Saturday

“Glory in the highest!”

Read Luke 19:38.

“Glory to God in the highest and peace to God’s people on earth.” One of my very favorite things about the Lutheran liturgy is the regularity of responsive singing. I love the moments when we hear the pastor singing praises and thanksgiving, using the same familiar words we hear week after week, and then get to feel the swell of voices around me as the full congregation responds.

Those moments, beautiful as they are, pale in comparison to what I imagine the crowds experienced as Jesus approached them. They spontaneously began to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen. What power that corporate praise experience must have been, as the disciples joined together for one common reason: to praise God for Jesus and what he had done. And as amazing as that scene must have been, it cannot begin to touch what heaven will be like, as all believers from across time and space join together to praise God, together with the angels.

Even though I know we are human and flawed and self-centered and all that…doesn’t it seem like the worship we experience now together could start to approach this feeling? The Christian journey is so much more than just a feeling, but I know I sometimes lose track of the feelings…the joy…the thankfulness…the companionship I feel when with other believers. This is a reminder I will carry with me into Holy Week. -AB

Blessed are you, Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest. Increase our joy in the coming days, even as we think about your death and resurrection.

Friday

“…the stones will cry out…”

Read Luke 19:40.

We had a sunny Saturday not too long ago. Because I’m a Northwest girl, I threw open the windows and let the fresh air in (ignoring the fact that the heater turned on almost immediately because it was still ridiculously cold). As the day progressed, I was treated to the sounds of nature through my open window. It seems that the birds were as excited by the sunny day as I was, swooping around, chirping happily. The resident deer were out in full force and I could hear the sounds of them munching on our front lawn.

I’ve always thought that those sounds of nature are sounds of praise, since the plants and animals are doing exactly as God intended. When a bird is flying and chirping and eating worms, it is being the best bird it possibly can and continually brings praise and glory to God in its actions. When the Pharisees in this story tried to quiet the crowds, Jesus told them that if the crowds were silenced, even the rocks would cry out.

That’s intense joy and praise, when the rocks cannot even contain themselves. When are we like that? Children are so good at uninhibited exuberance, but we lose that as adults in an effort to be socially acceptable. But what would it be like if we allowed ourselves to connect so deeply to the joy that is in Christ that we would cry out in delight because we could not help ourselves? -AB

Jesus, help me to experience the depth of joy that the crowds experienced during your triumphal entry. Remove the barriers to my joy and delight.

Thursday

“Why are you untying that colt?”

Read Luke 19:33.

Belongings are tricky things in our house. Most items are communally shared, some belong particularly to one person or another, and quite a few are in the former category but are perceived by some small children to be in the latter. Even my younger daughter, who has only a handful of recognizable words, makes her ownership issues known loud and clear: “NOOOOOO! MINE!!!” Which is sometimes followed up with an even louder and more emphatic, “NO! MINE!” from her big sister. Ah, the joys.

I get a good deal of amusement reading some stories from the Bible, such as the story of The Triumphal Entry. The owners of the colt are hilariously nonchalant about a couple of strange men taking their animal. “As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, ‘Why are you untying the colt?’” Like “Seen any good movies lately?” It brings to mind the ancient equivalent of a couple guys in flannel shirts lounging against a split rail fence. Really, wouldn’t the owners be reacting more along the lines of, “HEY! You! What are you doing, stealing my colt! Get back here!!!”?

But the disciples replied, “The Lord needs it.” Apparently that was enough. Is that enough for me? When I get particular about things that are “mine” (time, money, belongings…), would the reasoning of “The Lord needs it” be enough for me? More importantly, what am I holding on to that Jesus is asking for? Am I being stingy with time? Compassion? Forgiveness? Resources? Money? -AB

Jesus, help me to know when you want something that I am holding on to as “mine.” Remind me that you need it and let that be enough.

Wednesday

“Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, ‘Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.’”—Luke 19:8

Leaving aside the reality that given his profession, at least half Zacchaeus’ possessions almost certainly came directly from the poor (see March 19), this little Roman tax collector undertakes an astonishing about-face.  How many of us could honestly claim similar spontaneous manifestations of charity simply to win Jesus’ favor?  Jesus hasn’t even spoken his famous lines about the Son of Man coming to seek out and to save the lost, as he’ll do in verse 10; Zacchaeus gives away the store in sheer joy over Jesus’ presence.  No strings attached!

The other day I was reading through some notes my grandmother had kept from my early childhood.  Grammy has always been a baker (her packages had quite the reputation in my dorm at PLU), and my mother wrote her a note of thanks for some cookies she gave me as a tiny girl.  Evidently she put a cookie on the tray of my high chair and I “just smiled and smiled” at it.  It touches me to think of my baby self expressing such simple joy.  I don’t think I do that very often today.  Zacchaeus did.  He’s a reminder of my need to rekindle the simple joy of living. -- LG

Thank you, Lord, for the example of Zacchaeus’ spontaneous joy at your presence.  Grant us the joy that comes from your constant presence in our lives.  Amen.

Tuesday

“All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’”—Luke 19:7

Tax collectors were not nice people in the Roman Empire.  Independent contractors, they were charged with collecting a certain quantity of taxes.  Anything they managed to scrounge up beyond that constituted their salary.  Hence, their personal interest lay in extracting just as much as they could from the locals.  This did not, as you would imagine, win friends and influence people.

Imagine, then, the consternation among the good people—the people who didn’t greedily extort vast sums from their friends and neighbors—when Jesus chose to eat with Zacchaeus.  Ugh.  How could he have chosen him? 

Jesus couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate character to illustrate the reality that God makes no distinctions.  We all have sinned and fallen short of the kingdom of God.  All of us.  Sin is sin is sin.  We may not go around taking taxes from widows, but that doesn’t make us perfect.  Only Jesus holds that title.  We are blessed beyond measure to know that God is willing to enter the hearts of each of us—though the dwellings we offer are invariably the homes of sinners. -- LG

We are so blessed, Lord, to be loved despite our failings.  Help us to truly absorb the breadth and the depth of this love which you grant us.  Amen.

Monday

“So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.”—Luke 19:4

I have always loved the mental image of Zacchaeus “climbing up a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.”  This can NOT have been a dignified maneuver.  Sandals?  Check.  Floppy robes?  Highly likely.  Prosperous tax collector with height limitations and, one would imagine, the limited dexterity of one accustomed to high living and a desk job?  Yup.  And this man is shimmying his way up a tree.  In public.  Before our Lord and Savior (even if they didn’t know that part yet).  Ideal.

That said, I know I have been known to let my dignity—or what little dignity resides in one who wears socks as ridiculous as mine—prohibit me from doing things.  I’m unwilling to stand out or to look silly.  I’m unwilling to make a heartfelt gesture that could look ridiculous in the eyes of others.  What do I miss because I’m unwilling to climb that metaphorical tree? -- LG

Please grant us the courage, Lord, to value you above all things—even our dignity.  Amen.