Perfume Poured, Judas Sneers, Jesus Saves (6 april)
What’s a year’s wages worth to you? Mary pours out a fortune in perfume on Jesus’ feet, a reckless act of faith that Judas sniffs at with sanctimonious scorn: “Why not sell it for the poor?” But peel back his words, and there’s the rot selfishness masked as virtue. Sound familiar? We’re quick to judge, to hoard, to calculate what’s in it for us, even when we cloak it in “good intentions.” The Law doesn’t let us off the hook: like Judas, we’re bound to sin, accusing others to dodge our own guilt. Lent strips us bare there’s no hiding from the mirror of God’s truth.
Yet Jesus steps in: “Leave her alone.” With those words, He shuts the devil’s mouth and defends Mary and us. Her perfume isn’t her righteousness; Christ is. He’s headed to the cross, where our greed, our doubt, our petty accusations die with Him. Lazarus sits there, living proof that death bends the knee to Jesus. This is the Gospel’s sweet relief: your worth isn’t in what you give or do, but in what Christ has done bled, died, and risen. In these waning days of Lent, we don’t scramble to save ourselves; we cling to the Saviour who already has.
So pour it out your time, your love, your stuff not to earn a thing, but because you’re free. Judas counted coins; Mary trusted Christ. The devil will whisper you’re not enough, but Jesus says otherwise. As Holy Week looms, take up the guide, hear the Word, and walk to the cross. Repentance isn’t despair. It’s turning to the One who’s enough. The Law stings, the Gospel heals, and faith? It just might make you reckless in all the right ways. Amen.
We Pray For:
† The light of Christ would shine in our community, so that our friends and neighbours may know with us the joy of new life.
† All who are in distress/dying/sick, that they may be strengthened by the sufferings of Christ.
† All Christians, that they may follow the way of the cross.
† The light of Christ to shine into the darkness of human hearts, wherever deeds of greed, oppression and injustice are being planned.
† The courts of our land, for judges, magistrates and lawyers.
Yet Jesus steps in: “Leave her alone.” With those words, He shuts the devil’s mouth and defends Mary and us. Her perfume isn’t her righteousness; Christ is. He’s headed to the cross, where our greed, our doubt, our petty accusations die with Him. Lazarus sits there, living proof that death bends the knee to Jesus. This is the Gospel’s sweet relief: your worth isn’t in what you give or do, but in what Christ has done bled, died, and risen. In these waning days of Lent, we don’t scramble to save ourselves; we cling to the Saviour who already has.
So pour it out your time, your love, your stuff not to earn a thing, but because you’re free. Judas counted coins; Mary trusted Christ. The devil will whisper you’re not enough, but Jesus says otherwise. As Holy Week looms, take up the guide, hear the Word, and walk to the cross. Repentance isn’t despair. It’s turning to the One who’s enough. The Law stings, the Gospel heals, and faith? It just might make you reckless in all the right ways. Amen.
We Pray For:
† The light of Christ would shine in our community, so that our friends and neighbours may know with us the joy of new life.
† All who are in distress/dying/sick, that they may be strengthened by the sufferings of Christ.
† All Christians, that they may follow the way of the cross.
† The light of Christ to shine into the darkness of human hearts, wherever deeds of greed, oppression and injustice are being planned.
† The courts of our land, for judges, magistrates and lawyers.
The Donkey King Who Defies Your Expectations (13 april)
Wave your palms if you dare, but don’t be fooled—Palm Sunday isn’t your victory lap. The crowd shouted “Hosanna!” expecting a warrior king to crush Rome. They got a donkey-rider instead. You want a God who rewards your goodness? Too bad. Jesus doesn’t care for your résumé. The Law screams, “Prove yourself!” but you can’t. Sin’s got you pinned, and your pious palm-waving won’t change that.
Here’s the shock: This King comes just with salvation (Zechariah 9:9). Not triumphant by your standards, not meek to appease evil—He’s zedek (just) as Yeshua (Jesus), justifying you apart from the Law. He rides in humble, not to flex weakness, but to flex grace. He’s not here to judge your failures; He’s here to take them to the cross. Luther nails it: Christ’s righteousness isn’t locked in heaven—He brings it to you, sinner.
So demand it! Tell me, your pastor, “Give me Christ’s word, not your advice!” I’ll absolve you: “Your sins are forgiven.” That’s His promise, not your paycheck. Hosanna isn’t your bribe to God—it’s what spills out when you hear He’s saved you. This King doesn’t conquer by force but by forgiving rebels like us.
Holy Week looms. The donkey trots toward Calvary. Wave your palms, shout your amens—but know this: Your salvation rides on Him, not you.
Here’s the shock: This King comes just with salvation (Zechariah 9:9). Not triumphant by your standards, not meek to appease evil—He’s zedek (just) as Yeshua (Jesus), justifying you apart from the Law. He rides in humble, not to flex weakness, but to flex grace. He’s not here to judge your failures; He’s here to take them to the cross. Luther nails it: Christ’s righteousness isn’t locked in heaven—He brings it to you, sinner.
So demand it! Tell me, your pastor, “Give me Christ’s word, not your advice!” I’ll absolve you: “Your sins are forgiven.” That’s His promise, not your paycheck. Hosanna isn’t your bribe to God—it’s what spills out when you hear He’s saved you. This King doesn’t conquer by force but by forgiving rebels like us.
Holy Week looms. The donkey trots toward Calvary. Wave your palms, shout your amens—but know this: Your salvation rides on Him, not you.
The Tomb’s a Bust, Christ’s Alive for Us! (20 april)
Forget the tomb—it’s empty, and not in a comforting way. Easter isn’t about staring at a vacated grave, wondering where Jesus went. The women ran from that hole in the ground, trembling, because death’s grip felt real, and their sins still stung. The law’s cold shadow loomed large: Sabbath rules, ritual spices, a stone too heavy to budge. That’s where we’re stuck too mired in guilt, fear, and the stink of our failures. Easter doesn’t tiptoe around that mess; it smashes it. The earth quaked, the angel preached, and Jesus didn’t stay buried. He’s not a corpse to anoint but a warrior who ate death and spit out life.
Here’s the kicker: Jesus isn’t just risen—He’s risen for you. Not some abstract victory lap, but a personal jailbreak. He meets you, like those women, not with a scolding for your doubts but with a word: “Rejoice, be free!” Your sins? He took them, nailed them, killed them. Death? He swallowed it whole. The devil? Bound and gagged. This isn’t a story to nod at; it’s a promise to grab hold of. When the preacher says, “Your sins are forgiven,” that’s Jesus Himself yanking you out of the grave. Easter’s no theory—it’s Christ crashing into your life, saying, “I did this for you, and you’re mine.”
So, let’s ditch the tomb-gazing and feast on the living Christ. He’s not stuck in history or hiding in heaven—He’s here, in the word, in the bread, in the wine, handing out freedom like it’s candy. Run to Galilee, to this altar, where He meets you with scars and a smile. Sing loud, laugh hard, because death’s a busted myth, and you’re alive in Him. This Easter, we’re not mourning a martyr; we’re worshiping a King who dragged us into His victory. Hallelujah, the grave’s a flop, and we’re free!
Here’s the kicker: Jesus isn’t just risen—He’s risen for you. Not some abstract victory lap, but a personal jailbreak. He meets you, like those women, not with a scolding for your doubts but with a word: “Rejoice, be free!” Your sins? He took them, nailed them, killed them. Death? He swallowed it whole. The devil? Bound and gagged. This isn’t a story to nod at; it’s a promise to grab hold of. When the preacher says, “Your sins are forgiven,” that’s Jesus Himself yanking you out of the grave. Easter’s no theory—it’s Christ crashing into your life, saying, “I did this for you, and you’re mine.”
So, let’s ditch the tomb-gazing and feast on the living Christ. He’s not stuck in history or hiding in heaven—He’s here, in the word, in the bread, in the wine, handing out freedom like it’s candy. Run to Galilee, to this altar, where He meets you with scars and a smile. Sing loud, laugh hard, because death’s a busted myth, and you’re alive in Him. This Easter, we’re not mourning a martyr; we’re worshiping a King who dragged us into His victory. Hallelujah, the grave’s a flop, and we’re free!
Peace That Unlocks Your Prison (27 april)
On this Second Sunday of Easter, we meet the disciples cowering behind locked doors, terrified of the risen Jesus whom they betrayed. Like them, we build fortresses of fear, hiding from God’s judgment under the law’s accusing glare. But Jesus crashes through our barriers, proclaiming, “Peace be with you!” This is no mere greeting—it’s the Gospel, the end of our warfare with God, sealed in His wounds that bear our sins. The law locks us in; Christ’s forgiveness sets us free.
Jesus doesn’t stop there. He breathes His Spirit on His disciples, handing them the keys to unlock hearts: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.” These keys aren’t just for apostles but for all believers, especially through the preached Word and absolution. When Thomas doubts, Jesus doesn’t wait for him to “get it”—He speaks, and doubt becomes confession: “My Lord and my God!” So too, Christ meets your unbelief with His promise, turning you from fear to faith through His bodily presence in Word and Sacrament.
Receive this peace today. Your sins are on Christ, defeated in His wounds, not yours to carry. Hear the absolution as His voice, unlocking your prison. Then go, use these keys—forgive others, share the Gospel, and live in the life He gives. The risen Christ is not your judge but your Savior, and His peace is yours now and forever. Amen.
Jesus doesn’t stop there. He breathes His Spirit on His disciples, handing them the keys to unlock hearts: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.” These keys aren’t just for apostles but for all believers, especially through the preached Word and absolution. When Thomas doubts, Jesus doesn’t wait for him to “get it”—He speaks, and doubt becomes confession: “My Lord and my God!” So too, Christ meets your unbelief with His promise, turning you from fear to faith through His bodily presence in Word and Sacrament.
Receive this peace today. Your sins are on Christ, defeated in His wounds, not yours to carry. Hear the absolution as His voice, unlocking your prison. Then go, use these keys—forgive others, share the Gospel, and live in the life He gives. The risen Christ is not your judge but your Savior, and His peace is yours now and forever. Amen.