Christian Author and Speaker
Ron and I have a passion for waterfalls, so today we made plans to see five waterfalls in surrounding areas outside this huge park. We marked them on our map, set our gps for directions, and headed toward Ironwood on the Wisconsin border. Our goal: five waterfalls.
We saw one.
The dull but busy road we encountered yesterday in the Lower Peninsula (click here to read Post 1) changed to an unusually quiet stretch of lonesome highway as we crossed the large bridge and headed west, chasing the sun in its setting hours. It was like we had traveled some decades back in time.
Today’s highway is paved, flat, barren, and ugly, but adequate and necessary, nonetheless, for our purpose of journey – to pull our little “home away from home,” headed north to our destination, yet 600 miles away. The eyes of my driver, the man I’ve journeyed with nearly 50 years must scan the road, follow the lanes, obeying the signage and lineage. I choose to observe the landscape – instead of the road.
I pray as I walk the sandy lane, talking to the Father about those early days, years ago, when I was so zealous in my faith, so trusting, so willing. I remember the words written on the thin pages of my King James Bible, so vivid and distinct, as though they were freshly written with the very ink on the true papyrus used by St. Paul. The words seemed to magnify, embolden, and rise up, penetrating my spirit:
The day was the worst ever. It was neither “Good” nor “Holy,” as we now refer to the Friday of Holy Week. In the midst of the curious, the angry, the Jewish officials, and the Roman soldiers, this handful of Christ followers – the women – stood near the cross, numbed in their sorrow and despair. Their Messiah, their Lord, their Savior, had been brutally beaten – beyond recognition. Earlier, they had followed Him and the procession of onlookers as He carried His cross, sometimes falling to the ground, up the hill.
How can He possibly continue. Please God.
But He did continue.
It’s not “by chance” that our small group is discussing John, Chapter 18 this week – the week we believers refer to as “Holy Week.”
Pharoah, the ruler of Egypt – the enemy of the Israelites – detested the words of Moses and Aaron regarding God’s plan for the Israelites. He referred to their words as lies and told his overseers to “Make the work harder for the people
It’s early, but people are already settling at the beach. Couples open beach chairs and women open their books. Multi-colored umbrellas pop out of the sand in both directions, north and south, as far as I can see.
My NIV translation has sub-titled the beginning of John Chapter 14 “Jesus Comforts His Disciples.”
Thank you, Jesus. I need it – that comfort. Don’t you, friend?
New followers of Jesus Christ are often advised to begin their reading of the Bible with the book of John. I understand why! It’s all about the teachings of Jesus – His ministry – from His baptism through His resurrection and after, 21 chapters in all. Now, as I dig into the 13th chapter, I (and you) have the advantage of looking ahead – knowing what’s coming: