Author: admin

Reading: Mark 4
“The Potential in the Seed” by Cale Ownby

I typically read this parable as a call to be Good Soil, and I don’t think this is incorrect. The good soil produces a crop, so let’s be good soil! Don’t get me wrong. I am not always the good soil. Sometimes I am the rocky soil, a day here, or a month there; and sometimes I am the soil with the weeds, a week here, or a year there. In different seasons in my life, I will identify as different kinds of soil. I think we all do.

I grew up in the suburbs of Houston, so I am no farmer, but I do know enough about business to know that a good farmer isn’t so careless with his seed. Seed costs money, money that was hard-earned from the previous harvest. For a farmer, each seed holds the potential of multiplying the investment. An important factor for if and how much a seed will yield is the time and location. Nowadays farmers have charts, graphs, pH readings, water sensors, and years upon years of statistics that advise the exact location and time to plant that seed. They know where to invest that potential so they get the best return on investment. Even in Jesus’ day, a good farmer would know enough that they wouldn’t try to plant seed in shallow soil, much less on a path where the birds eat.

But this farmer does.

This farmer invests all of this seed, this potential into ground that will not bear a crop. I’d like to think that the farmer knows something we don’t. The potential for this farmer is not the seed; the potential is the ground. Where there was rocky ground last season, a river may have risen and deposited deep, fertile soil this season. Weeds that grew in this soil last season may have died out and created well-fertilized soil this season. The farmer doesn’t pick and choose where to sow the seed; they sow it everywhere, because that is where the potential is. Jesus doesn’t pick and choose where to share his love, and where to share his word.

Reading: Mark 3
Store by Rob Bell

Anger is simply an emotion. It’s just your body’s way of telling you that your will has been blocked. What you want to happen isn’t happening. The problem isn’t anger; the problem is what we do with it. It’s where we take it. It’s where we go with it. The question is, why am I angry? Because my anger is going to lead somewhere.

There is a response to anger that’s essentially all about us. Our pride, our ego, all of the ways we work so hard to prop up and protect and defend our selfish little kingdoms. But that isn’t what’s going on here with Jesus. Jesus has identified himself with an injustice larger than himself. There is something divine about his anger because some things are worth getting angry about.

“Find somebody who is depressed, tired, exhausted; you get them angry and it’s like rocket fuel. I mean, it is unbelievable energy and stimulus. There is power within us when we’re angry that can frighten us.”

What does Jesus do with his anger? The Scripture says that he looks around at the religious leaders and then he says to the man with the injured hand, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ And the man stretches out his hand and Jesus heals him. Jesus’ anger leads to an act of healing and restoration. His anger, it increases the peace of the world. It leads to this good deed that makes things better.”

When we’re talking about calling and mission and vocation and purpose, what we’re going to give our lives to, one of the questions we often ask is, ‘What do you love?’ But there’s another question that we can ask. ‘What makes you angry?’

We need to embrace the simple truth that we were made to give ourselves to a cause bigger than ourselves…a cause that increases the peace in the world… a cause, a purpose, a task that makes the world a better place. May you become aware of your anger. May you learn to channel it, to focus it, direct it into something beautiful. And may it fuel sacred acts of healing and restoration.

Reading: Mark 2
Thoughts by Daniel Marolf

In Mark 2, we see a very short story about Jesus calling Levi, a tax collector, to come and follow him. Now tax collectors were pretty much universally hated in Mark’s world. They made their money by collecting taxes for the oppressive Roman government and charging extra off the top for themselves. With this background in mind, let’s consider the story in Mark 2:13-17 through the eyes of Levi. For whatever reason, you, Levi, are a tax collector, and you are hated by everyone you interact with. While sitting at your tax booth, a famous Jewish teacher draws near. You’ve seen Rabbis before and you’re accustomed to them ignoring you, so you pay no special attention. But shockingly, Rabbi Jesus looks right in your direction, and says, “Follow me.” You quickly snap your head around back and forth, positive he isn’t talking to you, but there is no one else it could be. You look into those tender eyes – those eyes looking at you like no one has in a very long time – like a person. You jump up, nearly knocking over your booth, and take your spot at Jesus’ side. You are called, even you.

Historically, Lent has been a time for Christians to set aside the distracting things of this world and prepare their hearts for Easter. Additionally, it has been a time for us to identify our sins, the things holding us back from God, and to repent from them. This Lenten season, may we hear the call of Jesus on our lives, “follow me.” And may we, like Levi, eagerly and joyously leave behind these trivial things and take our proper place at the side of Jesus.

Reading: Mark 1
Thoughts by Lamar Williamson, Jr.

It is not hard to answer a ringing telephone.

The compelling urgency of a call is at least part of the undiminished power of the call narrative in Mark 1:16-20. Jesus’ call of his first four disciples had evidently long been treasured in the communal memory of early Christians. The direct and vivid style, the stringing together of clauses with “and,” and the repeated point about leaving all to follow Jesus suggest the use of this story in the earliest preaching of the church.

In Mark, as the very first incident in Jesus’ public ministry, this passage introduces the group which, after Jesus himself, will be the second major concern of the entire story: the disciples. As soon as Jesus announces the Kingdom of God, he calls persons to enter it (“Follow me”) and to invite others to enter it, too (“I will make you fishers of men”). Although Mark lacks the strong church emphasis of Matthew, here too, the kingdom is corporate. Mark offers no solo salvation, no individualist reign or rule of God.

Reading: Mark 16
Thoughts by Ginny Smith

The day the women lost their voices and in the same day were given a message to share.

The Sabbath is over and Mary Magdalene, Mary and Salome are walking along with their supplies. They were on a mission; they were going to the tomb where Jesus had been laid to anoint him. They were prepared for what they were going to do, but definitely not prepared for what they found when they go there. The last conversation we are aware of is a discussion about who would roll the stone back for them when they got to the tomb.

Then no more words for these three women. If we had been there, this is what we might have seen. As they walked up, their eyes widened and then they looked puzzled. The stone was already rolled away.

They looked in and their eyebrows raised and they covered their mouths to keep from screaming. Jesus was gone. And someone else was sitting there – a young man in a white robe.

They all looked at each other, then back at the young man in amazement and disbelief. They started backing up ready to turn and leave. Then the young man opens his mouth to speak.

They close their eyes and pop them open again and he is still there. They hold out their hands, palms facing the man as if to say, no, this can’t be happening. He says “Don’t be alarmed.”

They blink and stared open mouthed. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene?” They nodded. “He is risen. He is not here.” Hands to mouth again, shaking their heads in disbelief. “See, here is where they laid him.”

They looked where he pointed. He sees them standing in fear and not knowing what to do. So he tells them. “Go tell the disciples and Peter, that Jesus is going before them to Galilee like he told them.” They are so overwhelmed that they turned from him and ran away.

We know from other gospel writings that they eventually find their voices and tell the disciples what they saw and heard. Here is what I think the women would tell us about their experience that day:

Watch. Look. Be amazed.

Jesus is not in the tomb anymore. He is risen. He fulfills his promises. He has given us a message to share with the world. He truly is the Son of God.

Reading: Mark 15
Thoughts by Mother Teresa

How does peace come? Through works of love. Where does it begin? At home. How does it begin? By praying together. For Prayer gives a clean heart and a clean heart can see God. And if you see God in each other, if we have the joy of seeing God in each other, we will love one another. That’s why no color, no religion, no nationality should come between us. For we are all the same children of the same loving hand of God, created for greater things: to love and to be loved. Only we must experience that joy of loving. How do we experience the joy of loving? How do we experience that? By giving until it hurts.

When I was going to Ethiopia, little children came to me. They heard I was going there. And they came. They had come to know from the sisters how much the children are suffering in Ethiopia. And they came and each one gave something, very, very small money. And some, whatever they had, they gave. And a little boy came to me and said “I have nothing, I have no money, I have nothing. But I have this piece of chocolate. And you give that, take that with you and you give it to the children in Ethiopia.” That little child loved with great love, because I think that was the first time that he had a piece of chocolate in his hand. And he gave it. He gave it with joy to be able to share, to remove a little the suffering of someone in far Ethiopia. This is the joy of loving: to give until it hurts. It hurt Jesus to love us, for he died on the cross, to teach us how to love. And this is the way we too must love: until it hurts.

Reading: Mark 14
“Sweet Perfume” by Penelope Goode

Mark 14 tells several stories.

There is the account of Jesus, wracked with sorrow, praying in the garden while His friends are meant to be keeping watch. Three times, they fall short and He finds them sleeping.
Next, the story of Peter, who, having been identified as a disciple after Jesus’ arrest, denies knowing Him. As Jesus prophesied during Passover, this happens not once, but three times.
The most harrowing tale is that of Judas’ betrayal: one of the twelve nearest to Jesus gave Him up for personal gain.

Juxtaposed against these stories, however, is the beautiful act of the woman (known from other Gospel accounts to be Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus) anointing Jesus with sweet perfume, despite protestations of the disciples. It was expensive – an exotic oil from India in a fine alabaster jar, which she broke and poured out over her Lord. She alone, of all the friends around Jesus in this time so near to His death, gives Him something precious without being asked. Seeing a service she could perform, and, seemingly knowing that His time among them was limited, blesses Him with this selfless act.

Father, during this season in which we focus on Jesus’ sacrifice, may we be like this woman, who gave without regard for herself, focused as she was so intently on the One who was giving everything for all of us. May we not sleep or betray, but give to Him that which is precious.