by Eron Henry | Mar 26, 2025 | Lent 2025
Throughout Scripture, displacement emerges as a recurring motif. Far from being incidental, these experiences of forced migration, exile, and refugee status reveal truths about God’s character and commitment to the dislocated.
The biblical story begins with displacement—Adam and Eve expelled from Eden—and continues with Abraham’s call to leave his homeland for an unknown destination. Abraham’s identity as a “wandering Aramean” (Deuteronomy 26:5) establishes a pattern where divine purpose unfolds through geographic dislocation. His journey reminds us that displacement, while disorienting, can be the very context where divine promises take root.
Israel’s formative experience as slaves in Egypt further deepens this theme. God explicitly identifies with their displaced condition: “I have surely seen the affliction of my people… and have heard their cry” (Exodus 3:7). This divine attentiveness to the suffering of the displaced becomes a cornerstone of Israel’s understanding of God. The exodus narrative teaches that God not only sees displacement but actively intervenes to bring liberation and restoration.
The Babylonian exile represents another pivotal moment of displacement. Through prophets like Jeremiah, God instructs the exiles to “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you” (Jeremiah 29:7) while simultaneously promising eventual return. This tension between present engagement and future restoration offers wisdom for navigating prolonged displacement with both realistic acceptance and enduring hope.
The Gospel narratives continue this theme when the infant Jesus becomes a refugee in Egypt, fleeing Herod’s violence. Matthew’s account deliberately connects Jesus to Israel’s exodus, suggesting that in Christ, God not only accompanies the displaced but becomes displaced. The incarnation itself represents divine solidarity with human dislocation.
Early Christians, described as “strangers and exiles on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13), transformed their experience of displacement into a theological identity. They understood themselves as citizens of a heavenly kingdom whose values often placed them at odds with dominant culture. Their displacement became not just a circumstance to endure but a witness to an alternative social reality.
These biblical narratives offer comfort and orientation for the displaced today. They reveal a God who consistently accompanies the uprooted, validates their suffering, promises restoration, and transforms displacement into the very soil where new communities and identities can flourish. In a world where displacement continues to define millions of lives, these ancient stories speak with renewed relevance and hope.
Prayer
God of Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, You who have witnessed every forced journey and heard every exile’s cry, we bring before You the displaced peoples of our world.
For those torn from their homelands by violence, persecution, and disaster, be as You were for Israel in Egypt, the God who sees affliction and hears suffering. For families crossing borders with nothing but hope and heartache, be as You were for the infant Jesus, providing refuge and protection in strange lands.
When displacement breeds despair, remind Your people that You travel with them. When borders seem impenetrable, recall for us how You have always made ways through wilderness. When the journey feels endless, whisper the promise of restoration that You spoke through the prophets.
Grant to the displaced not just survival but flourishing, not just tolerance but welcome, not just assistance but justice.
Give wisdom to those in places of temporary refuge, as You counseled the exiles in Babylon, to seek the welfare of the places where they dwell while holding their hope of return.
Remind Your church of our identity as strangers and pilgrims, that we might recognize Christ in the face of every displaced person, and build communities where the uprooted can find belonging.
Until that day when all can dwell securely under their own vines and fig trees, be the constant companion of those who journey far from home.
In the name of Jesus, who had nowhere to lay His head.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 25, 2025 | Lent 2025
No one escapes suffering, whether through physical pain, emotional anguish, relational fracture, or spiritual darkness. Christian tradition offers a distinctive perspective on suffering through the person of Jesus, who not only experienced agonizing suffering but transformed our understanding of it.
The writer of Hebrews captures this idea perfectly, encouraging believers to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame” (Hebrews 12:2). What makes Jesus’ example so powerful is not merely that He suffered, but how He suffered with purpose, dignity, and unwavering trust in God’s ultimate purposes.
Jesus’ journey to the cross reveals several dimensions of faithful endurance. First, He remained honest about suffering’s reality. In Gethsemane, He didn’t minimize His anguish but acknowledged it fully: “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). This gives us permission to name our pain rather than denying it.
Second, Jesus maintained communion with God throughout His ordeal. His prayers in Gethsemane and His cries from the cross (“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”) demonstrate that suffering doesn’t require spiritual stoicism. Honest lament remains an authentic expression of faith.
Third, Jesus oriented Himself toward a larger purpose beyond immediate relief. “For the joy set before Him” suggests that endurance becomes possible when suffering is contextualized within a broader narrative of redemption. Our sufferings, like His, can participate in purposes that transcend our immediate circumstances.
Perhaps most importantly, Jesus’ resurrection transforms our understanding of suffering’s finality. Without diminishing suffering’s reality, the empty tomb declares that suffering does not have the last word. The God who raised Jesus promises that our tears, too, will eventually be wiped away.
When we look to Jesus in our darkest moments, we find not a distant deity untouched by pain, but one who “has been tempted in every way, just as we are” (Hebrews 4:15). His example offers not just inspiration but identification, the assurance that whatever valley we walk through, we follow footsteps already imprinted there. In this lies our hope and strength to persevere.
Prayer
Faithful God,
When the weight of suffering bears down upon us and the path ahead seems too difficult to walk, help us fix our eyes on Jesus, who endured the cross for the joy set before Him.
Thank You that we do not follow a Savior who is unfamiliar with pain. In our darkest valleys and most troubled nights, remind us that Jesus walked this way before us, honest in His anguish, steadfast in His faith.
When we are tempted to hide our suffering behind masks of false strength, grant us the courage to be truthful about our pain, as Jesus was in Gethsemane. When words fail us, may we remember that even Christ cried out in moments of desolation.
Help us maintain communion with You even when we feel most abandoned. Teach us to pray through our tears and to trust beyond our understanding. Like Jesus, may we seek Your presence especially when it seems most distant.
When we cannot see purpose in our pain, give us faith to believe that our suffering is not meaningless. May we glimpse, even dimly, the redemptive possibilities that lie beyond our present circumstances.
And in our moments of deepest despair, whisper to us the promise of resurrection, that suffering, however real and raw, does not have the final word in our story.
We look to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who transformed suffering through faithful endurance. In His name we pray, trusting in Your mercy that sustains us through every trial.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 24, 2025 | Lent 2025
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John chapter 1 presents four distinct recognitions of Jesus, each deeper than the last. When Andrew and his companion first approach Jesus, they address Him simply as “Rabbi” or Teacher (v. 38). This represents the initial way many encounter Jesus—as a wise instructor whose teachings merit attention. The title acknowledges Jesus’s authority to interpret truth, but remains within familiar religious categories.
Soon after, Andrew declares to his brother Simon: “We have found the Messiah” (v. 41). This recognition elevates Jesus from respected teacher to the long-awaited anointed one of Israel. The title carries political and eschatological significance, identifying Jesus as the fulfillment of national hopes and divine promises.
Philip further expands this understanding when he tells Nathanael: “We have found Him of whom Moses in the Law and also the prophets wrote” (v. 45). This recognition places Jesus as the prophet like Moses promised in Deuteronomy 18:15, the culmination of Israel’s prophetic tradition and the authoritative interpreter of divine law.
The crescendo comes with Nathanael’s confession: “Rabbi, You are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (v. 49). This dual acknowledgment transcends previous titles, recognizing both Jesus’s divine identity and royal authority. Nathanael’s confession anticipates the Gospel’s central claim about Jesus’s unique relationship with the Father.
Yet Jesus suggests even these exalted titles don’t capture His full identity. He promises Nathanael: “You will see greater things than these… heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man” (vv. 50-51). The allusion to Jacob’s ladder indicates Jesus as the connection point between heaven and earth, the place where divine and human realms meet.
This progression reveals something deep about spiritual understanding. Our recognition of Jesus rarely comes in a single moment of complete comprehension but unfolds through ongoing encounter. We begin with partial insights that gradually deepen. The journey from seeing Jesus as teacher to acknowledging Him as divine Son mirrors the path many believers travel, a progressive revelation that continues to unfold throughout John’s Gospel and in our own lives of faith.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You who revealed Yourself gradually to those first disciples, we come before You with hearts open to deeper understanding.
When we first meet You as Teacher, grant us the humility to sit at Your feet and learn. May we follow You and embrace your teaching.
As You revealed Yourself as Messiah, open our eyes to recognize You as the fulfillment of ancient promises. May we share our discoveries with eager hearts.
When You appear as Prophet, help us see how You fulfill the law and the prophets. May we invite others to encounter You beyond the limitations of our preconceptions.
And as You stand revealed as Son of God and King of Israel, may we move from skepticism to sincere confession, recognizing Your divine nature and authority.
Yet we know that even these titles cannot contain You. Expand our vision to glimpse the greater things You promised.
Guide us through each stage of knowing You more fully. When we settle for partial understanding, draw us deeper. When we think we have You figured out, surprise us with new facets of Your glory.
May our journey with You continue to unfold, until that day when we shall know fully, even as we are fully known.
Amen.
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by Eron Henry | Mar 23, 2025 | Lent 2025
Within the Jewish prophetic tradition, figures like Amos and Isaiah spoke with uncompromising moral clarity, confronting kings and challenging social systems that failed to embody divine justice. To understand Jesus of Nazareth fully, we must recognize Him as standing firmly within this prophetic heritage.
Like Amos, Jesus confronted economic exploitation and religious hypocrisy. Amos thundered, “They sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals” (Amos 2:6), condemning an economic system that treated vulnerable people as commodities. Jesus similarly overturned the tables in the Temple, denouncing the exploitation that had infiltrated sacred spaces. Both spoke from the margins—Amos as a shepherd from Tekoa, Jesus as a woodworker from Nazareth—yet addressed the centers of power with divine authority.
Like Isaiah, Jesus proclaimed a vision of God’s reign that would transform society. Isaiah’s vision of swords beaten into plowshares finds resonance in Jesus’ teachings about the Kingdom of God, a realm where the first become last, enemies are loved, and the poor receive good news. Both prophets embodied their message through symbolic actions that made their words visible and undeniable.
The prophetic tradition emphasized that authentic worship is inseparable from social justice. “I hate, I despise your religious festivals,” declared Amos, “But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:21,24). Jesus echoed this sentiment when He quoted Hosea: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13).
Jesus’ self-understanding appears deeply shaped by the prophetic calling. His inaugural sermon in Nazareth deliberately invoked Isaiah’s vision of liberation and jubilee. His parables challenged conventional assumptions about power, wealth, and status, continuing the prophetic tradition of subverting dominant narratives with alternative visions of reality.
Recognizing Jesus as Hebrew prophet doesn’t diminish other claims about His identity but enriches them. It grounds His ministry in the soil of Israel’s ongoing covenant relationship with God and reveals the continuity between His message and the ethical monotheism championed by His prophetic predecessors. In Jesus, the prophetic voice of Israel reaches its fullest expression— calling for justice, mercy, and faithful relationship with God and neighbor.
Prayer
Holy One of Israel,
You who spoke through the voices of Amos and Isaiah, who thundered justice through the prophets of old, we come before You with hearts open to Your prophetic word.
We give thanks for Jesus of Nazareth, faithful Hebrew prophet, who stood in the long line of those who spoke truth to power. Like Amos, He challenged the marketplaces that exploit the vulnerable. Like Isaiah, He proclaimed Your vision of peace and restoration.
Grant us ears to hear the prophetic call that echoes through the centuries, that demands justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
When we are comfortable with systems that oppress, disturb us with Your prophetic voice. When we separate worship from justice, remind us that You desire mercy, not sacrifice.
Help us to see as Jesus saw. To recognize the widow’s mite, to value the marginalized, to overturn the tables of exploitation in our own time. May we, like Him, proclaim good news to the poor, freedom for captives, and liberation for the oppressed.
Make us students of Your prophets, guardians of Your covenant, and practitioners of the justice and mercy that Jesus embodied. May we learn from the soil of Israel’s faith where Your prophetic word took root and flowered.
In the name of Jesus, Hebrew prophet and fulfillment of prophecy, we pray.
Amen.
by Eron Henry | Mar 22, 2025 | Lent 2025
The church, when true to its calling, exists as a countercultural community that defies the dominant narratives of power, consumerism, and individualism. Yet this defiance springs not from hatred or fear but from a profound love for God, for neighbor, and for creation.
Jesus exemplified this loving defiance throughout His ministry. He defied religious legalism while affirming the spirit of the law. He challenged the powerful while embracing the marginalized. His ultimate act of loving defiance came through the cross, submitting to death while simultaneously subverting its finality.
When churches embody loving defiance, they follow this pattern. They reject the logic of empire while offering an alternative rooted in radical hospitality. They stand firm against injustice while remaining open to reconciliation. They speak truth to power while maintaining humility about their own limitations.
This posture requires both courage and tenderness. It means creating spaces where genuine community can flourish amid a fractured society. It means practicing forgiveness while refusing to normalize harm. It means celebrating beauty and goodness while naming brokenness honestly.
The church as communities of loving defiance doesn’t merely criticize what is wrong but demonstrates what is possible. In doing so, it bears witness to a Kingdom both present and yet to come, a reality where love defies every force that diminishes human flourishing.
Prayer
Loving God,
Make us communities of loving defiance in a world that too often settles for indifference and conformity.
Grant us the courage to stand against the powers that diminish and divide, not with bitterness or self-righteousness, but with the revolutionary tenderness that Christ showed us.
When we are tempted to mirror the very systems we oppose, remind us that our defiance must always be rooted in love. When we grow weary of standing apart, strengthen our resolve through the fellowship of Your Spirit.
Help us reject the false comforts of empire while embodying the radical hospitality of Your Kingdom. May we speak truth boldly while listening humbly, challenge injustice firmly while offering grace freely.
In our communities, let reconciliation and justice embrace. Let our lives together demonstrate what is possible when love defies fear, when grace defies retribution, when hope defies despair.
Make us faithful witnesses to Your upside-down Kingdom, where the last are first, the lost are found, and love has the final word.
In the name of Jesus, who loved to the end and defied death itself, we pray.
Amen.
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