Holy Week: Hosanna! Crucify Him!

I have not been so faithful about writing weekly during Lent. I had grand aspirations. My hope was to write the whole series before Lent began and schedule the posts to ensure this series actually got finished!! But, sadly that didn’t happen, and life did happen. So here we are, a series half finished and Lent on its way out. Oh well, I guess. 

But this week is a week commonly referred to by Christians as Holy Week. A specially sacred time set apart (holy) to remember the myths of our traditions and meditate on how they apply to our lives. 

Holy Week begins on Palm Sunday. 

For weeks we have reflected, fasted, prayed, served. We have slowed down, quieted down, made room. 

This week we remember deeply. 

We remember Passover, when God led the Israelites out of slavery and bondage in Egypt. 

Remember Jesus’ final Passover meal, when he remembered, celebrated, and taught his friends that God’s salvific and redemptive work did not end in Egypt. 

Remember the day Jesus was arrested as a rabble-rouser, as a troublemaker, as a threat to the state. Jesus’ followers claimed that he was the messiah, the king of the Jews, come with power and a sword to bring deliverance from the Romans! Passover had long been a remembrance of deliverance and a hope for deliverance. The Romans knew Passover was the ideal time for a reformer to rise up among huge crowds and excite them to rebellion against the authorities. Thus, they were on strict lookout. Jesus was a threat. The prefect Pontius Pilate dealt with political threats swiftly and without remorse. Jesus was no different. 

We remember the day that Jesus died for love, the day when the powers of greed, selfishness, and pride arrested this man of love. Remember the day when he did not back down from his message of redemption and radical acceptance. Even unto death, he did not forsake God’s love and truth. As he hung on the cross, his oppressors mocking, still he loved them. This image of God loved even unto death. 

We remember darkness. Remember sadness. Remember grief. Acknowledge the darkness, sadness, and grief in our lives and in our world. Acknowledge all the ways that we kill Christ over and over and over in our thoughts and in our words, in what we have done and in what we have failed to do. 

This week, we see darkness. We feel darkness. We remember darkness. We welcome darkness. Pain is not bad, and we will not run from it. 

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On Sunday, Palm Sunday, we celebrated. We celebrated Jesus entering the holy city, the capitol, to the welcome of a king. We celebrated joyfully and welcomed Christ into our lives. 

Tomorrow, the crowd will shout, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Historical accuracy aside, I am concerned with what we can learn from this story, what this story teaches us about who we are. 

This story speaks to the ever-changing nature of humanity. We shout loud hosannas one day, only to crucify God the next. 

We march for justice one day, only to go home and yell at our children. 

We cook at soup kitchens one day, only to drive past the homeless the street corner the next. 

We welcome Christ in so many wonderful ways, but forget to keep Him with us. We welcome Christ, and then in small and simple ways, crucify him over and over again. 

We are not faithful. We are not steady. We are not consistent. 

But God is.

God IS faithful.

God IS steady.

God IS consistent.

And more than that - God’s LOVE is faithful, steady, consistent. 

And that’s what next Sunday is about - Easter. Easter says that no mater how bad it gets, no matter how dark, no matter how hateful - love and life will reign victorious. We killed this Christ, and he rose again, exalted on high. He rose to even greater power. He rose and gives us another chance to welcome him. On Sundays we welcome. During the week, we so often fall short and crucify him. 

We are not faithful, but God is faithful. God’s love abides whether we are welcoming him or crucifying him. God loves us wherever we are on the journey. This is a cyclical journey, not a linear one. We will welcome and crucify Christ many times over the course of our lives. We will never get it right. But God will love us through our weak human efforts. And God will love those who are hurt by our lack. Sunday will always come. Jesus will rise victorious, ready for us to welcome him into our hearts and homes, ready to give us another chance. 

On the Sundays of our lives, we are joyful and triumphant in our welcome of Christ and our proclamation of Love. On the Thursdays and Fridays of our lives, we kill the Christ and mourn for the darkness of our world. But all hope is not lost, because Sunday will always come back around, giving us another chance. God is forever tries. 

This week, let us remember. 

Three Years

Three Years.



As a new member, I used to pray often that I never lose sight of how grand and glorious a blessing the gospel is.

Well, it didn't work. This year, my baptism anniversary totally caught me by surprise. I have not been reflecting all week about what baptism means to me or how this past year has gone. Nope, haven't thought about it a bit.

What does baptism mean to me? Particularly, what does my believer's baptism into the LDS church three years ago mean to me?

That day was the first time I really made a decision for me, regardless of what anyone else said or thought I should do. Some people told me I shouldn't join the church, that I didn't know enough, that it wasn't safe. I said I'd never know "enough" to commit myself to any church, and I was choosing this one on faith. I know I might get hurt, but I took the risk anyway, believing that life will hurt me wherever I got and trusting that God would be with me through the hurt.

And I have been hurt. Not necessarily by the church. Just by life. And I think God has been with me. Or perhaps God is truly with us whenever we think to acknowledge God's presence. Really, I believe God is everywhere, all the time. That's the kind of God I believe in. A lot of times we feel without God simply because we have failed to see what's right under our noses - plenteous provision.



Baptism. A forgiveness. A rebirth. A cleansing. Baptism means that my past has no power over me. My past before my baptism, and my past since. Baptism means that the best is yet to come.

Baptism. A testimony. A loud proclamation of what God has done in my life and what God will do. In the waters of baptism I publicly proclaimed my belief in the Savior God, proclaimed His work in my life, and proclaimed bright hope for what lay ahead. Baptism is a testimony of God's faithfulness - past, present, and future.

Baptism. A covenant. A covenant to always remember the Lord and the work He has done for me. To always remember how the Lord has delivered me and saved me. How the Lord has given me worth when I felt I had none. How the Lord has organized and been sovereign over the details of my life. Remember.

Remember. Re-member. Come together, Baptism is a covenant to come together, with knowledge of my true self, with my God, and with God's people. At baptism I covenanted to re-member myself to God, and God promised to always re-member me. God promised to never leave my side. I promised to never forget God's presence at my side. How intimate and holy.

At baptism, I also covenanted to re-member God's people, to be present and vulnerable and true with the communion of saints. To take God's people as they are. To pursue authentic community, not just superficial "Hi, how are you?" This might be what I have failed most at. I'm not really a people person, or so I like to say. We're all people persons. God made us that way, to live in community, to live in relationship, to live face-to-face with other humans. That's why we Christians often describe God as a community - Father, Son, Holy Spirit - because that description rings to true to a reality that we have experienced in our lives.



For the past six months, I have been working in a Methodist Children's Ministry. Teaching children who God is, helping them discover God's character for themselves, sharing stories of Jesus, trying to answer brilliant questions, and honoring the season of Advent and Lent as a community. This has all been a joy. I have had the opportunity to research and think deeply about what I believe, who I am, and where God may want me. I don't think I'm Methodist, and that's okay.

I have loved immersing myself deeply into the liturgical calendar, which I'd never given much thought to in the past. I love the cycle of honoring seasons and seasonal changes. Our God is the God of seasons. Our world has seasons, how can we worship a God without or live a life without seasons? I love the liturgical calendar for the rhythm it gives me, the way it grounds and centers me to thinking deeply about certain subjects. In Advent and Lent, we have meditated on darkness.

In Advent, the world was dark and waiting for light. And then - light came! Just after the winter solstice, as light is returning to earth, we celebrate the birth of God's Light in our world! Then we had a short season of meditating on the life of Jesus and the things he did in a mortal body just like mine. What wonderful stories.

And now, we rest in Lent. We wait for Easter. We wait for spring. We wait for resurrection. We wait for God to bring new life.

We wait for baptism. We wait for April showers and May flowers. We wait for God to bring a cleansing on our lives and on our world. We wait as God does work that we cannot see, trusting that work is being done and that we will see the May flowers.

Spring is a time of baptism. Easter is a time of baptism. I now see why the Catholic tradition baptizes yearly on Easter Sunday. It makes so much sense.




You're the God of Seasons, my Lord.
Through summer and winter, through desert and harvest, though Advent and Lent,
          You are there.
My Lord and my God, I trust that you are working, even when I cannot see.
Work in me, Lord. Work in me and work in my life. Let me be a tool in Your hands.
Bring life from death, and let me be a field hand to aid Your work in the lives of others.



Three Years.

Prayer: Reflections for Lent - Yoga

Most people associate yoga with sweat, butts in faces, and maybe farts. We in the West have no idea. 

Yoga is an ancient practice originating from the Hindu religions of India. The word yoga comes from a Sanskrit word meaning “to yoke” or “to link.” Think yoking, like Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you.” The whole point of yoga is to be linked and yoked - mind to body, thinking self to the true or inner Self, human to the Ultimate Power, to God. 

In the West, we think of yoga as physical, something you do in workout clothes at the gym. But this is only a small part of what yoga actually is.

Yoga is a collection of “spiritual disciplines designed to clear the mind and support a state of serene, detached awareness . . . [and] balance, purity, wisdom, and peacefulness of mind." 

There are four basic types of yoga, or paths: raja, jnana, karma, and bhakti. 

Raja yoga is the path of mental concentration, or meditation. An ancient teacher of yoga describes eight “limbs” of yogic practice including moral codes, physical conditioning, breath control, concentration, meditation, and a “state of peaceful absorption.” The first limb, moral and ethical principles, are similar to what is found in spiritual paths worldwide - truth and honesty, not stealing, not coveting, devotion to God, and others. The second limb, physical conditioning, refers to asanas, or poses. This is what we Westerners usually think of when we think yoga. The other limbs refer to breathing, mantras, and other tools to focus concentration. 

It’s important to realize that at it’s core, yoga is for the mind and spirit - not the body. We often reduce yoga to a physical exercise, but in fact the physical portion is just a tool to achieve mental concentration, spiritual wisdom, and connection to the divine. 

Jnana yoga is the path of “rational inquiry.” While raja yoga attempts to transcend our rational mind to receive spiritual enlightenment, jnana yoga uses the mind as a tool to gain spiritual knowledge. This might be compared to philosophical or apologetic endeavors in Christianity. 

Karma yoga is the path of “helpful action in the world.” The two previous paths, raja and jnana, have been inward paths focusing on meditation and the self to gain enlightenment. Karma yoga grows closer to the divine by helping others. Mother Teresa is famous for acknowledge that she serves not the poor of Calcutta, but “Jesus in his most distressing disguise.” She knew that every action to those around her were actions done to Jesus - that is the path of karma yoga. 

Bhakti yoga is the path of personal devotion, and the most common among Hindus. This pathos one where the human is completely in love with and utterly devoted to a deity. One Hindu poem reads: “Thy Name is beautiful, The form is beautiful, and very beautiful is Thy love, Oh my Omnipresent Lord.” In this path, “the devotee’s whole being is surrendered to the deity in love.” This reminds me of the Hebrew “Song of Songs,” when it is interpreted as a song between the Lord and humanity, or of nuns who consecrate themselves as being “married to Jesus.” This is the path we follow when we sing songs of love and devotion:

“Heaven meets earth like a passionate kiss, and my heart beats violently inside of my chest, and I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves us.”  

“Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending reckless love of God - it chases me down, fights till I’m found.”  

“Jesus, we love you, oh how we love you. You are the one our hearts adore. . . . Our affection, our devotion, poured out on the feet of Jesus.” 

“How we love you, how we love you, how we want you, how we want you. . . . Your love we can no longer keep inside. It’s opened up our eyes; It makes us want to sing.”

As we can see, these three yogic paths - jnana, karma, and bhakti - have parallels which we are familiar with. Thus, I will focus now on the spiritual discipline of raja yoga. We are familiar with the first limb, the moral codes. In the West, our religions certainly require certain moral action. 

We don’t often think about how the asanas (poses), breathing exercises, and mantras can be used to facilitate connection to the Divine. And truthfully, I don’t know if I can explain how this happens. Maybe that’s something that I love about it - I don’t know how it works but I know that it does. I know that when I do sun salutations in the morning, my mood is lifted. I know that when I take time to be still, I touch something deep inside of me that is the same essence of that which is central to the soul of the Universe (wow, sounds wacky). But really, when I engage in this practice, I’m surrendered. I can’t push my body to do things it can’t do, and there’s no reason to. This is an exercise in radical acceptance - of my body, of my self, of my circumstances, of the people around me, of the world. This is a place for me to acknowledge that I am not in control - and come to terms with that. The long inhales and exhales slow my heart rate, slow my thoughts, slow my anxieties. It allows me to let go of my worries and hand them off to the Person who “will generously provide all [I] need” (2 Cor 9:8). 

I know that sometimes I wake up and I don’t know what to pray. I feel lost and broken and without words. So I sit cross-legged and say to the Almighty, “Lord, here I am. Surrendered.” And then I proceed to use this body that is a “temple of the Holy Spirit” and breathe this breath that is not mine but belongs to every living being collectively. I am connected to everything else by this breath, which comes into my lungs after being used by someone else, and which will leave my lungs to give life to someone else. This practice reminds me that we are all One. This life force, this breath, this ruach - it comes to me from the Divine. It connects me to the infinite, it connects everyone else to the infinite, and it connects all of us to one another. 

With this humbling reminder, with this use of my body for something good and beautiful, I am calmed. I have prayed, I have connected with the Divine, and I have been changed by the encounter. 

All quotes are from Mary Pat Fisher, Living Religions.

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This post is the second in a series, Prayer: Reflections for Lent, which explores prayer in a variety of ways. Click below to read previous posts: 

Part 1: A Story, a Goal, and a Plan 

Part 2: A Path of Prayer

Part 3: Using a Journal

Come back on Thursdays during Lent for the next post!