Like a sunrise is like an eruption of colors and praise into the sky, it seems to be creation’s way of boasting of the glory of God.

Even the birds burst out in song at the break of the day. Just like I find myself at times in the car or in worship suddenly erupting in praise, dawn sets off a spontaneous stream of melody.

Psalm 146 is a recounting of the reasons to burst into praising the Lord. In ten verses, it summarizes, encapsulates, and bullet points the faithfulness of God—a list that moves us to praise Him and boast about who He is.

He is the God of creation and salvation. He is the God who frees us, helps us, and provides for us. Generation after generation He has demonstrated His faithfulness to those who love Him.

As we approach the heart of Holy Week, may we recall the depth of God’s love (Ephesians 3:17–19) and the miraculous ways God brings us closer to Him. He has sent His Son Jesus as the Prince of Peace to rescue us, to be our salvation. He has made a way for us to be filled with the fullness of God!

God’s faithfulness through generations is spoken throughout the stories of the Bible and in the recounting of our own generational stories. As we recall His faithfulness, may our hearts and mouths burst out in praise like the sunrise that shines His glory!

Even through our darkest seasons, light arises. He is our hope—our expectation. And this final phrase in Psalm 146:10 declares an outburst of the hope that reflects the dawn of the Easter message.

The LORD reigns forever;
Zion, your God reigns for all generations.
Hallelujah!
—Psalm 146:10

A new life. Isn’t that the message of the gospel?

Jesus says in Mark 10:14, “Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them.” He spoke their language and embraced them. The lessons Jesus taught by example in welcoming the children are the same methods He used to reach out to all seeking Him. Jesus welcomes us to new life in His home with the same hospitality. He invites us to eat together at His table, to discover threads of familiar language and stories and memories to create and share.

When we invite children into the opportunity to experience new life by inviting them into our home, it doesn’t matter if we have enough beds or towels or food on the table. It may be for a snack, for a meal, for a sleepover, or for a short-term stay. We welcome children into the kingdom when we welcome them into our space. Maybe Jesus’s love looks like warm chocolate chip cookies or painting rocks on the porch or reading a book out loud together or skipping rocks. Jesus was interactive with those around him, reaching out to them right where they were. He invites us to run to Him, to Abba, Father, a Father who welcomes us with open arms and will squeeze us close to his chest in his embrace. 

“Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 
—Mark 10:15

But something inside us is wired to labor and spin. We worry about kids, marriages, health, world events, work, what we will prepare for dinner, and what we will wear. Though these things are good, somehow through comparison or pride, our perspective becomes distorted when we believe everything is under our control. And what about the Big Worries? The ones too difficult to even speak? How will we release our hold on those?

There is a silent satisfaction we take in accomplishing and doing instead of just being. But our laboring can turn into a vortex of do lists, worries, and fears of what may or may not happen. Our labors can turn from acts of love into a frenzy of spinning thoughts and endless worries.

Matthew encourages us as we observe the beauty of the wildflowers as an alternative to this labor. That can sound easy to say but harder to live out when our pattern each day is to grab each thought as it comes to ponder or worry over. But Matthew tells us to take on none of these thoughts. The writers of today’s passages instead guide us to do the opposite of our habitual response of worry: Matthew tells us of Jesus’s call to “seek first the kingdom of God” (Matthew 6:33). Habakkuk tells us to “celebrate in the Lord.” Jesus says, “Have the people sit down” (John 6:10). Peter says, “Humble yourself, therefore, under the mighty hand of God” (1Peter 5:6).

Seek first. Celebrate. Sit down. Humble yourself.

These deliberate actions turn us from spinning to slowing down. They ask us to give into moments of grace and gratitude, exchanging anxious thoughts for waves of peace—peace that soothes when we sit down to read His word, lightness we sense when celebrate the Lord through the melody of a worship song, and freedom we feel when we humble our hearts and let go of directing our own way by surrendering to His.

The cords of anxiety loosen as we turn from spinning our web of anxious thoughts to praising the God who made the heavens and the earth. As we praise, we observe our humble place before a mighty God.

Posturing into this place of humility does not lessen us. Instead, it exalts God as the mighty One who cares so much for His creation—about me, about you—to spin and clothe and adorn us and provide just what is needed, and more, when we seek Him first.

When the Israelites returned to their hometown, the first thing they set in place was the altar of God. The altar would be their temporary location to honor and worship Him. But in order to complete the restoration of the house of God, they had to wait until the foundation was laid. They sent for the best materials, the finest cedars from Lebanon, to rebuild the crumbling foundation of the temple.

Their response when the foundation was finally complete: “All the people gave a great shout of praise to the LORD because the foundation of the LORD’s house had been laid” (Ezra 3:11). 

In the background, others were weeping because they grieved the first house of the Lord (v.12).

At times we are caught between the two, between grieving how things used to be and fully rejoicing at the new thing that God is doing. When we feel torn between the two, we have the opportunity to realign ourselves with God’s Word to restore our crumbling foundation. The cornerstone of His truth is the foundation for the framework of our lives, our circumstances, and our emotions. God’s truth is our foundation in this unstable world. Here, because of the work of Jesus, we can make His presence our habitation and dwelling place (Deuteronomy 12:5).

Where in life is your sanctuary, your reminder that you are invited to meet with God, where we remember our foundation in Him? Where do we go to lay back down on the altar the things that keep us from worshiping Him alone? So many elements pull us away and distract us from worshiping God with our whole hearts. When we return to the altar of surrender, God fills us with the joy of His presence!

Hebrews 10:9–10 uncovers why we now have direct access to the presence of God: Jesus was the final sacrifice on the altar of the cross. He inhabits our hearts when we abide in His nearness. We can experience the fullness of joy in His presence in our favorite chair, in our living room, or on the front porch!

Through the timbers of the cross, our foundation is firmly established. May that truth fill us with overwhelming praise, so we can shout from the core of our being, “‘For he is good; his faithful love…endures forever’” (Ezra 3:11). 

We are in a different home now, one half the size but much newer. I wonder how our adult children will react when they walk through the front door that is different from the one that backdropped their first day of school photos every year?

New memories will be built in this house. Although I miss our dwelling place of twenty years, it was only a frame of stucco and wood that housed our family. Our family continues to live on, apart from every wall and detail that made our home.

God was not limited by the temple that David’s son Solomon was ordained to build. Before that commission, He lived from tent to tent and dwelling to dwelling (1Chronicles 17:5). God was not contained in the ark or the glorious details of the tabernacle His artisans designed and created.  

God’s throne was not established by the priceless cedars that framed his temple but by the wooden timbers that built the cross. For it was the moment that Jesus, a Son of David, took on death and sin for us on the cross that He opened the door for His Spirit to live in us. We became His dwelling place.

We became His temple that frames His power, love, and glory and bears the image of His kingdom to others. When we abide and dwell in Him, His kingdom abides and dwells in us.

Let your name be confirmed and magnified forever in the saying, “The LORD of armies, the God of Israel, is over Israel.” May the house of your servant David be established before you.
—1 Chronicles 17:24 

The framework of two timbers in the shape of a cross established the house of God on this earth. Through these timbers, the kingdom of God will reign forever, and through the death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus, His kingdom dwells within us.

This is God’s promise, His covenant (Romans 1:3). 

The establishment of His house means we are His dwelling place. Unlike the presence of God in the ark moving from place to place, from tent to tent, from dwelling to dwelling as He did throughout the Old Testament, the two timbers of the cross were what was needed to establish Jesus alone as our dwelling place.

The word dwell is closely related to the idea of abiding. We abide by taking refuge and shelter in Him because of the timbers of the cross and the nails driven into His hands to house our pain. Our sorrow. Our sin.

In today’s reading, we see that Jesus revealed the most extraordinary truths about His character in everyday moments. In Luke 24, Jesus walked alongside two of His followers the day He rose from the grave, a day full of the uproar of confusion. Jesus’s tomb had been found empty that morning, and two of His closest disciples were walking on the road to Emmaus trying to make sense of all that had happened. The stories they had heard, the events they had witnessed, and the questions behind an empty tomb were all conflicting and confusing.

What is our response when we have trouble making sense of the resurrection story, whether believing it ourselves or trying to make it understandable to someone else? Instead of only attempting to convince someone else of this truth, we can live out His presence within us in the everyday. We need to allow Jesus himself to draw near (Luke 24:15). 

Jesus met those who were having trouble understanding who He was by walking on the road with them and having conversations with them. Allowing those He walked with to ask questions and recount what they believed. He gave them excerpts of stories they knew from the Scriptures they had learned. It was the truth of the words He spoke that made the difference—the prompting of the Holy Spirit within Him.

Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us on the road 
and explaining the Scriptures to us?
—Luke 24:32

His Spirit, the whisper of His drawing near, sparks that burning in our hearts. The truth that Jesus is alive and has risen from the grave is revealed not only in words but in the witness of a life changed. 

A conversation can arise, causing confusion or controversy regarding the resurrection while walking trails, in the coffee shop, or on a neighbor’s porch. These are places where Jesus Himself can draw near.

In His last days, He passionately attempted to make the words of His Father’s message clear: He is the Son of God, our Savior. Days earlier, He physically cleared the temple. 

On this day, He spoke in parables (Matthew 22:1). Through stories, He tries to make His point to the mixed audience of locals and religious leaders, making clear the demands of God’s word. 

He could ask us the same. Maybe you have heard stories of Abraham, King David, a wedding feast, and a coin due to Caesar during the early days of Sunday School. Or maybe you’re reading for the first time as an adult today. 

Jesus uses wordplay to point out that He fulfills these stories. On the days leading up to His death on the cross, the words He chose to explain who He is left all who heard them marveling, astonished, awestruck. 

He catches them in their own snare when they ask Him: what are the most important laws to obey? (v.36).

He answers the upright religious leaders with the words of the shema, a prayer recited from their earliest days of the Jewish faith: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (v.37).

Picture Jesus on stage today, lips close to the microphone that He clutches in His hand, His voice capturing the audience of believers and skeptics with authority and truth. He leans in for one last word. A well-known word. He drops the mic. He turns and walks away.

The words He chose to speak held familiarity and authority.

Are these words we hear authoritative or just words to recite: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (v.37).

The Hebrew word shema means to hear. Do we listen to what Jesus is saying?

This melody repeats over and over, a song and proclamation of God’s message of salvation. Those lyrics are taken directly from Isaiah 40:5, the opening passage of today’s reading. John, the child we read about today, was born to do this very thing: to reveal the glory of the Lord. What a beautiful prayer his father, Zechariah, speaks over his child, “you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways” (Luke 1:76).

From the beginning, his father knew the Lord had purposed his son to point others toward the Savior. And from the beginning, John knew his calling was to prepare the way for Jesus. He was the one who was sent “to give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins” (Luke 1:77).

Experiencing God’s tender mercy in our lives compels us to share mercy with others. 

As we move our way through the bustling season listening to Christmas songs in the background, may we keep this in mind: Like John, our purpose is to point the way toward the Savior. It may be a small act of kindness. A softly spoken word. A gift card slipped across the counter to a server. A smile or thank you to a weary salesperson.

Everyone is busy at this time of the year. We enter this season weary after a long season of wilderness. Isolation and separation have left many empty and dry like the desert. Small acts of kindness fall on parched souls, thirsty after a desert season. Our voice can reflect His voice with words of encouragement and affirmation to both strangers and friends. 

What Zechariah prophesied years ago, still holds true today: 

Blessed is the Lord, the God of Israel, 
because he has visited 
and provided redemption for his people.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David,
just as he spoke by the mouth 
of his holy prophets in ancient times
(Luke 1:68–70).

This Christmas season, may we be a voice for the coming Messiah. One who prepares the way for others to receive the Savior born in a manger. One who reflects His glory in our countenance and gestures. May our actions and words be a melody to others, proclaiming the wonder and celebration of God’s mercy!

Pay attention to the word look in our reading today. It invites us to observe something unexpected, and to take note because what is about to happen will be unlike anything before.

A hint of the importance of looking ahead occurs in our reading from Genesis: “Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance” (Genesis 22:4).

From far away, Abraham perceived this significant place—one that would be a place of hope and provision. There he would witness God provide a ram to take the place of his son. Generations later, God would provide His own Son, Jesus Christ, near that same mountain as our saving sacrifice.

We recognize this thread of wonder expressed in His Word.

Israel, put your hope in the LORD. 
For there is faithful love with the LORD, 
and with him is redemption in abundance.
—Psalm 130:7 

Hope in the Lord. Recognize His redemptive plan. See from afar how amazing it is, both in anticipation and completion!

Abraham’s story mirrors the story God put in place to redeem us. It foreshadows the promise in John 3:17, that the baby born in the manger was not sent “to condemn the world, but to save the world.”

In John 1:29, we read John the Baptist’s exclamation, “Look!”, as he urges us to seek out and behold the unexpected and unbelievable, to look past the familiar. Throughout the passages of today’s reading, there are numerous calls to observe the threads of a bigger story unfolding before us. Each story is a piece of a greater story that points toward when the narrative is fulfilled in the flesh and bone of Jesus Christ: “Look! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29). 

The perfect, sinless baby we celebrate in the manger is the unblemished lamb of God who offered Himself on the tangled wood of the cross to redeem the world. Look past the familiarity of the season, and see from a distance the wonder of the stories that lead to the nativity. Lift your eyes to inspect the wonder of the promise God fulfilled when He provided the lamb, Jesus Christ, to save us.

A decade later, my teenage heart beat wildly in my chest, urging me to come forward amidst the sounds of praise music, beckoning me to come closer to God, the One who seemed so holy and far away. That day I knelt before a different altar, not in ceremony but in surrender.

The early years of sensing the holiness of God prepared me to kneel in wonder of the reality that I could draw near to God Himself. In this passage, we see how God made way for us to draw near to Him in confidence. 

Let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need. ––Hebrews 4:16

It is difficult to wrap our heads around the truth that the God of the universe wants us to draw near. With confidence. To receive mercy. And grace.

Grace means to receive something undeserved. That undeserved gift is that Jesus Christ is the source of eternal salvation. 

Jesus is the source, who walked with humanity on earth. He was holy, yet approachable (Hebrews 4:15).

He endured every temptation (Matthew 4:1–11). He suffered for us (Hebrews 5:8). He sympathizes with our every weakness (Hebrews 4:15). 

The wonder of wonders is not only did He save us; He desires to draw near to us. The holy one that endured every suffering and pain because of His love for us longs for us to draw close. To approach Him. The God of the universe. He invites us not only to draw near, but to hold fast to our confession that He saved us. 

The word krateo in Greek means holding fast, not letting go. The way we would grab on to the hand of a loved one, a grasp that is steadfast and unyielding to any thought of letting go. A grasp that holds on even tighter when difficulties urge us to release. A grasp that keeps us knuckle to knuckle in the grip of His love.