The time has come. The promise that began in Bethlehem some thirty-three years earlier is nearing fruition. A great storm is brewing—not the kind we experience here in the Ozarks in springtime—but an emotional storm of doubt and betrayal. Just a few days earlier, Jesus had been heralded as a king and now, the same crowd has adopted a mob mentality. Just a few rabble-rousers turned worshippers into haters, clamoring for the death of a man who had never committed a crime. And the kangaroo court allowed it to happen.

A mob acts out of emotion, absent facts, absent contemplation, and mostly absent responsibility. What they get in return is anonymity. Conscience can be exhausting. Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird

An angry mob, incited to riot by a few well-placed rumors, by signs accusing someone of something, whether true or not, some targeted comments from the rear of the crowd or social media posts. We’ve seen much of that in recent years, filling our TV screens and flooding the twenty-four-hour streaming newscasts. Our instant communication makes it much easier and farther-reaching than in Jesus’ day. In seconds venomous statements and actions can reach millions of people. I wonder how quickly our current culture would sentence Jesus to death row. And how many of the antagonists would even know why? Or would they just be caught up in the frenzy?

God put the wrong on him who never did anything wrong, so we could be put right with God. II Corinthians 5:21 MSG.

So, the mechanics were set in motion. Jesus would be beaten to within an inch of death. He would be ordered to carry his own cross to the hill where he would be executed. Once there, beaten and bloodied, he would be laid upon the cross and, as the nails pierced his hands, he saw before his eyes every sin that you or I would ever commit. With the nails in place, the cross was raised and his weight fell upon the nails. For six long hours, he hung there in excruciating agony, he was hungry for he hadn’t eaten since the night before. He was thirsty and dehydrated, yet he asked for nothing.

He spoke few words, but those he did utter, were meaningful. To me, the most poignant were the three words, “It is finished.” All the planning since the beginning of time, all the mistakes made by all humans, then and before them, and all that would ever be, came down to that one moment. We can never imagine the weight he took upon himself just to bear our sins.

The day had become dark as night and the heavens roared in anger that this perfect one had to die. And at the instant when he breathed his last breath, the temple curtain was torn in half. The curtain that separated man from God was no more. Jesus had opened the pathway for all mankind to come freely to Him who would forever be our guide, our comforter, our merciful friend, our Savior.

Those three final words signaled not only Jesus’ human death but also eliminated the middleman. We could speak to God directly and He would hear every word.

When I’m tempted to doubt how much He loves me, I remember how Jesus put aside His human emotions, stayed the course, did the will of His Father, and kept going…for you and me. Erin Keeley Marshall, Mornings with Jesus 2025

Once again a puzzle very clearly illustrated a truth about all mankind.

But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Our tale begins this past week when Ken and I began a great new challenge; a beautiful, but slightly used, puzzle shaped like a large lighthouse that contained paintings of multiple smaller lighthouses within its borders. Understand that I am a major admirer of real-life lighthouses. If I discover we’re within a hundred miles of one, I’m ready for a detour from our planned route. So I was really anxious to see this project completed. About halfway into the construction of the puzzle, I began to have doubts that one of the key pieces had been in the box. This sometimes occurs with our flea market finds.

As we neared the end, the piece was obviously missing. I get really frustrated when that happens and I was so disappointed that I was ready to tear our puzzle apart so I wouldn’t have to see it again. But we finished and, as I walked past the table a little later and grabbed a quick glance at those beautiful lighthouses, a thought struck me. Our puzzle was still beautiful though imperfect.

And that led me to the shocking reminder that I am also imperfect. Each of is imperfect in our own way, some more than others, but Jesus doesn’t care. He’ll sit down to dinner with any one of us, walk through our deepest valleys with us, follow us into our messiest mistakes, hoping that He can turn us around.

That’s why He chose the cross. He could have decided, after living among us, to follow in Joseph’s footsteps and become a carpenter. He didn’t have to reveal his identity or leave the home he’d grown up in. He wasn’t forced to abandon an assumed partnership with his earthly father. No one enticed him to walk away from the love of his faithful family. He had experienced a nice, cozy life in Nazareth…why would he want to leave?

Simple. He was no ordinary human and he was not intended to be a carpenter. He lived a very human life but he was the Son of God. I’ve heard people say that if Judas had not betrayed him, Jesus wouldn’t have had to die as a young man.

That kind of reasoning denies God’s omniscience. Before time began, before there was an earth, before humans existed, our God knew that his human creations would stray from his presence and develop many imperfections. But he loves us and chose to also create a path back to Him. Through the greatest sacrifice ever known or imagined, God asked his own son, Jesus, to bear all our imperfections in one incredible act of mercy so that our path to heaven would be cleared. And Jesus accepted his mission.

For God saved us and called us to live a holy life. He did this, not because we deserved it, but because that was his plan from the beginning of time—to show us his grace through Christ Jesus. I Timothy 1:9

God loved us so much that he was willing to place his Son on a cross for us. Forgiveness of our imperfections was dependent upon the success of God’s plan. But he needed a co-conspirator to set the plan in motion, and who should step up and volunteer? One of Jesus’ own followers. I believe there is significance in that deceitful act. It points to the truth of our imperfection. One man, who traveled everywhere with Jesus in his three-year ministry and earned the trust of the other disciples, turned on Jesus for the promise of a few coins.

How often do we, in a moment of weakness, turn away from God for the lure of something better, bigger, more impressive, more fun? Judas represented all of us. But God gave us a way back. Now the choice is in our hands. Who do we follow?

But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still (imperfect) sinners. Romans 5:8

That puzzle, with its one very obvious flaw, is back in its box. But when I think of it, I no longer see its imperfection. I see charming lighthouses I’d love to visit, towers I’d like to climb, and views from the top that would be awesome, and I can imagine the tales their walls would tell if they could talk.

And when a person I encounter displays an imperfection, I would hope that I might not even notice. After all, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. Jesus loves me with all my imperfections and sees me as beautiful. Who am I to notice imperfections in others?

And walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. Ephesians 5-2

I don’t know about you, but as I age, I’m noticing that my body is not so tolerant of the foods I’ve enjoyed over the years. I love seasonings, not hot peppers mind you, but all the sweet and savory herbs and spices that give the foods we eat a little extra zing. More and more, though, I live to regret my exuberant excesses of culinary freedom.

In like manner, my skin is less tolerant of heavily scented lotions, soaps, shampoos, and laundry products. I find myself shopping for “free and clear” or “sensitive” labels.

Shopping with my granddaughter is always an adventure. At fourteen, she is obsessed with the scent and constantly pressing a candle, perfume, or lotion under my nose. “Smell this one, Grandma!” My senses quickly fall into overload territory, and I have to back off a bit.

However, when I’m back at home and breathe in a generous whiff of lilac fragrance, I’m likely to feel some heavy-duty sinus pressure as a result of my indulgence. It’s worth it though…lilacs only bloom once a year and for a very short time so I’ll just have to bite the bullet

A myriad of scents tickle our noses every day. The scent of spring rain in our Ozark hills or salt water on the beach. A newborn baby all washed and clean, the scent of children at play, earthy and slightly rank. At special times there’s the tantalizing smell of traditional holiday foods, greenery on the mantle, the celebratory gunpowder cloud following a gigantic display of fireworks. There are scents that provide warning like smoke that tells us fire is nearby or the spray of a skunk that simply says it’s time to leave. That same sweet-smelling newborn baby can create a terrible odor indicating a diaper change is needed.

Life is an adventure of scents, both good and not-so-good. And we all like a little spice or perfume in our days, like the lively “discussions” that arise when family gets together or the reward of friendships that endure the test of time. Even the offensive fragrances in our lives help to guide us.

I’ve lately been fascinated by the placement of words like fragrance and aroma in the Bible.

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. John 12:3

Each of the four Gospels relates a short story about a woman anointing Jesus’ body with a very expensive oil shortly before his death on the cross. There are disagreements and controversies among theologians regarding the identity of the woman and her station in life but I like the way John expresses the act as a sweet tribute to a man who brought nothing but goodness to everyone he met.

If we’d watched the road signs carefully from the beginning of Jesus’ life until the end. If we’d had faith in their validity, we would have known, when the Wise Men brought gifts of frankincense and myrrh to the baby Jesus, spices that honored a king but would also mask the decomposition of human tissues and, some thirty-three years later, when a woman anointed the man called Jesus with precious oil just days before he hung on a cross, that his death would be something extraordinary. But, as humans, we couldn’t see the Divine side of Jesus. He was our close and very human friend and, in our humanness, we assumed that death would be the end of the relationship.

What a blessing to be wrong! Jesus is not dead…he’s very much alive and though he sits beside his Father in heaven, he is also right here, in the midst of our gritty lives and understanding every bit of it because he lived it. In Jesus, we have a dear friend we can trust to always be there and we should be raining down his fragrance from the mountaintops.

…and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Ecclesiastes 12:7

Have you ever noticed how the day following an evening or overnight storm often dawns bright and clear with a sky so blue it takes your breath away? I’ve seen it happen more often than not, and it always creates a deep feeling of hope in me….

It’s late Sunday evening again as I write…I seem to be following a pattern. I should be trying to sleep but a few thoughts have been rattling around my head and heart today and I wanted to put them into written words before sleep wipes them from my memory.

As everyone in southwest Missouri knows, we had a major spring storm on Friday evening. Winds howled all day and heavy rain fell in the late afternoon into early evening, bringing hail along with it in some areas. Thunder rumbled through the hills and lightening crackled as it lit up the sky. Clouds hung so heavy that daylight turned to twilight before its time.

The storm front left us in its wake fairly early in the evening, but others to our east saw the real fury of the monster weather event. Lives were extinguished and property damage was heavy. And, unlike the more typical storms, this time morning didn’t dawn bright. In fact, we didn’t see the sun on Saturday as the cloud layer hung just above us.

I began to see a parallel this past Saturday with one that followed Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. It occurred to me that the day was set aside to mourn lost lives just as the followers of Jesus, many years ago, mourned the loss of His presence. For some, it was a time of doubting, for others a time to remember moments spent with Him. I’m sure there were those who questioned why God allowed our vicious storm system to cut swaths of destruction through so many communities and rural areas. The National Weather Service confirmed damage from an EF 3 tornado, packing winds between 136 and 165 mph, in one community. Numerous other communities were struck and, in total, the storm claimed eleven lives in our state. Many others were left without homes or with heavy damage. Power was out for many customers.

Of course, our storm could never equal the impact of Jesus’ death on the cross. But, when I awoke to sunny blue skies on Sunday morning, I felt a reminder of the importance of Easter morning. Friday was an excruciating day, Saturday was a time to mourn, and Sunday brought the promise of new life. Jesus experienced his own storm that Friday long ago, the likes of which we could never comprehend. He endured the vilest of human tortures while, at the same time, being torn from His own Father by claiming all our sins upon Himself. He’s the kind of Savior I want watching over me. He gave everything so that we could take all our worries and fears to the foot of that cross upon which He suffered and died….and leave them there.

This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. John 3:16 (MSG)

Did you catch the word “anyone” in this translation?

Boots are on the ground assisting those impacted by our storms, immediate needs are being met and contacts will be shared for help with long-term needs. Time will heal the physical wounds and rebuilding will soon be in progress. But there will be scars, reminders of a time of extreme turmoil, and, hopefully, spiritual growth. Jesus had visible scars too. He showed His nail-pierced hands to Thomas to help him trust and believe. He will do the same for us if we choose to let Him.

Have mercy on those who doubt. Jude 1:22

The next time you look upon an image of Jesus hanging on the cross with His arms opened wide, know that He is ready to welcome each of us home. If you haven’t taken that step, this is the season to get to know Him.

One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. Psalm 27:4

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. Psalm 56:3

My gardening juices are flowing this week. Seventy-degree daytime highs and nighttime lows above freezing make us all want to believe that spring is here for sure. Better take a step back—March and April can always bring some unwanted surprises in the form of frost, freeze, or snow. That means we shouldn’t jump the gun when planting tender annuals. I know—you want your tomatoes to ripen as early as possible, but you’d be better advised to start them inside in a sunny window or mini-greenhouse so that they’ll be strong enough to brave the outdoors a little later.

To satisfy your urge to play in the dirt, there are other things you can do to prepare for summer abundance. Many types of trees and bushes can be shaped up at this time of year, but not the early bloomers. They flower on old wood so leave them alone until after they provide their show. Your garden space or landscape beds will no doubt need a major clean-up for spring; leftover leaves that need to be removed, new mulch added where needed, and this is a good time to apply slow-release fertilizer and assess any changes you might want to make.

The proper time for planting in southwest Missouri would be after April fifteen or even early May for some things. There are a few cold weather exceptions that can be planted early, but you need to investigate before you dig.

In my beds, things are stirring. Crocus are showing off their purples, yellows, and white. The Lenten rose has hidden its very early blooms under dried leaves but they are venturing out. Daffodil buds are swelling and all God’s critters are searching for a mate. My annual battle with digging squirrels is underway. And I love it—well, maybe not so much the squirrels!

Ken and I were conversing about spring a few days ago and he posed the question, “What do you think a garden looked like in Jesus’ time.” Even today, in many countries it means something other than here in the US. It could be the entire yard or a sanctuary. It could be a spiritual place inside us where we go to be with God. All definitions agree that it is a place where boundaries and order are established so that a specific goal can be maintained.

The first garden we read about in the Bible is Eden. By all descriptions, it was a place of great beauty, abundant with food. We all know bits and pieces of the story. Adam was created and gifted with a lush garden space in which to dwell, with the expectation that he would tend it. Then, of course, God decided that Adam needed a helpmate and they were to work together to maintain the garden and were blessed with many delicious foods to eat. There was one simple rule that could not be broken. They were not to eat any fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Why Eve thought it would be a good idea to taste it, we will never know and why Adam went along with the foolish idea will remain a mystery. But with that one infraction, the two of them sent our world on an uncontrollable downward spiral.

Several thousand years later, another garden appears in the Bible. It is called Gethsemane and we aren’t really offered an image of this one. Though we don’t know what grew there, we know something much more important. Jesus went there to pray about his impending sacrifice, taking with him three of his trusted disciples. We often concentrate on their lack of obedience and attention, but it would be helpful here to take a close look at Jesus, his prone body wracked with fear of the coming day, blood seeping from his pores amongst the sweat. It was here that he asked his Father to take the task before Him away— for a moment in time, he didn’t want to endure the pain. But, in the end, he told his Father that he would accept His will and carry out the conclusion of the earthly mission as set forth before time began.  

We will face our own Gardens of Gethsemane during our walk on earth. There will be times of heartbreaking trial, moments of fear. Jesus understands that—he experienced it. At those times, do what he did. Go to the Father.  

Don’t avoid life’s Gardens of Gethsemane. Enter them. Just don’t enter them alone. And while there, be honest. Pounding the ground is permitted. Tears are allowed. And if you sweat blood, you won’t be the first. Do what Jesus did; open your heart. Max Lucado, On Calvary’s Hill (originally from 3:16)

Eden was the beginning of our sin, Gethsemane was the beginning of our forgiveness. Two gardens, very different in their nature, but each bearing its own portion of our story, our promise. We will make mistakes because we are human, but Jesus is always waiting at the door to welcome us home. He knows your pain—he’s been there. Trust him.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old is gone, the new is here!  II Corinthians 5:17 NLT

If you’ve learned anything about me since I started writing for the Gatepost Weekly, you know that I treasure green living things. To say that I love to garden would be an understatement. Growing things of beauty and providing food for the table has been a part of me since childhood. At this time of year, I wait impatiently for the day when I can get outdoors and “play in the dirt.” To pass the days and prepare my mind for spring, I researched gardening opportunities, and I came across an article about grafting trees that caught my attention. It’s an art form I’ve never tried and, at this point in life, I likely won’t, but it made interesting reading and planted a few seeds for thought in my head.

It seems that fruit trees, in particular, do not grow well from seed. Most of the fruit trees we find in nurseries and garden centers have been cross-pollinated and if we attempt to grow new trees from their seed, they will revert back to one or an incorrect blending of both of the parent trees, thus producing fruit that doesn’t resemble that of the tree in your backyard. In order to ensure the quality of the fruit you’ve come to expect from your tree, grafting is your best choice for reproduction and you’ll need to start thinking about performing this surgery while the tree is in its prime because the grafted specimen will take several years to produce fruit. All things happen in God’s good timing.

I won’t go into detail, there are plenty of online sites to aid you in the process, but you will need to gather cuttings from your original fruit tree in winter while the tree is dormant and acquire rootstock from a reputable dealer in spring. Your cuttings (scion) can be grafted onto the rootstock using a number of methods. You’ll need to study them and make your choice, based upon things like location, needs, the result you want to achieve, etc. An important factor in choosing your materials is compatibility. If your rootstock and scion are not compatible, the graft will be rejected. Be sure to adequately prepare yourself for the task, which is good advice regarding any project.

I recently heard bits & pieces of a conversation on YouTube (and we all know we can trust the credibility of YouTube) between a man-on-the-street interviewer & a Jewish man. I certainly can’t quote the video but the gist of it was that the Jewish man adamantly stated that Jesus was no savior and that he, a Jewish man did not need a savior…he had God. He went on to insist that Jesus was not the long-awaited Messiah but just a teacher or priest. That’s when I really began to think about the simple fact that had the Jews in Jesus day not rejected Him as their Savior, had they not nailed Him to a cross and watched Him die but had, instead, embraced Him, how different our world would likely be today. We Christians were not God’s chosen people, but when the chosen ones killed Him, we were grafted onto the family tree of Jesus!

The big news is that because God’s chosen people rejected His son, the gospel opened for the Gentiles. We became the grafted branches of the chosen people. (Paraphrased from Romans 9:30-31)

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. As Christians, we will spend the next six weeks in contemplation of who Jesus was and what He came to do. Think about who you are in Him and how you came to be an important part of His family.

“Branches were broken off so that I could be grafted in.” Granted. But they were broken off because of unbelief and you stand by faith. Romans 11:19-20a