Discipling Life

This week we have been looking at the scripture texts assigned by the lectionary for this Sunday — the Fifth Sunday of Lent. Ezekiel 37:1–14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6–11; John 11:1–45 Each of these scriptures points us to the heart of God’s promise: death does not have the final word . Lent leads us through times of emptiness, confession, and longing, but always with the whisper of resurrection waiting ahead. In Ezekiel’s vision, God brings the prophet to a valley full of dry bones. It is a place that once held life but now lies silent and bare. God asks, “Can these bones live?” Only God knows the answer. Then the breath of God moves through the valley, and the bones rattle together, rise, and live again. The Spirit brings life where there was only death. The breath of God brings renewal. What seemed hopeless is restored. Psalm 130 echoes that same cry—from the depths of despair, the psalmist waits for God’s mercy. “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.” Even...

During Lent we often focus on the journey toward the cross. It is a time of reflection, repentance, and walking through the darkness of sorrow. However, the story of Jesus and his friend Lazarus reminds us that this journey does not end in death; it leads directly to the bright hope of resurrection . When Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead for four days. Martha met Jesus with a cry of honest grief that many of us recognize: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” It is a prayer born from heartbreak—the wish that God had come sooner or that the pain could have been avoided. Jesus did not offer Martha empty words of comfort or some abstract theological lesson. Instead, he met her exactly where she was and pointed her toward a truth greater than her circumstances. He invited her to trust not just in what he could do, but in who he is . Jesus made a astonishing declaration: “I am the resurrection and the life.” This is a profound shift in ...

In the middle of one of the most powerful miracles in the Gospel of John , we find two simple words: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). It is often known as the shortest verse in the Bible, yet it carries a profound truth about the nature of God. Before Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead or calls him out of the tomb, he stands beside his grieving friends and lets his own tears fall. When Jesus arrived in Bethany, his friend Lazarus had already been dead for four days. Martha and Mary were heartbroken, and the crowd was grieving. Even though Jesus knew he was about to bring Lazarus back to life—knowing the ending would be one of joy—he still stopped to weep. He wept because he loved Lazarus, because he saw the pain of those he cared for, and because he recognized that death is real and grief is heavy. These two words tell us something essential: God is not distant or unmoved by our suffering . In Christ, God feels what we feel, knowing the ache of loss and the heaviness of sorrow. The hu...

Not sure about you, but I seem to automatically switch to more of a forensic mindset when I turn to Paul’s writings – especially the Letter to the Romans. I see Paul as a more literal minded writer. Jesus told parables. Paul makes arguments. But Paul also paints his arguments with metaphors. So, what I want to do today is to step back and take in the big picture that Paul paints for us in today’s text. Romans 8:6-11 (NRSVue): “To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For this reason the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law — indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised...

On the afternoon of May 24, 1738, John Wesley attended a vespers service at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. During the service, he was deeply moved by the singing of an anthem drawn from Psalm 130 — the De Profundis (Latin for “Out of the Depths”)— which opens with the cry, “Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord.” At the time, Wesley was in the midst of a profound spiritual crisis. He felt weighed down by a sense of sin and was tormented by his inability to earn salvation through his own efforts. The themes of Psalm 130 — a desperate cry from the depths of despair, followed by an assurance of God’s mercy and “plenteous redemption” — mirrored his inner struggle so closely that the anthem struck him with unusual force. Here was a Psalmist who had cried out from the same darkness Wesley felt, and who found hope not in human merit, but in the grace of God alone. That evening, Wesley attended a meeting on Aldersgate Street, where someone was reading aloud from Martin Luther’s...

Where are you in your daily walk with God? Some people still feel lost or disoriented after COVID. Things in their home church may seem so unfamiliar that it is almost a different church than the one they called home. All the divisiveness in our society and congregations have only added to the feeling of ennui many of us have experienced. That brings us to today’s text: Ezekiel 37:1-14 Many churches today know what Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones feels like. After COVID closures, some congregations returned to sanctuaries that felt emptier than before. Pews that once held familiar faces now hold silence. Programs that once brought energy now feel harder to sustain. It is easy to look around and quietly echo the words of Israel: “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely” (v. 11). Ezekiel is taken by God into a valley filled with bones—scattered, brittle, long forgotten. God asks him, “Mortal, can these bones live?” (v. 3). Ezekiel doesn’t pretend t...