Perhaps best known for penning the hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” Phillips Brooks (1835-1893) was a celebrated 19th-century Episcopal preacher and bishop in Massachusetts. He published a famous book entitled Lectures on Preaching, in which he exhorted ministers to combine the two great essentials in preaching: truth and personality, which he called character. A chief feature of character is courage, essential to the preaching task.

There is another source of power which I can hardly think of as a separate quality, but rather as the sum and result of all the qualities which I have been naming. I mean Courage. It is the indispensable requisite of any true ministry. The timid minister is as bad as the timid surgeon. Courage is good everywhere, but it is necessary here. If you are afraid of men and a slave to their opinion, go and do something else. Go and make shoes to fit them. Go even and paint pictures which you know are bad but which suit their bad taste. But do not keep on all your life preaching sermons which shall say not what God sent you to declare, but what they hire you to say. Be courageous. Be independent.¹

Footnotes:

¹ Philips Brooks, Lectures on Preaching (New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., 1877), 59.

That Pope Francis has a strong Marian devotion became immediately clear after his election. In his first speech as Pope he committed himself and the world to Mary. The following day his first visit outside of the Vatican walls was to the basilica of St Mary Major where he prayed to Mary. In his homilies he has at times disseminated his Marian piety. Now that the liturgical Marian month (May) has begun, the Pope has further expressed his devotion. On May 3^rd he lead the rosary in the same Marian basilica he visited after being elected and gave a public speech to the people that had gathered there.

Mary, Salus Populi Romani

This particular basilica is known for hosting and displaying the icon of Mary who is called Salus Populi Romani (i.e. salvation of the Roman people). This is a Marian title that underlines her being the protector of the Roman people. In front of the icon, Pope Francis commented: “We are all here in front of Mary; we prayed for her motherly guidance; we took her our joys and sorrows, our hopes and difficulties; we invoked her with the title Salus Populi Romani to ask for ourselves, for Rome and for the world the gift of health. Yes, she gives health, she is our health”.

In expounding his teaching, Francis went on to talk about three ways in which Mary is our health: She helps us grow as men and women, just as a mother cares for her children; She helps us face our difficulties, just as a mother walks with her children; Lastly she helps us make right decisions in life, just as a mother wants her children to live responsibly.

Outside of Roman Catholic piety, it is difficult to understand such a profound “motherly” language of devotion to Mary and to square it with a Christ-centered and a Bible-based faith which unequivocally points to Jesus Christ as the only Mediator between God and man. Biblically, these roles relate to the Christological offices of Jesus as Priest and King. Yet Roman Catholicism attributes them to Mary as an extension of Christ’s role as mediator. Out of its synergism the Roman Catholic faith allows, indeed demands, such a veneration of Mary which has theological, spiritual, and emotional dimensions. Mary is seen as the protector of life.

Papal Marianisms

In closing his speech, Pope Francis addressed the crowd by saying: “Thank you for your presence here in the house of the mother of Rome, our Mother. Hurrah to the Salus Populi Romani. Hurrah to Madonna. She is our Mother. Let us entrust ourselves to her because she cares for us like a good mother”. This time the devotional language matched that of sports enthusiasts: Hurrah, hurrah! The magnitude of Mary’s motherly role stirred the heart and soul of many people gathered there.

Pope Francis has stressed the fact that he wants to emphasize his role as bishop of Rome and has begun to give this emphasis a distinct Marian flavor. We can now begin to see the trajectory of this present pontificate as far as his Marianism is concerned. The last pope to share such a high view of Mary was John Paul II. His motto was “totus tuus” (i.e. totally yours), and his veneration of Marian icons and his practice of Marian devotions were very evident. Benedict XVI has been portrayed as a less Marian Pope, although he has always prayed to Mary on a daily basis and has included many Marian elements in all his work. After a short recess, Mary is once again a prominent figure with Pope Francis. His pontificate seems to be significantly shaped by Marian theology and veneration.

Leonardo De Chirico

leonardo.dechirico@ifeditalia.org

Rome, 10th May 2013

There is a deep longing in every human heart for relationship — for unconditional love, trust and acceptance. We long to belong. Belonging is one side of the human condition. But there is another, incongruous, side. Seeking community, we also crave autonomy. We long to be free, to be independent from the rule and constraint of others. This internal tug-of-war is the source of much conflict and confusion. Our yearning for intimacy is trumped by our coveting self-rule. Yet grasping sovereignty leads to bitter isolation and loneliness. These conflicting desires summarize the human condition.

Christianity enters the story with the claim that Jesus can put this war to end once and for all. “God,” Christians say, “created you for relationship.” God’s infinite love, revealed in Jesus Christ, became human to break down the wall of separation between divine and human, between human and human and between “me and myself.” Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection from the grave provides a pathway for you and me to believe and, in believing, for our desires to be transformed.

This is the Christian claim, but is it true? That is, does it work this way? Does believing in Jesus really change behavior? I suggest that the answer is both “yes,” and “no.” Before I explain, let me offer some perspective.

Over the years we have served far too many churches whose pastors or leaders had been caught in adultery or in the practice of pornography. In one church, a pastor had extramarital affairs with two married women in the church over a 14-year period. When we confronted the pastor and urged him into a restoration process, he accused us of lacking grace. He left the church and eventually assumed another pastorate in another part of the country. Three years later I received a call from an elder in his new church. The elder had tracked me down with some effort to ask what I knew about his pastor’s history. I told him. There was a long silence. It had happened again.

Unfortunately, believing does not equal behaving. Sadly, it is all too common for Christians to be unchristian. Look at our own desire. How did my life change after I “asked Jesus into my heart” when I was eight years old? How has your character been transformed after you “became a Christian?” Was saying a prayer, or claiming a belief, sufficient to change your desire? I think not. Salvation is not so much an event in time but an ethical and dynamic process over time. In other words, our conversion is continuous.¹

I suspect that the extent of your transformation of character and mine is directly related to how authentic our life has been lived in a faith community since we professed faith. Why? Because believing without belonging has little power to change behaving. Or, put another way, character is shaped not by what we know but who we are with others.

Is your church a place where other people truly know you? where you can admit weakness and doubt? where you can celebrate true joy? where people walk with you through failure, heart ache and hardship? If your answer is “yes,” I suspect that your life has been, and is being, transformed. If not, my guess is that your inner self is stuck and still at war. Further, your prayer for Jesus to set you free may be digging you deeper into the mire, if freedom is your desire.

Authentic Community

Authentic community is where the three-way relationship between you, God and others may flourish for emotional and spiritual growth. This is God’s intent and the church is the place He appointed for this to happen. Unfortunately, this may not describe your church. In fact, the place where you worship may not be particularly safe and not an easy place to get to know others. While people talk about community, it may be superficial and, well, fake.

Authentic community is built upon the trust of people being genuine; where people are learning more and more about God and one another — not because everyone is mature or wise or perfect (far from it) but because they understand that God will help them grow up in Christ as they learn to speak the truth in love with one another. But this can happen only as we give up our claim to self. Desire is the enemy of authentic community.

Desire is revealed when we view the church with consumer habits of thinking and patterns of practice. When “my need” demands a transaction to get “what I want” out of God or others, the object and subject is “me.” God and the church become commodities to satisfy our consumer tastes and desires.

Contrast this way of thinking with Paul’s description of the church as a people who gather for and with others at the foot of the cross:

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death–even death on a cross!

Philippians 2:3-8

When the basis of our coming together is selfish desire, not common life, our needs are placed in competition with others. Instead of looking out for the interest of others, we think and act for ourselves. Instead of serving, we want to be served. Instead of deeper relationship, we have greater desire. The Apostle James says as much,

"What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You want something but don’t get it. You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God.”

James 4:1-3

God calls us into relationship with Him and with one another in order to redeem our desire. God wants to radically alter our thoughts, feelings and actions toward others. But this requires the discipline of living in authentic community.

Question: What does authentic community look like?

Answer: People gathering around and practicing the one another commands.

The one another commands are reciprocal commands. By “reciprocal,” we mean mutual. All must enter into and practice with one another. By “commands,” we understand that the commands are neither good ideas, nor options. They are imperatives and indicatives — both prescription and description — of authentic community. Discovering how to live in authentic community will redeem your desire, change your mind and transform your character . . . while satisfying the deep yearning of your soul.

Metanoia Ministries provides innovative products and services to diagnose need, reconcile conflict, nurture one another community, and equip spiritual leaders with Christ-like competency and character.  Since 1994, we have served more than eighty-five churches in thirty-three different denominations.

For information visit http://www.restoringthechurch.org/

We who have the greatest message in the world—the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ—ought to be the clearest and most compelling communicators. It’s probably true that we evangelicals generally do well with one-way communication—preaching, lecturing, singing, and writing. It seems, however, that we are not always as strong with dialogue. We don’t always listen carefully. We can be too verbose. We offer unsolicited opinions. We fail to notice. Or we allow ourselves to be distracted by thinking about our response while others are still speaking.

If we struggle in cultivating ordinary conversation, how can we possibly broach difficult faith discussions, which tend to be wrought with deeply held convictions, some of which are antagonistic to Christian faith? The key word here is "cultivating." Like the farmer who prepares the soil before successfully planting a seed, a number of preparatory measures ought to precede gospel conversation. Such measures grow out of prayer and worship—asking God to stimulate our affections and open doors for connecting with others. This much, I trust, is fairly obvious. It is the subsequent steps that I would like to consider. The first of which is the importance of noticing cues that highlight a person’s openness God.

Noticing Cues

I use the word "openness" and not "interest" because it seems that the latter assumes a greater level of consciousness. The former, "openness," is often true without full awareness. In other words, the human heart craves God even when the desire hasn’t been consciously formulated. Thus, a friend may speak at some length about her area of need—a fear, anxiety, or an inexplicable angst—without every mentioning God, when in fact her words have cried out for God the entire time without realizing it. This is "openness," and this is precisely what we need to recognize.

As you would expect, Jesus was an expert at identifying such cues. Whether it was at a well in Samaria or around those scummy tax collectors (including the little one who hung out in a tree), human hearts lay open before Christ’s compassionate gaze. For instance, Matthew says of Jesus:

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." (Matthew 9:36-38)

Notice the order. Jesus was moved to compassion when he saw the crowds. Such compassion was instigated by a particular observation: "they were harassed and helpless." How is it possible to observe such details by simply looking at a large collection of people? That is, unless Jesus saw something more.

Self-Abandonment

Seeing the heartache of our friends and other loved ones requires us to consciously take the attention from ourselves and focus it on them. Pretty obvious isn’t it? But it’s easier said than done. Here is an example of how it works.

It was in the early 19th century when a French professor of medicine, René Laennec, invented the stethoscope. In his classic treatise De l’Auscultation Médiate (1819), Dr. Laennec explains how he was treating a young woman who appeared to be struggling with heart disease. On account of her corpulent frame, the young doctor struggled to hear the woman’s heartbeat—that is, until he remembered a lesson he had recently learned from the field of acoustics. At once, he rolled a sheet of paper into a cylinder and applied one end to the patient’s heart and the other to his ear. The clarity with which he heard the heartbeat was extraordinary. The stethoscope was born.

Every physician knows that attentive listening is a powerful requisite for healing, without which there is no diagnosis, and without a diagnosis there can be no personalized application of the remedy. Surely Jesus—the Great Physician—understood this when he looked upon the shepherdless crowd. With keen attention our Lord diagnosed the crowd’s harassed and helpless state, resulting in genuine compassion. In this pattern we find a valuable lesson.

Listen with Intentionality

As a pastor of a local church, I enjoyed taking congregants to coffee and asking them to talk about the issues about the issues that most concerned them. It is remarkable how quickly folks will open up when they are given the opportunity. Honesty and vulnerability of a most remarkable quality would usually follow. In such situations, my job was simple: listen. Listen for patterns. Listen for underlying causes. Listen for regrets. Listen as through a stethoscope to identify the particular malady to which the good news of Jesus would bring healing.

I can give you dozens of examples from what I have learned on the hearing end from a decade of pastoral ministry, but let me tell you about an occasion when a friend applied her ear to my heart. It was weeks after my father’s cardiac arrest when this friend of the family engaged me in conversation about how I was handling it. By that time, I was in way over my head, singlehandedly running the family business. The water line of anxiety rose with each day until eventually I started having panic attacks. Into this dark valley my friend appeared with her questions.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, my friend was applying the pattern of Jesus. She asked probing questions—honest, genuine, humble ones. Her posture wasn’t that of a teacher or sage preparing to impart wisdom; she was simply a friend listening attentively, finding cues that revealed my fears and insecurities. Finally, with some perspective on my angst, she winsomely applied God’s promises of comfort and salvation.

In all of this, my friend not only cultivated gospel conversation; in a way that she couldn’t have fully grasped, she was also God’s instrument for cultivating my soul, as evidenced by my conversion, which followed shortly thereafter. Indeed, this is what makes such an approach to conversation so exciting: we prepare the soil, we plant the seeds, and sometimes—often when we least expect it—we get to witness the life-changing power of God.

There is reciprocal relationship between conflict and character. Each is necessary in defining and refining a leader. It is a simple truth, often ignored, that leadership, like silver, is proven in the white heat of crisis, not calm. Conflict “proves” us in ways that both measure and form. It reveals the dross and forms the metal of our character.

Margaret attended a church I served many years ago. Margaret had multiple sclerosis. Confined to a wheel chair for most of her adult life, Margaret’s body was contorted and misshapen. She spoke softly, often slurring her words in barely audible grunts. She drooled constantly and was in pain nearly all her waking hours. She had grounds for complaint. But Margaret did not complain. She loved Jesus and she never missed church. Every Sunday morning and evening, mid-week prayer meeting and special gathering, Margaret was always there, always in a neatly pressed dress.

One night, after I first arrived at the church, I led a dialog with a group of about 20 people from the church. I had asked people to tell me their favorite Bible verse or a passage from Scripture that was personally meaningful. Several people offered verses which I noted on a flip chart up front.

Whenever we work in conflicted churches we make a point to stay close to Scripture. God’s word is alive and active. It is powerful to bind us together as well as to reveal and judge our thoughts. (Heb 4:12) By starting with God’s Word, not our opinions, we remind ourselves of what we share and what we believe together. When people share their personal testimony we hear the salvation story anew. We remind ourselves and one another of God’s grace and forgiveness. Beyond this, it is hard to be angry at people that you are praying for or sharing Scripture with. After many people spoke, Margaret let me know she wanted to say something. Her friend interpreted her words for me.

"Margaret would like to share a verse, " the friend said.

Most of the people had recited their verse from memory or read it aloud from Scripture. Since Margaret could not speak, I read the verse for her:

"It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Thy statutes." (Psalm 119:71, NASB)

Margaret smiled broadly and nodded her head. Her wheelchair was a testimony to grace.

People like Margaret bring clarity and perspective. We want instant answers. God shapes eternal purposes.

"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all." (2Co 4:17)

One bright blue summer day a few years back I stood outside a demonstration tent at an arts and crafts fair, fascinated with a blacksmith working iron. These demonstration tents are set up for public education. Different craftspeople take turns practicing their craft publicly, describing how they work and answering questions. In this tent, the smith was big and burly, like you would imagine he should be. His arms were muscular and his apron black. He worked fast and seemingly carefree.

His task was forming a wrought iron lamp-stand, undoubtedly something he had made many times before. While he worked, he explained the process, how the iron must be heated to be twisted, then pounded evenly with a hammer against the anvil to mold the bends and curves of the lamp. Not too much heat. Not too much pounding.

Carefully and with precision, the smith pounded the iron and tapped the anvil — pound and tap, pound and tap. The tapping, he explained, provides the rhythm so the pounding is even. And with each tap the smith turns the iron slightly so the pounding does not weaken any one spot more than others.

Then the LORD said to Satan, "Have you considered my servant Job? There is no-one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil. And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason." "Skin for skin!" Satan replied. "A man will give all he has for his own life. But stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face. The LORD said to Satan, "Very well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life." (Job 2:3-6)

"Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers." (Lk 22:31-32)

Conflict is necessary for God’s redemptive purpose. Note: Satan had to ask permission to test Job and Peter.

Pounding may come, but only within God’s rhythm, and never beyond what you may bear. God holds us — and molds us — in His hands.

God uses conflict to shape and save. "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Gen 50:20)

How is the conflict, hardship and suffering you are experiencing revealing and refining your character?

Metanoia Ministries provides innovative products and services to diagnose need, reconcile conflict, nurture one another community, and equip spiritual leaders with Christ-like competency and character.  Since 1994, we have served more than eighty-five churches in thirty-three different denominations.

For information visit http://www.restoringthechurch.org/

Amy Carmichael (1867 – 1951) served in India as a missionary from Northern Ireland. Shocked to discover that poor girls were “donated” to Hindu temples to be trained as cult prostitutes, she devoted herself to saving children from religious prostitution and infanticide. Founding the Dohnavur Fellowship¹ in 1901, her work became well-known through her many books, poems, and letters. In the poem below, Amy Carmichael writes about the scars of the cross that mark a true disciple of Christ.

No Scar?

Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land;
I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?
Yet I was wounded by the archers; spent,
Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed Me, I swooned.
Hast thou no wound?

No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And piercèd are the feet that follow Me.
But thine are whole; can he have followed far
Who has nor wound nor scar?²

Footnotes:

¹ See the Dohnavur Fellowship website, http://www.dohnavurfellowship.org/index.html.

² Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes: The Collected Poems of Amy Carmichael (Fort Washington, PA: Christian Literature Crusade, 1999), 173.

Philosophy professor Arturo Fontaine Talavera (1952 – ) is the director of the Centro de Estudios Públicos (Center of Public Studies) in Chile.¹ In a study of the impact of globalization on culture in Chile, he outlines the impact, in the last few decades, of the spread of evangelical (mainly Pentecostal) religion—particularly amongst the poorest people in the capital city, Santiago.

His findings remind one of the story of the “rich young ruler” in Matthew 19. Jesus homed in on the pivotal issue in this man’s life, namely love of possessions. If the fellow could master this, then his spiritual prospects were wonderful. Unfortunately, he could not turn his back on materialism, so his hopes for fellowship with God and anointed service to man were dashed.

In the case of these Chilean men, they have become convinced that their participation in their society’s drinking-party culture has been their ruin, so they have undergone radical behavioral surgery, whereby alcohol has been removed from their lives. For other believers in other cultures, it may well be something else, some other point at which they feel obliged to make a sweeping break with their past. What is common to all such decisions is regeneration, surrender to the lordship of Christ, and never-before-imagined fruitfulness.

The evangelicals are characterized by their dedication to work and by their rejection of alcohol. The man who converts transforms his life, especially his family life, abandoning liquor and “the lads.” The formerly absent father makes himself responsible for being in the house and providing for his family; he accepts the marriage and the paternity of his children, stops beating his wife, and goes to church with her and his children…

Investigations in La Pintana [the “garbage district” on the periphery of Santiago] confirm time and time again the thesis that evangelicalism produces reform in the family. It is testified to, for example, by Rubén Urrutia, a forty-five-year-old construction worker who converted to Pentecostalism: “The change is that instead of spending money on stupidities, it is invested in the family, to have a better life…”²

The most visible change [for men] is that they stop drinking, and in this it must be remembered that this is a habit that begins as they leave childhood and is practiced among a very close group of friends. It is a ritual that belongs to the masculine world; hence, breaking with alcohol is also breaking with friends and redefining oneself as a man. In this sense, evangelical conversion possibly represents a much more radical change for the man than for the woman, for how can someone be a man and not go out drinking with his friends? How can someone be a man, go out and play football, and not go out for a “celebration” afterward?

Both our focus groups and in-depth interviews in La Pintana demonstrate than this is [sic] change is fundamental to conversion. The convert stops drinking, orders his life, abandons old friends, partying, and women, stops spending wildly, renews his marriage on the basis of respect and love, becomes involved with the children, and takes part in domestic chores. The change is so complete that it is difficult to believe; the evidence is overwhelming, however.³

Footnotes:

¹ See Centro de Estudios Públicos Website, http://www.cepchile.cl/. For a biographical sketch, see “Arturo Fontaine,” Internationales Literaturfestival Website http://www.literaturfestival.com/bios1_3_6_702.html.

² For a list of studies of the effect of conversion on the life of the family, see Arturo Fontaine Talavera, “Trends toward Globalization in Chile,” in Many Globalizations: Cultural Diversity in the Contemporary World, eds. Peter L. Berger and Samuel P. Huntington (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 292, note 13.

³ Ibid., 252, 265-266, 271.

Adoniram Judson was among the first missionaries that American Baptists sent overseas. During a long career in Burma, he became noted for his commitment to evangelism and his translation of the Bible into Burmese. A master of languages, he also produced a Burmese grammar and dictionary. His preaching ministry resulted in thousands of conversions though it was interrupted by imprisonment for 17 months during a war between England and Burma from 1824-1825.

In this selection, Judson shows that his accomplishments did not come at the expense of prayer. While the specific routine he recommends is not feasible for all believers, the spirit behind such a regimen is surely a key to depth and endurance in ministry.

Arrange thy affairs, if possible, so that thou canst leisurely devote two or three hours every day, not merely to devotional exercises, but to the very act of secret prayer and communion with God. Endeavor, seven times a day, to withdraw from business and company, and lift up thy soul to God in private retirement. Begin the day by rising after midnight and devoting some time, amid the silence and darkness of the night, to this sacred work. Let the hour of opening dawn find thee at the same work; let the hours of nine, twelve, three, six, and nine at night witness the same. Be resolute in this course. Make all practicable sacrifices to maintain it. Consider that thy time is short, and that business and company must not be allowed to rob thee of thy God. At least, remember the morning, noon, and night seasons, and the season after midnight, if not detrimental to thy health.¹

Footnotes:

¹ Edward Judson, The Life of Adoniram Judson (New York: Randolph and Co., 1883), 572.

J. C. Ryle (1816-1900) was a prominent evangelical leader in the Church of England during the second half of the 19^thcentury. A champion of orthodox doctrine in an age of theological decline, he never divorced dogma from holy living. In fact, his book Holiness, from which this excerpt is taken, argued that no true Christian lacks practical godliness. And developing godliness requires practicing the spiritual disciplines.

Sanctification, again, is a thing which depends greatly on a diligent use of scriptural means. When I speak of “means,” I have in view Bible-reading, private prayer, regular attendance on public worship, regular hearing of God’s Word, and regular reception of the Lord’s Supper. I lay it down as a simple matter of fact, that no one who is careless about such things must ever expect to make much progress in sanctification. I can find no record of any eminent saint who ever neglected them. They are appointed channels through which the Holy Spirit conveys fresh supplies of grace to the soul, and strengthens the work which He has begun in the inward man. Let men call this legal doctrine if they please, but I will never shrink from declaring my belief that there are no “spiritual gains without pains.” I should as soon expect a farmer to prosper in business who contented himself with sowing his fields and never looking at them till harvest, as expect a believer to attain much holiness who was not diligent about his Bible-reading, his prayers, and the use of his Sundays. Our God is a God who works by means, and He will never bless the soul of that man who pretends to be so high and spiritual that he can get on without them.¹

Footnotes:

¹ J. C. Ryle, Holiness: It’s Nature, Hindrances, Difficulties, and Roots, rev. ed. (Moscow, ID: Charles Nolan, 2001), 25.

Hymn writers and artists have conveyed to us a picture of Jesus hanging on a Cross on a hill far away. In fact, the place of execution was just outside the city gate, beside the main road leading into Jerusalem. And those to be crucified were only raised two to eighteen inches above the ground. That meant all the dignity and modesty and purity of Jesus’ physical person was stripped away and He was left naked to die in searing, scorching heat, writhing and groaning in agony, at virtually eye level with those who passed by on their way to and from the city.

In their rush to get to the temple area in time to purchase a lamb for sacrifice, did the pilgrims preparing for Passover even notice the Lamb that God was sacrificing for their sin? As Jesus poured out His life, people must have passed by without a glance.

In a small way, are we pouring out our lives for those who don’t notice? And, more importantly, are we noticing the One who hung and died for us?