My last post explored the subject of betrayal, and this time I offer some thoughts on how to deal with this greatest (I believe) of all pains.
Here in the middle of Lent, as we journey towards Good Friday, I present a two-part series on the subject of betrayal.
On December 25, after watching that classic movie “A Christmas Story,” I sat with my family sharing stories about the best Christmas gifts we’d ever received.
Part of my quiet time every morning is given to reading a short section of some devotional book. Recently I’ve deeply enjoyed David McLaughlan’s No Ordinary People: The Unknown Men & Women of the Bible.
Who was Jesus’ best friend? My vote goes to Lazarus, the one He raised from the dead. Yes, John was the “disciple Jesus loved,” but he was a disciple, a learner, a junior.
An American fifth-grader once wrote to C.S. Lewis asking if it were possible to visit Narnia. Lewis replied that the only way, as far as he knew, was through death. But then he added a curious qualifier: “Perhaps some very good people get just a tiny glimpse before then.”
Lately I’ve been savoring Thomas Traherne’s book Centuries of Meditations, in a wonderful contemporary edition by David Buresh called Waking Up in Heaven. I heartily agree with what C.S. Lewis wrote about this book, calling it “almost the most beautiful book in the English language. I could go on quoting from it forever.”
Personally, I am not in the habit of observing Lent in any formal way. I do not give up chocolate or coffee or anything else—at least, not intentionally. But willy-nilly I always end up surrendering something, because that is what Lent does: it drives us, as it did Jesus, into the wilderness.
Many years ago the Lord revealed to me my besetting sin, and He did so through, of all people, a satanist.