Son of God?

Son of God?

Experiencing Resurrection: Part 1
April 12, 2026

Matthew 27:62-28:15

When the centurion, who stood facing Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “This man was certainly God’s Son.”

 Mark 15:39

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"Even in Israel I haven't found faith like this."

That's what Jesus told the crowds the day he healed a centurion's servant. But the centurion never wanted to be a model of faith (Luke 7:1-10).  He had no interest in Jesus' religion. If anything, what he did that day was a last-ditch hope, an act of sheer desperation. He wasn't interested in the God of Abraham. He just thought if this teacher they called Jesus could heal others, maybe he might just have a little miracle left over for him and his servant.

And yet. Jesus called it faith.

We don’t know if this was the same centurion we see at the cross but imagine for a moment that it was.  He finds himself passing down the order to crucify that same teacher.  
Seeing Jesus carry the cross beam up the hill stops him in his tracks. He feels a knot growing in his stomach. He had never questioned an order before in his life, but this one just didn't feel right.

He couldn't explain what happened next. The tomb was empty. Dead men don't walk again. So he went along with the cover story. After all, the winners always write history. Surely this would all be forgotten in a few years.

Still, he wondered.

What if this man was the Son of God?

He had pledged his allegiance to Caesar, the one his world called Son of God, savior, prince of peace. But that man, that rabbi, died with more dignity than Caesar had ever shown. Jesus faced the weight of the entire Roman military, unarmed and unafraid. He never resisted his fate, no matter how undeserved. Jesus died like a king. Not the kind of king Rome would ever recognize, but maybe the kind of king we still need today.

We are never told if the centurion becomes a follower of Jesus, but I can imagine him whispering Jesus’ name in the darkness, shaken by all he has seen.  His question lingers for all of us: what would it cost to tell the truth about what we've seen? And what loyalties, comforts, or fears keep us from saying it out loud?

Sometimes our dreams are too small. Like the centurion, it's easy to stay focused only on what's right in front of us.  We tend to live in problem-solving mode, survival mode, just doing our jobs.

We don't serve others so that our church will grow, or so that God will bless us. We serve because that's who we are as followers of Christ. We love because God first loved us.

The centurion didn't know it yet, but he had already encountered the kind of king worth giving everything for and the kind of friend who would give his life for him.

Maybe we have too.

• Where do you notice competing loyalties in your own life, whether to systems, expectations, or identities, that make it harder to follow Jesus?

• Reflect on an experience you could not explain but also could not ignore that shifted how you see God.

Resurrection for All

Resurrection for All

Easter Sunday
April 5, 2026

1 Corinthians 15:12-58, Colossians 1:18, Revelation 1:5

He is the head of the body, the church, who is the beginning, the one who is firstborn from among the dead so that he might occupy the first place in everything.

 ~ Colossians 1:18

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We often think of resurrection as a one-time historical event in the life of Jesus. We believe that through the mystery of his death and resurrection we will somehow be welcomed into eternal life. But this individual hope is much smaller than the hope the earliest followers of Jesus carried.

For many first-century Jews who believed in resurrection, it was never imagined as an individual event. Resurrection was communal. It was the hope that God would one day raise all people and finally bring justice to the world. The question was not simply what would happen to one faithful person after death, but whether God’s justice would ultimately prevail for everyone who had suffered under oppression and injustice.

When the apostle Paul proclaimed that Jesus had been raised, some asked, “How can there be resurrection if the dead have not yet been raised?” Paul responded that Christ is the first fruits of those who have died (1 Corinthians 15).    

In other words, Easter is not the end of the story, it is the beginning. Jesus is the firstborn from the dead, the first sign that God’s promised future has already begun to break into the present.

The resurrection is not simply a reward for Jesus’ faithfulness. It is God’s vindication of his life and his way of love.  Resurrection is God’s “yes” to Jesus and God’s “no” to the powers that executed him. Easter reveals something essential about God: the forces of domination, violence, and fear do not have the final word.

Because of this, resurrection is not only something we believe about the past. It reshapes how we live now.

If Easter is God’s “yes” to the way Jesus lived, then those who follow him must learn to live in that same light, refusing the systems of fear and power that once led to his execution.

Resurrection is not only something that happened to Jesus a long time ago.  As Rev. Dr. Mark Sandlin puts it:

Resurrection is what happens every time love refuses to stay buried, every time hope rises up out of places everyone else has given up on, every time a community comes back together after being torn apart, every time justice gets back on its feet after being knocked down again.

Look at the world. Everywhere there’s pain, there’s also someone showing up with compassion. Everywhere there’s despair, there’s someone planting seeds anyway. That’s resurrection! That’s new life breaking through the cracks.

Resurrection isn’t magic. It’s movement. It’s love getting up again and again…

If you want to experience resurrection, you just have to pay attention to the ways love keeps choosing to rise right in front of you.

 Where do you see signs of resurrection breaking through — in your life, in your community, or in the world — and how might God be inviting you to join in that rising love?

Filled to Overflowing

Filled to Overflowing

Thirst: Part 6
March 29, 2026

John 4:27-42

The woman put down her water jar and went into the city. She said to the people, 'Come and see a man who has told me everything I’ve done! Could this man be the Christ?' They left the city and were on their way to see Jesus.

 ~ John 4:28-30

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Good News is contagious.  Once we really get it, we can't keep it to ourselves.

Imagine you were cured of cancer by an amazing doctor with a brand-new experimental treatment.  Wouldn't you be telling all your friends with cancer about it, hoping that this doctor could help them too? 

"If our faith is real, if being a Christian makes a deep difference in our own lives, it matters that we be able to talk about that with the people we care about and the people that Christ cares about” (Martha Grace Reese, Unbinding the Gospel, 13).

Many of us as Christians are more likely to invite someone to our new favorite restaurant than we are to invite someone to church, and we are far more likely to introduce someone to our best friend or even to our favorite TV series than we are to introduce them to Jesus. 

For the woman at the well, Jesus was likely one of the first people who ever truly loved and accepted her for who she was, flaws and all.  He knew her better than anybody and yet he didn't judge.  He was a Jew and she was a Samaritan, but that didn't stop him from reaching across the lines.  He was clean and she was unclean, but he wasn't afraid of getting dirty.  Nobody else in her life had ever loved her that much.  Her excitement is overwhelming, and it is contagious.

The people probably think she's crazy.  They know her.  They know her past.  They know she's got no reason to be so joyful.  But they can't help but wonder what has changed inside her, and so they come to meet Jesus for themselves. 

She has no idea how the people will respond, but it doesn't matter.  She's not even certain if Jesus is really the Christ, the Savior, at all?  She's not clear on her beliefs.  She has no religious answers and little to know biblical knowledge.  I'm not even certain we can say that she "got saved," in the way we often think about salvation... at least not yet.  But her encounter with Christ impacted her so much she could not keep it to herself. 

Before we met Jesus personally, each and every one of us saw Jesus alive in someone else.

Who needs to see Jesus alive in you, so that they will come and see the one who knows them and loves them too?

It's Not About the Plumbing

It's Not About the Plumbing

Thirst: Part 5
March 22, 2026

John 4:21-26

The woman said, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you and your people say that it is necessary to worship in Jerusalem.”

  ~ John 4:19-20

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We've all heard it said, "Don't talk about religion or politics in polite company."  On one hand, this kind of social etiquette has resulted in the inability to have rational dialogue and healthy disagreement about anything of great importance.  Simply look at the comment section of any online article or social media post about a religious or political topic and you'll see what I mean.

On the other hand, these topics can easily be used as a distraction from the real issue at hand.  If we don't like something a person is saying, all we have to do is find something about their political views or religious beliefs that we don't agree with, and immediately we are able to brush off anything they say as irrelevant.  When teaching on Jesus' command to love and forgive our enemies, for example, I have been told on more than one occasion that I only believe that stuff because I'm a "liberal."  That assumption has then been used to accuse me of believing many other things which I don't support. 

Many Christians avoid sharing their faith because they fear the response someone might give if they start talking about "religion".  But in his conversation with the woman, Jesus didn't bring up religion at all.  He talked about water and about her family, but not once did he mention church or sin or heaven or hell or any of those other topics we are so uncomfortable bringing up.

It is the woman who brings up both religion and politics, and particularly the hot-button issues that most strongly divided the Jews and the Samaritans.  I'm not convinced she brings it up as a serious inquiry.  She may genuinely have a religious question about the appropriate place to worship, but in this context, it feels more like a distraction.

She doesn't want to talk about her life.  The conversation has gotten too personal.  Solution... let's talk about something else, and not just anything else, but something that will surely offend this Jewish rabbi so much that maybe, just maybe, he'll leave me alone.  Better to get him arguing about where to worship than to let him see me cry over my miserable life.

I have been in more than my share of conversations where a person threw out every theological dilemma they could think of, from the problem of evil to evolution to the hypocrisy of Christians to the beliefs of other religions, etc., just to make it clear why they would never come to church.  The more I can provide "satisfactory scholarly answers," the more irritated they get, until they finally run out of excuses and quickly end the conversation.

They were never really looking for answers.  They just didn't want to talk about the deeper issues.

What if we were more concerned with the heart and soul of a person than about defending our beliefs?

What if we focused less on where people should worship and more on the presence of God already there in our midst?

What if the Spirit of Truth was already speaking into our conversations, just waiting to be heard?

Come Out of Hiding

Come Out of Hiding

Thirst: Part 4
March 15, 2026

John 4:16-20

"Jesus said to her, 'Go, get your husband, and come back here.'

The woman replied, 'I don’t have a husband.'

'You are right to say, ‘I don’t have a husband,'' Jesus answered. 'You’ve had five husbands, and the man you are with now isn’t your husband. You’ve spoken the truth.'" 

~ John 4:16-18

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For this week’s reflection, take some time to listen to hear the Samaritan woman’s story afresh through the spoken word video below.

To be known is to be loved;

And to be loved is to be known.

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What does this simple truth look like in your life?

Living Water

Living Water

Thirst: Part 3
March 8, 2026

John 4:11-15, Isaiah 55:1-3

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks from the water that I will give will never be thirsty again. The water that I give will become in those who drink it a spring of water that bubbles up into eternal life.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will never be thirsty and will never need to come here to draw water!”

~ John 4:13-15

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We all get thirsty. We all need water. But in our consumerist culture, we have developed a thirst for many forms of “water” to quench our desires and satisfy our souls.

The woman at the well still sees only what is in front of her, a bucket, a deep well, and a weary traveler with nothing to draw with. “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?” she asks. She cannot yet imagine water that does not come from Jacob’s well, water that becomes “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” So she asks for it, not because she understands it, but because she is tired of coming back day after day. “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

The woman may not have known who Jesus was or what he could give, but we know all too well, or at least we think we do. And we are more than willing to ask for “water” from the master.

We are quick to pray for health, for security, for comfort, and for more of just about anything we can imagine for ourselves or our loved ones. “Ask anything in my name,” Jesus promises, and so we ask. But his name can become little more than a set of magic words to make our every wish come true, much like the whiny “please” of a child that comes only as an afterthought when their initial demand does not produce the result they wanted.

Like the woman who is just beginning to realize the power of Jesus’ offer, we want a quick fix for all of our problems. We do not want to have to keep coming back to the well every time we get thirsty. We would rather bypass the deeper work and simply eliminate the inconvenience. But the prophet Jeremiah names our condition plainly. “My people have committed two evils,” God says. “They have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13). We trade the spring for storage tanks. We settle for what we can control, even when it leaks.

Jesus is not so quick to grant the woman’s desire, even though he is the one who offered the living water in the first place. For him, it is not just about helping her avoid the daily toils of life, such as coming to the well. Jesus wants so much more for her than she could possibly ask or imagine. He wants not simply to quench her thirst for a moment, but to become in her a source that never runs dry.

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are halfhearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

~ C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

Give Me a Drink

Give Me a Drink

Thirst: Part 2
March 1, 2026

John 4:7-10

 The Samaritan woman asked, “Why do you, a Jewish man, ask for something to drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” (Jews and Samaritans didn’t associate with each other.)

 John 4:9

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We all have those times when God seems distant.  We feel like our prayers are empty and our works of piety are in vain.  We realize that we are empty, that we are nothing, and we would not be surprised in the least if God gave up on us. 

But what if the problem is not that God is too distant, but too close... in fact, way too close for comfort?

By every religious and social custom of his day, Jesus clearly should not have been talking with this woman at a public well in Samaria.  She had three strikes against her that would keep any righteous man far away... she was a Samaritan, she was a woman, and she had a shameful history, even if it was not entirely of her own making. 

Some have speculated that she did not come to the well during normal cooler hours because she didn't want to face the gossip the other women in town must have been speaking about her as they drew water for their "proper" families.

It's interesting how she is so blatantly aware of Jesus' impropriety in asking her for water, and yet Jesus seems entirely unconcerned with her status as a Samaritan or a woman with a past.  Jesus is not worried about being made unclean.  He is not concerned about what others might think.  And he's not even coming with some ulterior motive to convert her to his religious beliefs.

Jesus is simply tired and wants a drink of water.  Period.

I wonder how many times Jesus has come to us, to ask us for a drink or even just to sit down and enjoy a casual conversation, and we responded by pulling away because we knew deep down that we were unworthy of his company. 

What if Jesus wanted to come to us in the form of a homeless person, or an irritating co-worker, or a family member who has hurt us deeply, or a child who won't sit still and be quiet for five minutes.  The faces of Jesus are everywhere, for he says that whenever we care for the "least of these," we have provided for him. 

We don't always recognize his presence, but we can sense the uncomfortable holiness of each encounter stirring deep in our souls, or maybe in the pit of our stomachs, and we want to retreat. 

We know that God already knows us better than we know ourselves, but somehow, we still want to pretend we can keep the worst parts of ourselves a secret.  We're afraid of being exposed.  We like to pretend we're OK, but next to Jesus, we know we are not. 

And if we're truly honest, there are just certain places we don't want to be seen walking around with Jesus.

Just like the woman at the well, we are far more uncomfortable around Jesus' holiness than Jesus is around our sin.

• What is one place in your ordinary routine that Jesus might show up unexpectedly if you were open to it? 

• How would you respond?

The Road Less Traveled

The Road Less Traveled

Thirst: Part 1
February 22, 2026

John 4:1-6

Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was making more disciples and baptizing more than John (although Jesus’ disciples were baptizing, not Jesus himself). Therefore, he left Judea and went back to Galilee.

Jesus had to go through Samaria. He came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, which was near the land Jacob had given to his son Joseph.  Jacob’s well was there. Jesus was tired from his journey, so he sat down at the well. It was about noon.

   ~ John 4:1-6

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A typical journey from Judea to Galilee took about five to seven days, usually crossing the Jordan River twice.  Going straight through Samaria could cut off two or three days, but most people chose the longer road to avoid contact with Samaritans.

John says that Jesus “had” to go through Samaria, as if there was no other option.  But clearly there was.  Jesus does not appear to be in a hurry to get to Galilee.  There is no reason given why he wouldn’t take the safer, more familiar route.

What we do see, however, is an encounter with a Samaritan woman that changes everything.  What if Jesus “had” to go through Samaria simply to meet her, and by extension all who have been dismissed and avoided. 

There was a long-standing animosity toward Samaria dating all the way back to Assyrian exile and the later construction of a Samaritan temple on Mt. Gerizim. Though once part of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, those now living and worshipping in this region were no longer accepted among God’s chosen people.

Yet Jesus walked intentionally into that place, among those people.  He traveled with a determined and resolute mind to break down barriers of hatred and cultural, ethnic, racial and conventional prejudice.  In doing so, he built a bridge of forgiveness, reconciliation, peace, love and hope. 

So, what does this mean for us?  Why pause here with this tiny geographical footnote at the beginning of a much bigger story?

Our Lenten journey this year will take us on the road less traveled, a slow and intentional stroll through Samaria.  We will linger at the well longer than may feel comfortable.    Sometimes we’ll want to pick up the pace and move on.  Other times we may wish we had gone around it altogether.  But the very fact that Jesus slows down to spend time in Samaria invites us to pause there too, to sit in the heat of the day with someone others would barely acknowledge.

Jesus shows up in unexpected places and meets us right where we are, even if we are far from where we typically expect to encounter God.  Samaria is not just a region on a map.  It is the place we live.  The well is where we carry out our ordinary, daily tasks, and the place Jesus wants to sit down for an extended conversation.

here is so much more we can say about this story, and we will throughout the season, but for now, it’s enough to sit with the fact that Jesus is slowly walking through your neighborhood.  Tired.  Thirsty.  Unhurried.  Not always entirely welcome.  Still, he had to come this way.

Where will you meet him along the road? 

In the words of Carry Newcomer, perhaps it’s “time to take more time and cover less ground.”

An invitation to slow down this Lent and savor the journey…

Seeing Again

Seeing Again

Signs & Wonders: Part 4
February 8, 2026

Mark 8:22-26

Jesus and his disciples came to Bethsaida. Some people brought a blind man to Jesus and begged him to touch and heal him.  Taking the blind man’s hand, Jesus led him out of the village. After spitting on his eyes and laying his hands on the man, he asked him, “Do you see anything?”

The man looked up and said, “I see people. They look like trees, only they are walking around.”

Then Jesus placed his hands on the man’s eyes again. He looked with his eyes wide open, his sight was restored, and he could see everything clearly.  Then Jesus sent him home, saying, “Don’t go into the village!”

~ Mark 8:22-26

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Last week we saw Jesus heal a woman who touched only the hem of his robe and raise a young girl from the dead with a single word.  So why, in today’s story, does he seem to be struggling with the simple act of giving sight to the blind?  After all, this is exactly what he said he came for: to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed (Luke 4:18).

Yet when the blind man begins to see, his vision is still not clear.  He sees people, but they look like trees.  Some wonder whether Jesus failed or whether this man lacked the faith needed to experience full healing.  Others see it as a metaphor for the spiritual life and the ways that our eyes are slowly opened to God’s work in our lives.

The spiritual explanation certainly feels more reasonable, especially as this passage is sandwiched between the disciple’s lack of understanding about the yeast of the Pharisees and Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah followed immediately by a significant misunderstanding about what this truth actually implied. 

But if we’re willing to take a honest look at ourselves, the truth may be even more practical.  We live in a world where seeing clearly is increasingly difficult.  Images and videos are easily faked or manipulated to present us with an alternate version of reality, to effectually make us see certain people as something less than human – to see trees instead of people.  Much of this artificially generated propaganda is designed with the purpose of dehumanizing others, making them easier to dismiss, to control, or to fear.

The problem is that so many of us stop there.  We take in the image of these “tree people” and assume this is just the way things are, especially if the image reinforces how we already see the world.  Taking a second look might be as simple as flipping to a different channel or seeing another camera angle, but we don’t dare consider this option for fear of being alienated from our tribe who sees things the same way we have been taught to see them.  It is unsettling when the reality we see does not align with the reality we are taught to accept.

Perhaps this story is less about Jesus’ power to heal and more about our willingness to stay engaged with Jesus long enough to receive a second touch, and to take a second look and what once seemed so clear.

What is one way this week you can open yourself to a second healing, to look more carefully and ask God for clearer sight?

The Importance of Marginalized Bodies

The Importance of Marginalized Bodies

Signs & Wonders: Part 3
February 9, 2026

Matthew 9:18-26

While Jesus was speaking to them, a ruler came and knelt in front of him, saying, “My daughter has just died. But come and place your hand on her, and she’ll live.”  So, Jesus and his disciples got up and went with him.  Then a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years came up behind Jesus and touched the hem of his clothes.  She thought, If I only touch his robe I’ll be healed.

When Jesus turned and saw her, he said, “Be encouraged, daughter. Your faith has healed you.” And the woman was healed from that time on.

~ Matthew 9:18-22

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Other gospel accounts offer parallel versions of this story and layers of detail about the people involved.  Matthew, however, keeps it simple.  Jesus is asked to come and offer his healing touch in a place of death, and along the way, another woman was healed when she reaches out in faith to touch his robe. 

Sometimes that simplicity itself has something to teach us.

We can talk for hours about the mechanics of what happened, from ritual purity to social boundaries to delays and timing, or even how Jesus noticed a single touch in the middle of a crowd.  Luke tells us the girl actually dies while Jesus is delayed, raising questions about whether he stopped too long or whether it was already too late, as the messengers believed.

But Matthew doesn’t linger there.  And maybe that’s just as well.  Because the more we try to explain a miracle, the less miraculous it becomes.  The more we try to justify Jesus’ actions or the worthiness of those he heals, the more we miss what actually matters.

Jesus is not out healing people that day.  When the ruler and the woman come to him, he has just called a tax collector to be one of his disciples and is now explaining how God is doing something new, something that requires a different way of seeing.

Rather than giving us details about these healings,Matthew simply tells us that two individuals bring their need to Jesus and he responds with compassion.  That’s it.

A dead girl.

A desperate woman beyond help that medicine could offer.

Two people everyone else had given up on.  One dead.  One might as well have been.  There was simply nothing left to be done.

But the girl’s father doesn’t give up.  And neither does the woman.  They bring their need to Jesus even when no one else would listen.  And without hesitation, Jesus responds.

It makes me wonder who we might assume is beyond help.  What voices have we stopped listening too.  Or are there perhaps times we ourselves feel so far beyond help that we don’t even bother asking anymore.

Jesus sees. 

Jesus hears. 

Jesus responds. 

And perhaps he’s calling us to do the same.

• Who have we decided is beyond help or outside our concern?

• Where have you stopped asking because you feel it’s too late?