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.

Blessed are those who mourn… It might seem sort of contradictory. How can it be possible to mourn and yet be blessed? If we’re mourning, it would mean we lost something, right? And losing something or someone to the point of grief can’t be something Jesus wants for us, let alone something He blesses us with. Yes, when Jesus says blessed are those who mourn, He means real and harrowing heartache. The word He uses in the Greek is “pentheó” which means a deep, personal grief over a death or a hope that dies. It is a grief so severe that it takes possession of the person and cannot be hidden.

When we’re little kids, temptation looks innocent. Maybe it’s the late afternoon, dinner is in the oven and the table is set, but your mind just can’t get off of that jar of cookies on the counter. You try to resist temptation, thinking of how your mother would tell you no, but then you think to yourself that just one won’t ruin your appetite. Maybe you can just sneak one and no one will ever know. So you reach your hand in and grab it, but then think to yourself that you’ll probably want more– because just one won’t be enough when you could have three– and you swipe two more. Maybe you get away with it. Maybe your mom doesn’t find out.

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.

When it comes to the opening chapters of the Bible, Eve always gets a bad wrap. And no, I’m not looking to play a blame game today over who caused the fall of man, but this week, I re-read this story and a lot of things jumped out at me that I’d like to take some time to look at. I don’t necessarily want to call this whole thing a “series,” but I might possibly take more than one week to unpack it.

Hey Pops, I’ve been frustrated recently, remembering where I’ve been in the past and not feeling like I’m there before. I know that I shouldn’t compare where I used to be with where I am now, but sometimes, I can’t help it. I feel like I should be deeper, more confident, or more satisfied. To be honest, I can’t put my finger on exactly what I feel is missing or why I can’t seem to stir myself up to enjoy you more consistently.

So this whole time, we’ve been talking about the fig tree, and how the Lord never puts anything to waste in the scriptures. Everything thas a Kingdom-minded meaning. What might seem random to us, upon pressing deeper, turns out to have a much deeper meaning. What I think is so unique in Mark 11, is that we get to see one of those random, unassuming parts of scripture become the practical application in just a few short verses.

I think my favorite part about Jesus is that He does very intentional things in a roundabout way. The course of action He takes is almost never the one we would, but it always seems to work out better than what we could have ever forced together in our own strength. It’s because He sees the whole picture. We see dust, He sees an opportunity for life. We see a storm, He sees an opportunity to teach. We see a cross and a tomb, He sees grace and eternal life. So when the paralytic man in Mark 2 is lowered through the roof to sit right in front of Jesus, everyone expects Jesus to heal this man’s broken body. Instead, Jesus throws us a curveball.

When we enter into a relationship with God, we truly learn about ourselves. Being in union with our creator forces us to be self-aware and allows us to evolve into our true identity each and every day. In this process, we sometimes face a lot of hard truths about who we are and how we can act. We see the ugly that lies within us.

“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.

No matter how long you’ve been a Christian– whether you’re on day one or decades from the starting line– everyone that has ever followed Jesus is unified by at least this fact: none of us have ever graduated from the point of salvation. Because no matter how long your spiritual resume is, it is unavoidable that you will struggle with your own tendency towards sin until the day you die. Maybe that’s blunt or depressing, but it’s true. There will never be a point in this life where you will be able to think, “Well, that’s it. I’ve done it. I’ve obtained a wholly righteous and upright lifestyle. I will no longer struggle with sin.”

Last week, I went to speak at the local university where I live. In the weeks leading up to that night, I was praying over what the Lord wanted me to say. These people attend a college chock-full of calculating minds and scientific brains, all ready to disprove God, faith, and the Bible. Some of them are exchange students, young adults that left their countries to experience America and are testing Christianity after childhoods spent in different religions. Some grew up across America, church kids through-and-through. They grew up in Sunday school and knew the Bible. Some were most likely skeptical and questioning. Even more were probably just going through the motions and trying to check a “God-box” to satisfy some idea of an obligation.

Lately, I’ve been reading through Romans and truly loving every minute of it. Each chapter and verse has so much depth and meaning and has encouraged me to draw nearer to God in all I do, and this morning want to share what I’ve been finding with you. I want you to take a moment to let yourself think of the worst thing you’ve done– the biggest amount of shame you’ve ever felt. Remember those feelings you may have felt of regret, unworthiness, or embarrassment. Try to feel the weight it put upon your shoulders; the burden it may of caused you.