a slave, and I have never disobeyed your orders.”

He’s doing the father’s will, but his obedience is contractual, and he feels like a hired worker.

Meanwhile inside the younger son is eating and dancing and reveling in his father’s love. Tomorrow morning the three of them will head out to the fields together.

Which son would you rather be?

Pray Like This: Your Kingdom Come

How would you describe the perfect country (the perfect kingdom?) Stop for a moment and think about it. Make a mental list of what that kingdom would be like.

For thousands of years men and women have dreamed of the perfect kingdom, utopias where everything is perfect. They dreamed of places where everyone is fed, everyone gets along with their neighbors, and fighting never molests the peace. Building utopias has often been tried, but has always ended in disasters where tyrannical rule took over. History proves that. There are no Camelots we can point at and say, “There!”

The crowds who followed Jesus fully expected him to usher in the perfect Jewish kingdom with himself as king. But when Jesus was before the Roman ruler Pilate, who asked, ”Are you a king?” Jesus answered,

“My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, …. But my kingdom is not from the world.”

Jesus taught us to pray “your kingdom come.” He had two basic rules for his kingdom. The second being “love your neighbor as yourself.” Look at your mental list for the perfect kingdom. If everyone followed this simple rule I can project that your kingdom would exist. Easy enough?

So why are we so bad at building utopias? It’s because we do not have it in ourselves to build them. We do not have it in ourselves to love our neighbors as ourselves. If you are married or have children you know that no matter how much you love your spouse or child, self-interest often rules and ruins the day. We want to live in our perfect kingdoms where we are the kings and queens, even at the expense of others. Utopias crumble under the weight of our selfishness.

But Jesus’ kingdom did not crumble. Pilate, who was wise to the ruthless power plays of the Roman Empire, stood stunned before Jesus who refused to even defend himself. Then, in a move to keep his own power intact, Pilate ordered Jesus’ crucifixion. In the greatest irony every, Jesus’ kingdom rose with power when he laid down his life for us, the most perfectly selfless act in all history.

When Jesus asks us to pray “Your kingdom come,” it is an invitation into the unconquerable Kingdom of God where you are loved and cared for beyond anything you can imagine. Jesus doesn’t just tell us to stop acting selfishly, he enables us to do so by transforming us with His overwhelming love.

Take a minute to read about the son who came home in this post and this and this. There’s a big party at the end, but the elder brother refuses to go in. You can read about it here. Let me know what you think the older brother decides, and I will meet you back here next week.

Choose Your King

Jerusalem, 30 AD. An itinerant teacher from Galilee borrows a donkey and rides downtown followed by a cheering crowd. He goes into the temple and starts acting like he owns the place. Today, 1991 years later, we are still talking about it.

Overturning tables and chairs, spilling coins, driving out dealers of pigeons, Jesus clears the temple court of merchants and money changers. He accuses the authorities of turning this place of prayer into a den of thieves. They, in turn, are indignant and plot to eliminate the troublemaker.

The dispute here runs much deeper than disagreement about the use of the courtyard. The question is really about who is king.

The chief priests were ruling like kings, backed by the Roman Empire. The were interlopers, having neither the right to the office of chief priest or claim to be rulers. But they had power and wealth, so they didn’t care about rightful succession – at least not until the rightful heir to the throne and the temple showed up riding a donkey.

A courtyard filled with children yelling “Hosanna to the Son of David!” was too much truth for them.

If you recall the Christmas story you know that Jesus was born into the House of David. King David, before he died, prepared stones, timber and hardware for the building of the temple. His son King Solomon built the temple. Their descendant King Hezekiah cleansed the temple after a period of neglect. And his descendent, King Zerubbabel, returned to Jerusalem from exile and rebuilt the temple the Babylonians had torn down. Now their descendent Jesus walks in and claims the place. He also claims standing as the son of God.

Five days later Jesus is under arrest. His hands are tied and he is on trial before Pilate, the Roman proconsul, having been handed over by the chief priests.

Pilate asks him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”

Outside a crowd, stirred up by the chief priests, is yelling, “We have no king but Caesar.”

You know what happens next. Pilate finds Jesus innocent but orders crucifixion; he is afraid of the king in Rome, Caesar. The priests go celebrate their holiday, thinking their status with Caesar is secure. Those who have chosen Jesus as king, shocked and confused, go home and mourn.

Had you been there in Jerusalem, whom would you have chosen, Jesus or Caesar?

Every day, whether we think about it or not, we choose our king. High priests of our culture are demanding your obedience. They might use their wealth and power of influence to cancel and destroy you if you choose Jesus. Click here if you don’t know what I am talking about.

Before his arrest Jesus made a promise to his friends: “Your sorrow will turn into joy.” He kept that promise. When Sunday came he rose from death and the world changed forever.

Choose your king wisely. All the rulers and priests who tried to cancel Jesus are gone, as today’s soon will be.

Jesus is alive and looking for you. Choose wisely.