Easter Invitation

Your invitation to this table doesn't arrive in the mail. Neither does mine. It arrived over 2,000 years ago in an upper room, a shared meal, a prayer garden, a love more powerful than death, an empty tomb, and a risen Lord. This is his table, not ours. We are all guests. 

When Jesus made his triumphal and final entry into Jerusalem, the people celebrated, waved palm branches, and shouted, “Hosanna!” which means, “Save us now!” If you are hungry for hosanna – for God to feed you with the amazing power of resurrecting love today, and every day – this meal is for you. Welcome home!

A crucial part of the earthly Jesus’ transition to risen Christ came at the table on that last night together. Surrounded by those he loved, who were trying to learn how to love, seeking the courage to follow, and desperate to understand, Jesus took bread and wine – the basic elements of human nourishment – and forever connected his presence to them.

He said the bread was his body, breaking and about to be broken for all. We take; we eat; because we are learning that we need to be filled with more than food in order to live and love in the fullness for which God created us. He poured and shared wine, telling them it was his blood in which the sacrifice of love was being written. We take; we drink; because it is becoming increasingly clear that our spirits need quenching as much as our bodies, and love without measure is the only cup that satisfies. And then they went to the garden to pray.    

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Rolling Stone

 Luke 24:² They found the stone rolled away from the tomb...

What if it was our own millstone

rolled away at the garden tomb

that first Easter morning,

or even our grindstone?

Think of all the crushing,

breath-taking things rolled back

so they no longer interfere

with the joyous fullness

that God purposes for us to live;

no longer tied around our necks

as we try to swim through life;

not squeezing, grinding, hemming in;

unfettering us to hope, forgive, and live

for God, others, and self, in that glorious order;

free to exclaim creation's intended

hallelujahs at the top of our lungs,

pitched in the key of grace.

Just imagine the sound

of that rolling stone!

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Remember Me

Criminals to the left and right,

Jesus was crucified front-and-center,

as if he somehow might escape

if not completely surrounded.

Mercy was his plea, as the economics

of death played out; soldiers gambling

for the clothes he would never need again:

“Father, forgive them;

they don’t know what they are doing.”

From one side or the other,

hoping against the crowd’s disbelief,

one thief’s anger unfurls,

raising the flag of criminal camaraderie,

begging for and yet demanding

deliverance by association, sans contrition.

From the other side, with no leg

but honesty to stand on,

another thief’s plea for mercy pours:

“Jesus, remember me when you

come into your kingdom.”

“Remember me…” he begs,

as if he knows how powerful a weapon

memory can be against the army of coercion;

as if he already understands how foundational

it is for faith: “This do in remembrance of me.”

Silence to the first thief, as if he might still

have an opportunity to respond differently;

hope and promise to the second:

“Truly I tell you, today you will

be with me in Paradise.”

Our king; our promise. Thanks be to God!

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Love

A guest blog from my daughter:

When you love, you

sow resilient little seeds

deeply into your heart.

They blossom radiantly;

lovely buds and blooms

you have given of yourself

to nurture and protect.

When this love has been uprooted,

you till, vigorously, the soil

of your tender heart,

upturning a fresh bed

and leaving no visible trace

of root, stem, or crushed petal

to fall underfoot as you

trudge along determined to rebuild.

New seeds are planted,

and though it is with doubt,

you allow yourself to

tenderly cultivate anew.

However, the perfumed fragrance

of old love will linger long after

the flora has withered.

You cannot completely uproot

everything; every once in a while,

you will find an old flower

has stubbornly clung to its bed

and pushes its way up

among the new rows.

Let these few seeds remain.

Do not uproot everything

simply for the sake of ripping

from the root a small reminder

of your vulnerability and trust.

Instead, cherish the fact that

you allowed yourself to sow

a love so deeply that

a part of it will always remain.

Enjoy this occasional reminder

of beauty and brokenness,

as you grow in new and better ways.

© 2013 Holly Jane Jenkins

www.PlaneHoppingHolly.com  

Golgotha

Control cut down the tree,

shaping, reforming vertical beauty;

forcing uniformity, perpendicular intersection.

Politics laid the groundwork

for the planning commission

robbing humanity’s common good.

Power shaped and formed the nails;

flat heads for pounding,

sharp points for penetration.

Religion formed the molds,

pouring molten metal into

orthodoxy’s safe conformity.  

Violence created the hammer;

wood cushioning the shock of hand,

steel maximizing impact of the swing.

Economics wedged the head of force

into the handle of advantage,

expanding chasm between haves and nots.

Stubborn belief that these three –

Control, Power, Violence –

were the only and best means

to victory, set the plan in motion;

God-with-skin-on bowed

to culture’s relentless "advance".

For three days it seemed

as if it were not only true but inevitable.

Who could have imagined anything else?

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Winning

After 53+ years of occasional winning

and quite a bit of losing,

here is what I've learned:

those who quit when things aren't fair,

when things don't go their way,

or when they aren't winning,

will not only miss the experience

of playing for the sheer joy of the game,

they also risk quitting on life –

a tragedy of the greatest magnitude.

If winning is all there is and

all that matters, the world

and life itself are quite meaningless.

A lot of fools know how to win,

but it takes courage, wisdom, and strength

to live, and even thrive through loss.

Life's greatest lessons are learned,

not in success, but failure.

The cross, as Rome’s ultimate 

and torturous means of victory,

does not win. Love does!

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Perspective