Jane Foard Thompson is an inspirational speaker and award winning author and poet. A former Montessori teacher in Texas and Utah, for eight years Jane and her husband were missionaries in Honduras, Central America. After working for the American Red Cross in Idaho, they now live in Florida, where she writes, leads music and women's Bible studies at their church, and enjoys nine grandchildren and her Golden Retriever, Lily.
Who believes what we’ve heard and seen?
Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.
We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,on him, on him.
As they entered Jerusalem on what we now call Palm Sunday, the disciples basked in Hosannas. Finally, the kingdom they anticipated was unfolding—and they were in the right place!
But when Jesus passed the bread and wine—his body and blood? — confusion must have swirled in their eyes. Betrayal? Secret doubts struggled within. Where would they lead?
In the garden, the long week took its toll. They slept. Even after Jesus chided them, they couldn’t get beyond exhaustion. Jesus shared his ministry with them for three years. Now, he was on his own.
I think his struggle in Gethsemane was with more than physical pain. At the start, Satan had tempted Jesus with shortcuts to the vision. Now, Satan returned to say it wouldn’t matter. Even if Jesus went through with all this needless suffering, the world wouldn’t care—wouldn’t accept his gift of life.
Then Jesus was arrested, thanks to that no-good-Judas (relief— it isn’t me!). Jesus let them take him away. What was going on? Couldn’t the power that just raised Lazarus from the dead protect Jesus from scruffy temple guards? What about our kingdom?
There was no understanding it. No entering into it.
There still isn’t.
We can’t go where only the Lamb of God can walk. Only the one who was GOD and man could carry our sin—everything wrong we would ever think, or say, or do.
Like the disciples, we look for the kingdom where it fits our idea of power or success. You can explore your spirituality, and even be a god. Or stay in church, follow rules, but miss the kingdom, thinking WE carry the cross—that we can do enough, or be enough, to merit the presence of God.
My sin nailed him there, yet he looked down at me, through his pain, and smiled.
For months, every time I prayed, my only answer was Jesus on the cross, me kneeling at his feet, and Jesus smiling.
Finally on Good Friday, the day many Christians recall the crucifixion, I once again knelt at the cross. This time, Jesus smiled and said, “Janie, I love you.”
Weeks after that, every time I prayed, seeking answers and direction, the response was simply Jesus on the cross, smiling and whispering, “Janie, I love you.”
I was a very long time in believing it.
Why is it so hard for us to accept a gift that another paid so heavily for?
Accepting the gift of life has been my journey.
As Jesus cried over Jerusalem, he cried in the garden for all of us who would needlessly stumble on in darkness, unaware of the relief, redemption and salvation he offers.
Because of what Jesus conquered in the garden and on the cross, every one of us can have our lives changed. From the weight of our past, mistakes we made and those made against us, or from fear of our future, the center of our lives can become real and whole.
“The center of salvation is the Cross of Jesus, and the reason it is so easy to obtain salvation is because it cost God so much. The Cross is the point where God and sinful man merge with a crash and the way to life is opened—but the crash is on the heart of God.” Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
Spring is in full bloom here in southwest Florida. I’ve waited a few weeks to say so, in consideration of those who still shovel snow or stare at dirt-encrusted snow piles, instead of deep pink azaleas or an apricot colored Amaryllis.
azaleaamaryllis
Only three weeks ago, the deciduous trees (yes, we do have a few that stand bare for several months) sported nothing more than buds. Now, bright green leaves wave in the breeze. The Easter lilies have sent up fresh stalks and I’m hoping for blooms in two weeks. My Crepe myrtles unfurled new leaves just a day ago, and I’ve put in a few tomato, dill and basil plants.
Sounds like paradise, doesn’t it?
None of us live in Eden.
Here, we don’t have a true fall. (Our seasons are actually rainy season and dry season.) When the days grow longer and the sap starts pushing, like permanent teeth taking their place in the mouth, the oaks shed brown leaves as the new ones push into place. However, before the oaks are painted bright green, thousands of leaves have to be raked and bagged.
Along with the amaryllis comes new growth of a wretched, invasive vine with vicious thorns.
thorny vine
And every bare spot in the yard is filled with ugly weeds that boast hundreds of seeds. (Interesting, they grow best in the poorest soil.) Even if I spray weed killer, they go to seed before they die. Pulling by hand is the only way to get rid of them.
weed
Much as I yearn for beauty, peace, and an uncomplicated life, escape from disease, cruelty and death, as long as I live in this world, it will always be a mixed bag.
What I do with that bag is what makes the difference. Many circumstances I have no control over, but I get to choose my focus.
Will I look at the flower, or the thorn?
The old injury, or the sculpted tree?
opening in trunktree on snowy landscape
When nothing else lines up, can I see the morning light in a spider web and take delight in small graces?
spider web in morning dew
When the branches look bare, will I search for the bud or recall last spring, and trust that it will leaf again?
spring leaves
Are there bare branches in your life?
Does it seem like forever since leaves danced over you?
Glimpse of Peace 