On Maundy Thursday, Christ explicitly gave his disciples the new command from which the day takes its name, for the Latin words novum mandatum are the Vulgate’s translation of “new command.”
Spy Wednesday asks us to look inward. It's the day the liturgical calendar acknowledges what we already know: we are not the best version of ourselves.
“Save us!” or “Deliver us!” That’s what “Hosanna” means. And that is exactly what Jesus did in the ER that dark Thanksgiving Day and every day for me.

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We don’t just need someone to bear our guilt and die for us. We also need someone to defeat all of the forces of sin and darkness and anxiety and depression that overwhelm us.
There is no comfort in naked sovereignty. A bully may be said to be “sovereign” over the elementary school playground, but that doesn’t bring much comfort nor does it promise security. We need something more than a God who is in control.
The true miracle of springtime isn't simply its beauty, but in the way it foreshadows the sprigs of life that spring forth when God creates faith from the fallow ground of dead sinners.
In our search for absolution, human beings leave no stone unturned. We’re desperate to have our uneasy consciences soothed.
No matter how fast we run—the little Pharisee on our shoulder is still standing there, arms crossed, shaking his head, and telling us we could have done more. We could have done better.
As I sat there in the dark, empty church with my hands buried in the guts of a copy machine I was powerless to fix, I couldn't help feeling sorry for myself.
The question is this: Is it possible to truly believe God will give us a desirable answer to our prayers, and at the same time be OK if He doesn't?
The gelded Gospel is shiny and attractive and compelling, and we can perform the procedure in any number of ways.
Happiness is a slippery term. We all want it. We're all supposed to pursue it. But nobody seems to know how to obtain it.