This is the first in a series of articles entitled “Getting Over Yourself for Lent.” We’ll have a new article every week of this Lenten Season.
We can’t remove our crosses or the reality of our deaths. Only Jesus can.
People everywhere, every day, feel God’s wrath—and not as merely an afterlife threat but as a present reality.

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Our scars are a reminder that salvation is all gift.
It is true that no one ever grieves in the same way. We are all different in personality and chemical makeup. But what is the same, is that everyone, at some point, grieves.
In the suffering of Jesus, we have an example of trusting in the promises of the Father.
I had been taught and believed in a God who is love, but as I walked outside that night I did not see him. I saw the stars and I felt their indifference.
Rather than validate our selfish, self-serving choices, he justifies us by giving us new life and baptizing us into his death and resurrection.
Jesus doesn’t talk about God’s love for us; he embodies it.
It is a strange irony, but in a world drunk on violence, it is only on the cross of violence that there is hope for peace in our world.
Pain is our birthright, but Jesus’ resurrection is our irrevocable end.
Did the suffering stop? No. It actually got worse. The commands of what exercise to do next sped up and intensified for both of us. The Guide was allowing himself to be smoked with me.
This is a guest article brought to us by Dr. James Isaacs.
I’d like to offer a short reflection on the theme of “worldliness” as it appears in his later work and how that’s connected to an item of his Lutheran heritage: the theology of the cross.
Seasons of prolonged suffering have a way of beating your spirit down into the dust. Relational suffering. Physical suffering. Emotional suffering. Financial suffering.