Christ knows that he will be betrayed. He is about to be handed over to those who have it in for him. And tomorrow night, he will pray a prayer: Let this cup pass from me. Jesus dreads his death. He begs to be rescued. This can be easy to forget because we know the ending and because he accepts what he receives, when he is sure it is his to receive, in such astonishing quietness.

But God has given us, and Jesus shares, a good, natural resistance to death, pain, and suffering. Who could feel the wrongs of death more than the one “through whom all things exist” (Hebrews 2:10)? Just as a Lenten fast is not about giving up something bad (which can be done anytime), but about temporarily setting aside something good and natural, so Jesus finishes laying down his life, including his ability to preserve and defend it, perfecting his obedience and letting the Father bring whatever result he will.

Rather than an embrace of destruction or a suicide mission, Christians throughout history have seen Christ’s Passion as medicine. In order to restore us to life, Jesus cries out, “O LORD, do not delay!” not only for himself but also on behalf of all of us. And the answer he receives is to be, for us, that very savior he cries for and to trust the Father, beyond all hope, to be his.

Inhabit (a devotional journal for Lent by Dwell)

In honor of this season, I will be posting inspiring music for most of the next 40 days. I hope you’ll use this music as an opportunity to quiet and settle yourself; for contemplation, preparation, and thanksgiving. May you be encouraged and realize the felt presence of Peace and Love as you hear the music; may you hear the message meant for you in each of the musical offerings. Wishing you peace and every good!

HUMANS ARE FORGETFUL BEINGS. Sometimes our forgetfulness is fairly innocent: misplaced keys, a lost phone, or a wrong turn. At other times, our absentmindedness has a greater and costlier impact: missed family milestones, neglected relationships, or lapsed promises. And perhaps most significantly, it is possible for us to forget God.

We may live and breath and journey through life, yet do so entirely unaware of the nearness of God and his desire to be known by us. Into this spiritual amnesia, the Psalms today are a source of incredible hope. Though we may forget God and fail to remember him, he remembers us and sustains our every moment.

Any movement away from forgetfulness and into a true knowledge of who we are in Christ is celebrated and cherished by our Lord. God remembers our offerings (Ps 20:3), even when we forget them. Though our hearts and minds may stray, he delights in our movement towards his mercy and in love and gentleness reminds us of who we are in him.

In this way, Lent is a journey of remembrance. As our Lord remembers, knows, and upholds us, our memory is restored to us. Quite literally, we are re-membered as we are held in the memory of God. We learn, slowly but surely, who we are and whose we are.

Inhabit (a devotional journal for Lent by Dwell)