Discipling Life

Sometimes the most powerful acts of faith happen quietly, away from the crowds. They don’t come with fanfare or applause. They come in moments of risk, when love outweighs fear, and grace nudges someone to step forward. That’s what we see in Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. After Jesus died, Matthew tells us that “there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus” (Matthew 27:57). He went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. John’s Gospel adds that Nicodemus came too, bringing “a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds” (John 19:39). Together, they wrapped Jesus’ body and laid him in a tomb. These two men had been quiet followers. Joseph was a member of the council. Nicodemus had come to Jesus by night. They had influence, wealth, and status. But in this moment, they risked it all to honor Christ. Their actions were not loud, but they were full of love. They didn’t preach a sermon or perform a miracle. They simply showed up w...

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:25b-30, NRSVue) There are moments in life when words fail us, when all we can do is stand, watch, and weep. Good Friday is one of those moments. The scene at the cross is not polished or comfortable; it is raw, aching, and holy. Yet even here, amid the nois...

We remember the night Jesus gathered his closest friends in an upper room. Around a shared table, amidst the weight of what was coming, he took bread. Matthew tells us: “While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’” (Matthew 26:26-28, NRSVue). The room was full of Passover memories—stories of deliverance, promises of God’s faithfulness, reminders that God never gives up on his people. Yet Jesus takes this holy meal and gently reshapes it around himself. He offers bread and cup as signs of a new covenant, a new Exodus, a new way of life shaped by self-giving love. In this simple act of breaking bread and sharing the cup, Jesus poured out the deepest meaning of his life and impending sa...

Jesus visits the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. It is a simple gathering of friends, but something extraordinary happens. Mary kneels at Jesus’ feet, breaks open a jar of costly perfume, and pours it out in an act of deep devotion. The fragrance fills the whole house. It is a moment of love that is both beautiful and costly. [See texts: John 12:1-8; Matthew 26:6–13 ] Her act is nothing short of extravagant. She pours out her most valuable possession as a gesture of love, gratitude, and devotion. In this single act, she gives not just her perfume, but her heart. Judas, on the other hand, sees only cost and his own self-interest. He cloaks greed with words of charity. His concern for money outweighs his love for Jesus. Judas complains that the perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor. The Gospel tells us that his concern was not genuine—his heart was shaped more by greed than compassion. Here we see two very different responses to Jesus: Mary’s generous love...

It is the Tuesday of Holy Week, and Jesus has returned to the temple in Jerusalem.  Just the day before, he turned over the tables of the money changers. Now, the chief priests and elders are waiting for him. “By what authority are you doing these things,” they demand, “and who gave you this authority?” (Matthew 21:23). They are not asking because they want to learn. They are asking because they want to trap him, to discredit him, to silence him. And Jesus — with the kind of calm that only comes from knowing exactly who you are — turns the question back on them. [Today’s text – Matthew 21:23–27; 23:1–12 ] What we see here is a reckoning. Jesus sparred with the Pharisees, the elders, and the scribes — and in each exchange he revealed something about the nature of true spiritual authority. Authority, he showed them, doesn’t come from titles or positions or public performances of piety. It comes from alignment with God, from a life lived in genuine love and truth. Then Jesus say...

Let us pray. God of grace, we ask that you quiet the noise within us today. Steal our wandering thoughts, our anxious hearts, and our busy minds, allowing this moment to belong wholly to you. May the words spoken be your words and may the hearts that hear them be softened by your Spirit. Let the message of this Palm and Passion Sunday shape us into a people formed more fully by the mind of Christ. Amen. Date:  March 29, 2026 (Palm/Passion Sunday)  Speaker:  Alan Swartz  Scripture Focus:   Philippians 2:5-11, Matthew 27:11-54 | Audio Recording We begin this way because we recognize that spiritual stillness is a prerequisite for hearing the divine word. We must quiet the noise because, without this deliberate pause, the message of the cross is easily lost in the static of our daily anxieties. By entering into this quiet, we move beyond the mere historical mechanics of how Jesus died. We stop looking at the Roman nails and the political maneuvering and begin to ...

Have you ever walked into a space that was supposed to feel welcoming — a waiting room, a church foyer, a neighbor’s home — and instead felt invisible? Maybe the room was full of activity, but none of it seemed meant for you. You stood at the edge, unsure whether you belonged. That feeling of being crowded out, overlooked, or quietly excluded is more common than we like to admit. And it turns out, it’s not a new problem. [See  Mark 11:12-24; Matthew 21:12-22 ] On the Monday after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Jesus returned to the Temple — the holiest place in Jewish life, the dwelling place of God’s name and presence. What he found there should have been a house of prayer. Instead, it had become something else entirely. What Jesus Found — and What He Did Mark 11:15–17 (NRSVue) tells us: “Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the mone...

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred. Crowds spread their cloaks on the road. Children shouted. People waved branches and cried out: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” (v. 21:9) [Today's text -  Matthew 21:1-11, 27:20-23 ] Matthew tells us that after Jesus entered the city, people asked a simple but life‑changing question: “Who is this?” (v. 21:10) They saw a healer, a miracle worker, and someone they hoped would fix all their earthly problems right then and there. Their “Hosanna”—which means “Save us!”—was full of hope. During Holy Week, that question still echoes. Who is this Jesus we follow? On Palm Sunday, the people celebrated the kind of Messiah they wanted: one who would save them from Roman rule. But when Jesus didn’t fit their expectations, they turned against him. Their “hosannas” were loud, but their understanding was shallow. Later, we find Jesus standing before the governor, Pilate. The r...

Psalm 90 is a prayer that holds together two truths we often keep apart: God is eternal, and our lives are short. “For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past” (v. 4), yet our days “are soon gone, and we fly away” (v. 10). In Lent, this psalm invites us to face our limits honestly—not to frighten us, but to lead us into wisdom. It names the reality of sin and the weight of time. And yet, it also offers hope—a plea for wisdom, mercy, and the beauty of God’s favor resting on our lives. The psalm begins with an affirmation: “Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations” (v. 1). Before anything else existed, God was. That means we are never alone. Even when life feels uncertain or fleeting, God remains our home. Moses, the identified author of this psalm, doesn’t shy away from hard truths. He speaks of human frailty: “You turn us back to dust… our years come to an end like a sigh” (vv. 3, 9). He names the consequences of sin and the reality o...

Paul’s Letter to the Romans is a favorite of many. It was instrumental in the lives of Augustine of Hippo, Martin Luther, and John Wesley, just to mention a few. The 8th chapter is often referred to as influential to people who love the letter. In fact, N. T. Wright has written an entire book on this one chapter titled, Into the Heart of Romans: A Deep Dive into Paul’s Greatest Letter .   The letter continues to be a strong influence in the church. Readings from Romans appear more than 30 times during our three-year lectionary cycle. A powerful passage sits at the heart of Paul’s letter to the Romans . As we examine our lives and follow Christ toward the cross, these verses are a balm and a summons. Paul pushes us to face the hard facts of life—suffering, loss, fear—and then to stand firm in the truth that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. First , there is God’s gift and assurance to us. Paul begins with a simple but life-changing question: If God ...

In the quiet of the Garden of Gethsemane, the night air was suddenly torn by the noise of a crowd. They came with swords and clubs, led by one of Jesus’ own friends. This moment, described in Matthew 26:47-56 , is one of the most painful in the story of our faith. It’s a scene of betrayal and confusion. It is a stunning revelation of God’s character. As the armed crowd approaches, one of Jesus’ companions reaches for his sword, striking out in defense. It’s a natural human reaction. When we are threatened, our first instinct is often to fight back, to meet violence with violence, to protect what is ours. But Jesus stops it immediately. He says, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword. Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen in this way?” (vv. 52-54). Here, Jesus shows us a different kind...

In Matthew 27:15-23 , we see a strange and unsettling custom. To celebrate the festival, the governor would release one prisoner chosen by the crowd. Pilate gives them a choice that seems obvious on the surface. On one hand, there is Jesus Barabbas , a “notorious prisoner.” On the other, there is Jesus, the one called the Messiah , who had spent his days healing the sick and preaching about the kingdom of God. Now, let me make a note about the names. Barabbas (or Bar Abbas ) means son of the father. So, on the one hand you have Jesus, son of the father, and on the other hand you have Jesus, Son of the Father.  So, which ‘hand’ do you choose? Which Jesus do you choose? It is a heartbreaking moment. The crowd, stirred up by leaders who felt threatened by love and mercy, chose the way of violence over the way of peace. They shouted for Barabbas to be set free and for Jesus to be crucified.  This act represents a rejection of Jesus’s peaceful message in favor of a figure w...