Alan Thorimbert

Campus Staff, University of Victoria

The name for today’s feast day is taken from the famous line “ashes to ashes” which most of us rightly associate with funerals. Today, however, is not so much a day to meditate on death, but on our mortality, or to put it in another way, on our humanness. Today’s poem seeks to welcome us into remembering the goodness of being humans made in the image of God, with all the limits and privileges that come with our vocation.

We commit ourselves to being purified,
We dedicate ourselves for sanctification
We practice the art of repenting.

This is our human duty we begin
Let us walk this right of passage
and mature.
adult and abide.
return and repent
cultivate home
as we apprentice ourselves to the Potter’s work.
in fasting, let justice roll down
become us rivers of life flowing into the desert times.

Ruth Brown

Spiritual Formation & Prayer Director

Matthew 23:37-39 First Nations Version: “A dark cloud cast a shadow over Creator Sets Free (Jesus), and a look of pain and sorrow came upon his face. ‘Jerusalem, O Village of Peace!’ he cried out loud for all to hear, ‘You who kill the prophets and stone to death the ones the prophets sent to you! How I have longed to gather your children together, like an eagle gathers her young under her wings, but you would not have it. Look! Your house has fallen and will be left in ruins! I speak from my heart, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes representing the Great Spirit!’”

Luke 19:41-44 First Nations Version “As Jesus rode forward, he could see the Sacred Village of Peace (Jerusalem) and tears began to run down his face. He could taste the salt from his tears as he opened his mouth in anguish. ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you are the Sacred Village of Peace,’ he wept out loud. ‘Of all people, you should be the ones who would know the way of peace, but on this sacred day, the way of peace is hidden from your eyes. In the days ahead your enemies will encircle you and close in on you from every side. You will be crushed and trampled down, along with all your children. Every lodge will fall, and not even one pole, log or stone will be left standing against another. All of this will happen because you did not know it was your time for the Great Spirit to visit you.’”

A month ago, I stood with my sister and brother-in-law in a conservation area with bird seed in my hand and hope in my heart. I longed for a chickadee to land on my hand and eat what I offered. It gave me so much delight when not just one, but many little chickadees came exploring my hand and began feeding on the seed! Through faithful offering of food by many people, over and over again in this same spot, this area has become known and trusted by chickadees. This experience caused me to ponder: Does God feel this delight when I choose to trust him and land on his outstretched hand to feed? Does our faithful persevering, offering of God’s love and word to students and campers, over and over again, help to grow trust and hunger in them to come and feed regularly from God? Jesus wept, prayed, and offered himself for those who turned away. Yes, it makes a difference!

Reflect: Can you imagine Jesus weeping over you? For what might Jesus long for you? What keeps you from regularly feeding from God’s hand? Do you trust and hunger after what God offers? Can you imagine God’s delight when you land on his open hand and take time to explore and feed on what he offers? When we are satisfied, let’s keep reminding others where they can find deep satisfaction.

Rachel Bennett

Former Communications Staff

In my creative art piece, the ripped paper comes from commentaries I used when writing a paper on Psalm 22, the psalm Jesus quotes on the cross. I wanted to convey what I found in Matthew 23: People at the time were so invested in the law and focused on what they thought the Messiah should be like, that they missed Jesus and the message he brought. The simple gold cross over the paper represents the pure and simple faith Jesus calls us to, a message painted over all true theology.

I feel sad when I see a passage so dissected that the reader no longer sees the message in front of her, and I think Jesus felt something similar but much more powerful when he looked at Jerusalem.

Reflect: In this COVID season, are there places where you have been so invested in the law – what you think is right or wrong — that you have missed the presence of Jesus and his love. Notice Jesus looking at you and your community, and ask him what he is praying for you today.

Nyssa Clements
Campus Minister, Fraser Valley BC

Mark 14:3-9: “She has done a beautiful thing to me,” Jesus declared. From our vantage point we know Jesus welcomed the anointing he received from this woman. She did this to prepare his body for burial. But from her vantage point, I wonder what she felt. What was going through her mind and body as she walked into that room, her precious jar of perfume in hand, knowing what she was about to do? Did she feel the judgement and rebuke of the men who said this was a waste? Did she second guess whether this was worth doing? Was she confident that Jesus would receive her anointing with open hands? Her actions were bold, yet tender, deliberate, yet full of grace. In faith, she poured out all she had, trusting her sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

Once the fun of summer had faded into fall, and the moving boxes had been unpacked, the loss, loneliness, and doubt I’d been ignoring began bubbling to the surface. What on earth had we just done? Being on sabbatical, I had time to think about this and wrestle with God. I felt as if we had just smashed our very precious jar of perfume and offered it to Jesus. In our case, our perfume was the security and comfort of living near family, in a province we’ve always called home, leaving what had been stable and good work with a community who knew and loved us. I started to feel hurt that Jesus had asked us to give up so much to follow him in this season. In my hurt, I hadn’t stopped to listen for Jesus’ response to our offering.

As I prayed one day, bringing my grief and anxiety to Jesus, I imagined myself in the shoes of the woman in Bethany. In my prayerful imagination, I watched as the nard I had poured over Jesus’ head, flowed down his arms. As it dripped towards his hands, I watched as his palms turned, face up, to welcome and receive my offering. To receive me. What a wave of relief and love I felt in that moment, realizing that Jesus saw me. The offering is still costly, the challenges still great, but this tender welcome of Jesus, offered me a renewed sense of hope. I pray that you too, would know that Jesus lovingly welcomes you and your offerings each day.

Prayer: Jesus, may we be people who cling to you and who live our lives knowing your incommensurable worth. May we be people who freely offer as we are able and trust that you will receive us and our offerings with gentleness and love.

Alan Thorimbert

Campus Staff, University of Victoria

Sometimes we forget how much conflict is hovering in the upper room on that final night before Gethsemane and Golgotha. Conflict arises as Jesus goes to wash his friend’s feet, and Peter in his shame and discomfort says “No.” Conflict arises from confusion born of Jesus’ cryptic language about drinking his blood and eating his body. And then there are the moments between Jesus and Judas in front of the other disciples. Incredibly tense moments.

Put me in that room, and it is easy for me to imagine all my fears of losing someone becoming incredibly loud and hard to ignore. Jesus’ language around final hours and final things does not help to quell fear.

Yet Jesus’ prayer for his disciples in John 17 encourages me. I read his words, and I understand that Jesus is not leaving because we’re on bad terms. He’s heading to the cross whether our relationship improves or worsens, and he’s heading there because that is how he will fulfill all the Messianic hopes of Israel. Israel, called to be blessed by YHWH so that it might be a blessing for many. Jesus is leaving because he is the Messiah.

Our colleague and friend Justin Yuen once shared with me that it is part of our journeys as disciples to learn to say goodbye well. Over the years I have found this to be true. Goodbyes are a part of the way of Jesus and can be a spiritual rite of passage through which Jesus grows us. Jesus models that here in John 15. The upper room is a farewell party, and this is his farewell address.

Reflect: There is much talk within our organization about cultivating communities of welcome, but what about cultivating farewells? What would it look like to be communities of welcome and farewells? I find myself wondering what new missional moments we might see when we invest in sending as well as welcoming. Reflect on what makes a good farewell as we journey with Jesus through his prayer for his disciples in John 17.

Prayer: O God of beginnings and endings, make us into people who find hope in farewells, honor in goodbyes, and celebration in the passing on from death into new life

Chelsea Davis

Simon Fraser University

God who fiercely protects us and lovingly sends us,
Give us a gritty love in these days, so that we do not become bitter with the world.
As you experience oneness in Yourself,
May we too receive a vision for complete unity in our campuses and beyond.
God, we believe, and we feel overwhelmed.
Give us a gritty hope to believe that you are still in love with the world.
As we laugh with students and repeat our early morning commute,
May we lean into our inheritance of joy –
even when seemingly fleeting, simple, or like the size of a crumb.
Remind us that all of this, every bit of it, is so that
The love You have for them might be in them.

Rebecca Stuber,

Intern Alumnae

Glory to the Father! Glory to the Son! Glory To the Spirit
That people such as this believe in your word
And are filled with joy (most of the time)
Through your sacrifice they have been made holy!
Not through their labor, coffee check-ins or leadership
But through the truth of your word!
Hallelujah!
Holy Father, I pray on behalf of all who will ever believe
in you through their message
May they be protected, and sanctified
Experiencing perfect unity with you
And your love alive in them
Amen

Eleanor Cheung

Student at Simon Fraser University

Thank you for the staff workers
Thank you for loving them and walking with them their entire lives
Even when they didn’t know you or trust you and when they didn’t have hope in themselves
You’ve known them their whole lives and you’ve always had hope for them
Thank you for placing each one of them on campuses
And entrusting them with your kingdom in different spaces
Thank you for our staff worker’s diverse backgrounds, educations, dreams, emotions, personalities, strengths, and weaknesses,
all uniquely informing their experiences with you
I pray their knowledge of your love is so rich with experience
And also, ever changing as they meet you again and again
And I pray that they can fully share this love as they care for all the different student they meet

Cristyn Bergen

Campus Staff in Prince George

You have called us into life my Christ, to be known and loved by you

Give them the eyes to see the mystery of your words O Christ.
“That eternal life is this [these students/staff] may know you the only true
God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

O Merciful Saviour, would you teach us the steps of the waltz you took part in on earth?
Father, Son and Holy Spirit, three in one.
Help us to understand the mystery of this communion.
Invite them into the dance of the Trinity.

You were known by the Father,
You followed the steps of the Spirit,
Show us the way to know

When the wounds from others fester the old lies that they are unlovable,
you call them to be known, even with the pains of the past they keep hidden.
When they wear their mask in your meeting place
and words their heart doubts sing across their lips,
Help them to believe, you look beyond their mask
and pursue what lies underneath.

And when the world laughs when we make fools of ourselves walking down this pilgrim way
Give [students/staff] the humility and humour
To fall on the grace that first brought them to you
And the joy that there is nothing to fear when they are known by you

Katharine Beaven

Adventure Camp Director Pioneer Ontario

My Soul is Very Sorrowful

This beautiful stained glass is at the front of the church I attended growing up. For over two decades I stared at it, noticing all its detail. I read the words over and over and often wondered why Ms. Lillian had chosen this window in memory of her husband. It was present during sermons, baptisms, pageants, youth worship nights, weddings, and funerals. I saw it with bright smiles and blurred through tears. I sometimes wonder if this window is the reason I relate most to the moments Jesus spent in the garden.

Losing my mum at age 10 sent me into a spiral of turmoil. My thoughts of suicide started then and lasted more than a decade. I would read Psalm 6 and 34 over and over. I took comfort that David put words to the anguish I was feeling. Then I discovered Max Lucado’s book about Jesus’ last week and the chapter ‘He Chose You.’ Lucado’s re-telling of Jesus’ experience in Gethsemane opened my eyes to the Jesus who also felt anguish and turmoil. Jesus realized what the coming days would bring, and “he was sorrowful and troubled.” He took his three closest disciples to pray. Twice he found them sleeping. Three times he asked if there could be another way. Three times he saw what lay ahead, and his grief was overwhelming. But three times he ended his plea with “not my will but yours.” Three times he saw us and chose us. Three times his love for us was so great that he submitted to the Father.

Reflect: During this Lenten season, let us remember that Jesus has felt anguish and abandonment. He has felt the deep sorrow of loss and lack of care from friends. He has felt all of these big feels, but with big love he saw you, heard you, wanted you and took the punishment for you. He chose us so we can have freedom in him.

Austin Fedchuck

Campus Minister University of British Columbia

This is a reflection on the imagined thoughts of some of Jesus’ early followers around the cup that Jesus will drink referencing

There is a cup in my hands but it’s empty. I’m ready for your promises. David wrote that you anointed his head with oil and that his cup overflowed. There is a cup in my hands but it’s empty.

I have said yes. I have followed you. I long to sit at your right hand in glory. You ask if I can drink the cup you are going to drink. I say yes. There is a cup in my hands but it’s empty.

I remember when we went through Samaria. You asked that woman for a drink. What were we supposed to think? You told her she should have asked you for a drink. But you didn’t have a cup, and the well was deep. You told her you had living water. She ran back to her village in joy. I grabbed her cup in my hands, but it’s empty.

We entered the city for Passover. We ate supper in a leper’s home. Another woman came in with a full jar of perfume. She poured it on your head, the whole room was upset. You honoured her saying she will always be remembered. I remember her and the cup in her hand, and it’s empty.

We are upstairs in a room. The Passover is soon. You wash our feet before we eat. We celebrate, but I sense doom. After the bread you give us the cup. You tell us to drink and that you will be poured out for many, I take the cup in my hands and drink until it is empty.

We go to a garden. My mind is still spinning but I can’t say why. You look so troubled as if you are about to cry. You instruct me to stay and keep watch with you but I’m too tired to stand, so I drift off to sleep with this empty cup in my hand.

I am startled awake. Your face looks so bleak. I am concerned for you, my friend, but I can’t speak. You tell us to pray because our flesh is weak. As I drift off again, you mention a cup. I dream that you cry out “Abba Father, not my will but your will, though I am asking you still, must I drink my fill on the tree on that hill?” You look sad. You look tired.

I dream another dream. In it I approach you sitting by a fire on a hill. I sit down next to you. I am sad, I am tired. I ask you about this season I am in and what I am holding. I look down and there is a cup in my hand, but it’s empty. You take the cup from my hand and put it beside you. You put your hand in mine and as we look out over the rolling hills, we both drink our fill.

This last verse is an image Jesus gave me recently in prayer. The image of the cup reminded me of Jesus’ prayer to the Father. He knew what was in his cup, he knew what God was asking him and he still asked the Father about it. Repeatedly in fact. There was conversation, there was vulnerability and honesty.

I find it hard to come to God in vulnerability and honesty, but that’s exactly what Jesus did. Jesus wants us to do the same. Join me in talking to Jesus.

Prayer: Close your eyes and imagine going to meet Jesus somewhere. Maybe it’s in a garden, by a fire on a hill, by the water or a forest in the mountains. Imagine meeting the Creator in creation.

Take deep, slow breaths, and close your eyes. Imagine going to Jesus where he sits. Sit beside him. How do you feel? Look down in your hands and imagine you are holding a cup. What is inside of it? Ask Jesus about what is in your cup. What does he say? Ask Jesus for a drink. What does he give you?

Daiane Alecrim

Accountant

This passage is often read when we take holy communion in our churches. Jesus reminded us then, as he does now, of the night when he was betrayed. This reveals so much about Jesus’ character. One of his closest friends Judas, his trusted follower of three years, was about to betray Jesus for money. And yet Jesus does not expose Judas or make a scene. Jesus shares bread with him, offers him himself.

I wonder what we would do in Jesus’ place. I remember some very difficult times in my life when I was pregnant and hoping to give birth to my child. Instead, seven years ago I miscarried and lost that baby. My pain felt like a rock inside me – no feelings. I just kept pretending that I was OK. The second time, just one year ago, was different. When I lost our second baby, I felt betrayed by life, by God, by my body. There was another woman in hospital with me. She didn’t know I had lost my baby, and she asked me to pray for her. I felt love for her and somehow God helped me to pray for her. Looking back now I can see that giving to others when we feel betrayed is an act of love that only God can give. After that time, I began asking God questions. I needed answers for this suffering. I went to church and the pastor who was supposed to preach was not able to come that day. Another woman at the last minute stepped in and preached a wonderful sermon about Hannah and her grief in the temple, crying for a child (1 Samuel 1). Her words spoke directly to my heart. Since then, I have been growing in my faith and trust that God is good and is always with us. God led me to work at InterVarsity and is giving me opportunities to encourage others. When I take holy communion, I remember the great love that Jesus offers even when he is being betrayed.

Reflect: When have you felt betrayed by God, by life, by friends? Talk with Jesus about that experience and see what comes to mind. Jesus understands how you feel. Ask Jesus that his love would heal your heart.

Rachelle Low

Saskatchewan Director

Mark 14:45-46
“Speaks Well Of (Judas), when he arrived, walked right up to Creator Sets Free (Jesus). “Wisdomkeeper!” he said, and then kissed him. They moved in and took hold of Creator Sets Free (Jesus) to arrest him.”

Matthew 26:49-50
“Speaks Well Of (Judas) walked right up to Creator Sets Free (Jesus). “Greetings, Wisdomkeeper,” he said and then kissed him. “My friend,” Creator Sets Free (Jesus) said to his face, “Do what you came to do.” The crowd moved in and took hold of Creator Sets Free (Jesus) to arrest him.”

Have you paused to wonder what Jesus felt when Judas betrayed him in the garden? Is there a personal experience that leaps to mind when you read the story of Judas’ betrayal of Jesus?

I have stories, too many to count, of betrayals in my own life. To hold the pain at bay, I have disconnected my feelings and emotions from those experiences. Over time, however, painful experiences have become solidly lodged in my memory like unwanted sculptures that haunt me day and night.

I picture Jesus in the garden, knowing that the cross is still before him, as he watches one of his closest friends draw close. The betrayal must have felt painful, weighty, and deeply wounding. Perhaps the betrayal was heavier and more painful than the thought of death on the cross.

I disconnected myself from my feelings and emotions, but I wonder if Jesus fully embraced his. I thought that by disconnecting from my emotions and feelings I could keep myself safe from future pain. Instead, I am beginning to wonder if perhaps I was only betraying myself over and over again.

I return to the moment in that garden; I stand next to Jesus. As I watch Judas approach Jesus, I sense deep love and longing radiating forth from Jesus towards Judas. I feel the moment Jesus’ heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I wonder about the sorrow in Jesus’ heart. Judas drew close and kissed Jesus, an intimate act that ought to have been followed by an embrace and the resolidifying of deepened trust. Yet the opposite is true: his intimate act opened a chasm that haunted Judas until his death.

Jesus responded to Judas’ betrayal with permission: he allowed the crowd to arrest him. He affectionally whispered “my friend” to Judas, a term that feels so familiar and cherished, so loving and so free of conditions and expectations. Even while being betrayed, Jesus gifted Judas with his emotions. Even at the height of great pain, Jesus allowed himself to experience the gifts of divinity and humanity: pain mingled with love, betrayal mingled with loyalty. And so the betrayal did not haunt Jesus as betrayal haunted Judas and me.

Aaron Husband

Campus Minister Concordia University

Matthew 26:57-27:31

I still remember the first time I realized how much of a farce Jesus’ trial was. I grew up going to church, hearing this story my whole life. But it was only when studying Scripture with university students, that it truly hit me. The trial was a joke, the worst kind. How many legitimate trials take place in the middle of the night? How many have false witnesses, probably bribed (and rather incompetent)? Jesus’ persecutors were too cowardly to arrest him in public. Pilate was not innocent. His handwashing was no absolution. Everyone betrayed Jesus, not just Peter. Calling it a trial gives it too much legitimacy. I remember my blood starting to boil. I remember tears welling in my eyes. I remember wanting to punch a wall. How could they have so much pride! How could they fail to see reason! How could they act like such animals!

But Jesus wasn’t being pushed around. He knew what he was doing. When Jesus responded to the high priest in Matthew 26:64, he was referencing Daniel 7, where Daniel has a vision of someone called “the Son of Man” (which just means “a human”), except Jesus is no ordinary human! He’s been given God’s kingly authority and is described with divine attributes. This scene of the Son of Man comes directly after great beasts – which we later realize are symbols of terrible nations which wreak injustices – are trampling the world, but God stops their evil and pronounces judgement on them, raising the Son of Man. Daniel 7 is a court scene. Jesus was saying, in effect, that he would be crowned King and judge their beastly ways that very day.

Two trials took place that day. A legitimate one and a false one.

It’s easy for me to participate in the false one, becoming like a beast, pridefully and pathetically grasping for false power while pretending to be innocent. Even as I am justly angry at those who mistreated Jesus, I know I would have either done the same in their position or mistreated them back – that is to say, I would have done the same in their position.

But Jesus was the truly human one, the type of human we all ought to be. And with the authority and freedom that comes with being a king, he used his true power – power as humans ought to use it – with ultimate humility, allowing himself to be judged, though he was the judge; all this so our beastliness can be condemned without our rightful condemnation. In doing so, he made a way for us to be as humans are designed to be, free from the chains of beastly ways, full of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

That trial was not a farce. Praise God.

Reflect: How do you respond to the contrast between the two trials taking place? What do the trials say about the character and Kingdom of God? When do you participate in the false trial, and how is Jesus inviting you into a better way?

Jamie MacArthur

Atlantic Director

Mark 15

Reflect: Ask God to give light to your darkness, by his Holy Spirit. Jesus, the Word of God, who was with God in the beginning, has much to teach us all. Yet, in the presence of Pilate and those assembled, he did not answer his accusers, but kept silent. Why might this be? What can we learn from his example? How and when might keeping silent be both hard for us, and beneficial to those around us?

In verses 6-14 Pilate, convinced of Jesus’ innocence, tries to release him. The people, however, are bent on crucifixion and demand this horrific death for the sinless Saviour. They do not argue against Pilate’s point, that Jesus has done nothing wrong. They simply scream “Crucify him!”

Are you ever like this, unreasonable and without mercy, even though God has shown grace and mercy to you? Take a moment to repent of any hard-heartedness God may reveal in you, and turn your mind and your heart back to the merciful ways of the God. Choose to extend mercy to others: strangers, enemies, estranged brothers and sisters, and, perhaps most challenging, to yourself.

Pilate wanted to set Jesus free. He admired this prophet and marvelled at his wisdom, but because his own leadership felt precarious, Pilate leaned into the will of the people, making a political calculation, rather than taking an ethical stand.

May God help all of us, especially those of us who lead, and may he grant us the grace and wisdom to acknowledge interpersonal politics at work in us, our temptation to solidify our own position, rather than to do what is right, regardless of the consequences.

Ask God to help you follow the way of Jesus. May he receive all the glory and praise for everything we do, as we follow him with the strength God provides. Amen.

John 20: 11-18

Reflect: On this day after celebrating Easter, it may be difficult for us to hope and trust that Jesus is really alive. Place yourself in this gospel story. Imagine yourself outside the tomb where you know Jesus has been buried. Let your doubts and fears rise. Ask Jesus for what you want or need. Wait and see what comes to mind. This week following Easter, ask for your own encounter with the resurrected Jesus. Continue to listen as Jesus may speak your name.