In this Holy Week reflection for Spy Wednesday, The Call Back to Gospel Sanity contrasts two striking scenes: the quiet, sacrificial devotion of an unnamed woman and the calculated betrayal unfolding among religious leaders and Judas. As power brokers conspire and self-interest takes center stage, her extravagant act of worship reveals the true nature of Christ’s kingdom—one that isn’t built on influence, status, or control, but on surrender, love, and faith. This episode invites listeners to step away from the noise of modern power struggles and return to the upside-down beauty of the gospel, where the forgotten are remembered, the humble are honored, and Jesus remains sovereign over it all.

Holy Tuesday is marked by tension, questions, and confrontation. In this episode, we explore what it means to wrestle with God—through the story of Jacob, the challenges Jesus faced from religious leaders, and the honest struggles of his own followers. While prideful resistance leads to hardness of heart, humble confrontation opens the door to transformation. If even Jesus wrestled in the garden, what might it look like for us to bring our doubts, frustrations, and questions to him? This is an invitation to engage honestly—and be changed by the struggle.

Chaos. Ruach (Hebrew for spirit/Spirit/wind), Light: this pattern/thread runs throughout scripture and culminates in Jesus' death and resurrection. He is the ultimate light and as His followers, we're called to be light.

Palm Sunday begins with celebration—but it points toward something far deeper. In this episode, we revisit the familiar story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem through the lens of both memory and meaning, connecting it to the raising of Lazarus and the unfolding of Holy Week. What looked like victory was misunderstood, and what followed would challenge every expectation. As the “Light of the World” moves toward the cross, we explore how this moment marks not just the beginning of suffering—but the start of a new creation.

Week 5 of our Ever Approaching Dawn series highlights two ways we respond to grief and loss.

In this episode, we reflect on a quiet but powerful moment from the days between the Cross and the Resurrection. Drawing from Luke 23:55–56, we follow the women who remained when others fled—who, in the midst of grief and confusion, simply did the next thing.

As the world seemed to unravel on Good Friday, their response wasn’t bold or dramatic. It was faithful. Ordinary. Obedient.

This episode explores what it means to trust God in the in-between—the space between despair and hope, between death and dawn. When clarity is gone and the future feels uncertain, how do we move forward?

Sometimes, faith doesn’t require a full plan—just the courage to take the next step.

In this Week Four Lenten message, we learn that Christ-centered joy is not the absence of sorrow... but rather the presence of living hope in the middle of it.

“Rejoice.” It’s a command that can feel almost cruel in seasons of grief. And yet throughout the New Testament—on the lips of Jesus, James, Peter, and Paul—we’re told to find joy in the midst of trials. Not because suffering is good, but because it is not the end of the story.

Laetare Sunday, the fourth Sunday of Lent, stands at the midpoint between Ash Wednesday and Easter as a deliberate interruption: a call to rejoice right in the heart of repentance and sorrow. The ancient church even described Lent as “bright sadness”—a season where grief and joy are not enemies, but sisters. Loss deepens delight. Sorrow enlarges the soul for hope.

Jesus himself modeled this paradox. He wept and he rejoiced. He spoke of flourishing, yet walked the road of suffering. Laetare invites us to do the same—to name our losses honestly while also lifting our eyes toward resurrection. In Christ, suffering leads to glory, and grief gives way to inexpressible joy. Even now, in the middle of Lent, we’re reminded: resurrection is coming, and that promise changes everything.

Laws in America may protect those who help, but for Christ followers, compassion isn't optional; it's our calling.

When tragedy stacks up—cancer, violence, injustice, suffering close to home and across the world—it can feel like despair is the only logical response. In a world scarred by sin and loss, we’re tempted either to be crushed by the weight of it all or to numb ourselves just to survive. But neither path leads to flourishing.

The Christian story offers something deeper. It teaches us to name brokenness honestly—to call evil what it is, to grieve what was lost in the Fall, and to refuse cheap optimism. Yet it also anchors that lament in hope. Because of the cross and the empty tomb, we do not grieve as those without a future. The resurrection of Jesus is the declaration that death and despair do not get the final word.

Whatever chapter of sorrow we find ourselves in, it is not the end of the story. Christ was crushed so that we would not be—and his resurrection promises that our tears, our faithfulness, and our labor are not in vain. Brokenness is real, but it does not have the final say.