Have you ever had a moment when you are really going through something that seems needless or meaningless? When we’re actually going through those moments, we wonder why God is doing something a particular way, or why it’s happening to us at all. It’s often that when we gain the perspective that only time and persevering with the Lord can bring that we actually see what He was doing. We look back and see that our struggles and our suffering was refining us and working something out within us. We were learning lessons in those moments that we couldn’t have learned if everything was at an even keel.

When we think of ourselves in light of who God is, how do we see ourselves? Do we consider ourselves children and heirs? Do we see ourselves through the lens of the salvation Jesus won us and extended to us? Do we view ourselves as conquerors and overcomers? Do we see busy servants that are continuing Christ’s work through the talents God gifted us with? Do we see ourselves the way John saw Himself: humbly and in light of how seriously we fall short of Jesus’ magnificence?

Sometimes, we Christians have a bad habit of applying our personal politics too liberally to scripture. And I get it, this country was founded on Christian principles. It’s woven into the foundations of what we once were and there are many in the Church today that are desperately wanting to see our nation return to its Christian values.

But sometimes, for the sake of an argument, we go too far.

It’s so easy to read through the Old Testament and completely dismiss the laws, or the bloodlines, or the endless lists of parameters set in place for Israel. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read through the latter half of Exodus or the books of Leviticus or Numbers with glazed over eyes, reading it for just the surface value of what was going on. In truth, when you look below the surface value of Old Testament law, and you read it while asking yourself, “What does this show me about Jesus? Where is the cross and the gospel in this?” That’s when scripture begins to burst open and you can really see how God’s love and plan to redeem us is pouring out of every verse.

It took Israel three months from their exodus of Egypt until they took up residence around Mount Sinai. In those three months, they saw the end of their slavery, deliverance from Egypt, they walked across the Red Sea, witnessed God’s miraculous provision of food and water, and won a war in God’s name. They saw evidence upon evidence of God’s love and care for them; His strength and power over their enemies and yet His protection over this chosen nation. Israel would go on to spend a long time in the wilderness of Sinai and a lot of their societal structure would be established there. Nevertheless, God wanted to meet His people at Mount Sinai the way He met Moses from within the burning bush.

When Sam and I were dating or newly married, whenever we went somewhere– be it a park, a concert, or an amusement park– Sam would without fail ask me to put his car keys in my purse. And then he’d ask me to hold his phone… and his wallet. It would always annoy me, because my bag would be brimming with someone else’s stuff. And Sam wasn’t the only person to do it. I’d have friends who would do it too. I guess it’s prone to happen when you’re the one in the group that always carries a bag. That bag was a safe place to keep those items people didn’t want to lose. And they would have been correct, because nothing was ever misplaced when it was in my bag.

Imagine you have a huge debt. I’m talking six figures. Whatever it is– medical, educational, a mortgage– it is crushing and the interest rate on it means that you will be paying it off for the rest of your life. The payments on that debt are so high that you will have to work and work and work around the clock to try and make it. Forget about vacations, luxury items, and eating meals out. You’re just lucky to have food on your table. Everything you think about, do, and work towards seems to have that debt looming over it, shadowing everything. No hope, no relief, no peace.

As far as the disciples go, Peter is probably the most well known. He’s memorable, he’s relatable, and he’s known for both his passionate faith in Christ and his antics. He walked on water, but he almost drowned because he got wrapped up in the moment and took his focus off Jesus. He was a fisherman, the “rock” on which the early church is built, and one of Jesus’ closest friends. He cut off the ear of one of the soldiers who showed up to arrest Jesus. But probably most notably, he’s the guy that denied Christ three times mere hours after the whole group was together in the upper room at the Last Supper. It’s hard to imagine, but it took less than a day to go from that intimate Passover meal to Christ’s arrest and the subsequent scattering of all the disciples. By the time Christ’s trial in front of the Sanhedrin took place, only Peter was left to follow Him, and even then, he followed at a distance.

Can you stop in the middle of a task and change gears? I know that’s something I struggle with. If my husband calls from the other room, I usually say I need a couple minutes, or ask him to let me finish this one thing first. I don’t do well leaving something undone, or almost done. My tunnel vision makes it hard for me to walk away from loose ends. So when I read the above verses, part of me wonders whether I’d be able to drop my nets and my boat in order to follow someone indefinitely. But when I think on it, this is something that isn’t out of the ordinary when it comes to scripture.

I always find it silly when I’m talking about Jesus to someone and they say something along the lines of, “I can’t be a Christian. God doesn’t want me. I’m too far gone for all that.” In theory, I can understand what they mean, and I can sympathize with the fact that someone thinks they are outside of God’s love for them or that they’ve done something to disqualify them from being a part of what God is doing. We might all feel like that at some time or another– caught up in our flesh and sin, knowing we have done wrong– and felt that there was no way Jesus could save us after knowing how despicable we are. To feel that way is to not understand what Jesus did on the cross, and the full extent of that salvation extended.

I wanted to return to John, chapter 1 this week to finish up the little section that we’d been reading through together. I know, these opening verses seem so simple in nature, but they were really radical at the time they were written, and they really peel back parts of the gospel that might seem overplayed to us at times today.

I’ve probably said this before, but Ruth is one of my favorite books in the Bible. Some people disagree. I’ve heard some people pull out some really questionable theology out of this book and completely twist it completely out of context. The truth is, at its heart, the Book of Ruth is a beautiful metaphor of God’s redemptive plan and one woman’s resilience and tenacity.

I have to say, one of my favorite things about this story is not just the amazing faith seen from both Abraham and Isaac, but the way that this story– found in one of the first chapters we ever see of scripture– is soobviously a story about Jesus at the beginning of it all. Do you see it? If not, read today’s verses again. Because in every way it can be, this story is a tit for tat retelling of the story of Jesus’ ultimate work on the cross– more than 30 generations before it ever happened.

A few years ago, my childhood pastor gave a sermon on the controversial Old Testament vs. New Testament debate. You know, the one where one side of the fence thinks we can just throw away the Old Testament and only study the New Testament, because it’s the new covenant that replaces the old. The other side of the fence thinks that the inclusion of the New Testament in the Bible is a contradiction to God’s original word. One side believes that God is lawful judgement, and to focus too much on His love is to water down His sovereign word. The other believes that God is love, and to dwell too much in the Old Testament covenant is a decision to not see God in the fullness of His character.

Truth time: Recently, I realized how numb I can become to the goodness of God. It was the week of Good Friday. My family and I watched “The Passion of the Christ.” Funny, how a confrontation with the cross can realign us and set us straight. As much as I hate to say this, as I became a teenager, I forgot the importance of that sacrifice. I felt as if it was just another story in a book. I never really thought about the whole meaning behind it or realized that if it weren’t for God’s sacrifice, I wouldn't have eternal life. I wouldn't be able to say that I don't have to punish myself because I’ve sinned over and over again.

“It’s not a holiday. It’s a day of chocolate bunnies and eggs.” Those were the real-life words that came out of a coworkers mouth in my office this week. It was one of those things that pulled my mind straight out of what it was doing and into the world happening around me.