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Written by Paul David Tripp, a contemporary pastor, author, and speaker. This is an excerpt from his book “Journey to the Cross.”

The Lenten season is about the sin that was the reason for the suffering and sacrifice of our Savior. It is about taking time to reflect on why we all needed such a radical move of redemption, to confess the hold that sin still has on us, and to focus on opening our hands in confession and submission and letting go of sin once again. But as we do this, it is important to remember that the knowledge of sin is not a dark and nasty thing but a huge and wonderful blessing. If you are aware of your sin, you are aware of it only because you have been visited by amazing grace. Don’t resist that awareness. Silence your inner lawyer and all the self-defending arguments for your righteousness. Quit relieving your guilt by pointing a finger of blame on someone else. And stop telling yourself in the middle of a sermon that you know someone who really needs to hear it. Be thankful that you have been chosen to hear the burden of the knowledge of sin, because that burden is what drove you and will continue to drive you to seek the help and rescue that only the Savior Jesus can give you. To see sin clearly is a sure sign of God’s grace. Be thankful.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. [1 John 1:9]

Written by Susan Besser of the Village Church

When I think back to the season of Lent in the 1940s, I don’t first remember the somber hymns or the purple paraments or even the long shadows of the Nevada desert settling over Las Vegas at dusk. I remember ice cream. My dad was the pastor of our little church, and every Wednesday evening during Lent we piled into the car for midweek services. The sanctuary always felt a bit more serious during that season—quieter, dimmer, as if even the walls were thinking about repentance. I was a child, trying my best to sit still, swing my legs quietly, and not drop my hymnal. Dad was up front, preaching about sacrifice and reflection, Mom was on the organ bench playing somber, minor key hymns that resonate to this day, but my own Lenten discipline was simple: behave. Because if my two brothers and I behaved—if we didn’t whisper too loudly or fidget too much—there was a reward waiting for us after the final hymn. A trip to the local ice cream parlor. I can still see it: the neon lights glowing against the desert night, the clink of metal scoops, the sweet cold smell that rushed out every time the door opened. While the grown-ups talked about the sermon, I was deciding between chocolate or strawberry, or maybe—if Lent was especially holy—two scoops. It makes me smile now, how the deepest season of the church year is forever tied in my memory to ice cream dripping down my hand. But maybe that’s fitting. Lent is about longing, about waiting, about small acts of faithfulness. And for a child in the 1940s, sitting still through a Wednesday night service felt like a very big act of faithfulness indeed. So yes, I learned about repentance and grace. But I also learned that God’s people gather, families try their best, and sometimes the sweetest memories of faith come with sprinkles.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. [Philippians 4:4]

Written by Matt Mazzalongo, a contemporary pastor.

The cross has the power to create in a person the love and desire for what is good, right, true, and pure. Even though a person cannot achieve perfection on this earth, the cross of Christ gives him a thirst for it. No law can produce this in one’s heart. No threats of punishments can make me want what is right and good (I’ll do it out of fear, but you can’t force me to want to obey.) No amount of self-discipline or willpower can make a person love righteousness. However, the cross of Christ has attraction because it has the power to create this desire in the human heart. How? When I contemplate Jesus’ sacrifice for me, I see for the first time the essence of God’s deepest goodness and purest justice. I see, by the cross, that I worship a God who took upon Himself a human nature and entered into human history in order to suffer the punishment for the sins that I committed and for which I truly deserved punishment. In other words, God transferred my sins onto Himself! This knowledge awakens in me the desire to have and do what He did. In the same way that I craved after evil and the pleasures of sin, after the cross I hunger and thirst after righteousness, now that I’ve seen what perfect righteousness does. Because of the Law, the sin in me was aroused. Because of the Cross, the spirit in me is aroused. Moreover, the cross makes me want to abandon forever my weak attempts at goodness and self-justification through works, and desire to be good and righteous as He is good and righteous; a goodness and righteousness that totally eclipses my own! There are many things in the world that will change a person’s appearance, even his state of mind, but only the cross of Christ has the power to change a person’s heart. Before the cross I desired only what served me, after seeing the cross all I desire is what will serve God.

For while we were in the flesh, the sinful passions, which were aroused by the Law, were at work in the members of our body to bear fruit for death. But now we have been released from the Law, having died to that by which we were bound, so that we serve in newness of the Spirit and not in oldness of the letter. [Romans 7:5-6]

Written by Mike Creavey, a contemporary evangelizer, teacher, and writer.

John of the Cross wrote that our transformation, our conversion and configuring to God could be likened to a piece of timber consumed by flames. Life, he wrote, is a long and often painful process by which our Lord purifies and sanctifies each one of us with the fire of the Holy Spirit. Just as a log thrust into a fireplace spends a great deal of time first being heated and dried out, so too does the fire of God’s love warm my soul and begin to dry it. As my damaged nature and my sins are dried up and purged by the steady presence of this divine flame, I begin to slowly transform into something altogether new. This never comes without pain, for no such transformation ever can. We usually fear such change. We fear moving away from a place in which we feel comfortable, terrible as it may be, into a process that will surely be characterized by suffering. But ironic as it may seem at first glance, suffering is not to be feared. It must be embraced and offered to God. When I make such an offering, I begin to experience something extraordinary. My cross begins to resemble his cross. In truth, it actually becomes his cross. My bruises, my cuts, my gashes, my sorrow – they all converge with his own and he takes them upon himself. As this drama unfolds, he returns everything to me. His blood becomes my own. His hands and feet become my own. Better said, I become a true member of his own Mystical Body!

I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. [Galatians 2:20]

Written by Joel Stucki, a contemporary writer

[Jesus] offers life in abundance! How can we grasp how wonderful that is if we turn a blind eye to sin and death, and to the seemingly unbreakable grip in which the world is held? What good is it to say that the Lord of life entered death, that the sinless one bore our sin, if we refuse to look at sin and death for what they are? Yes, sorrow gives way to victory. But to grasp the victory, we must grieve the sorrow. A great work of art is not always enjoyable, but it is always challenging—it changes those who encounter it. We think beauty is something pleasing to the eye. It is not. Beauty has nail-holes in its hands and feet. Blood runs down the face of beauty, beaten beyond recognition. Beauty is not that which is pleasant and easy, but that which transforms.

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. [(Isaiah 53:3]

Written by Allan Anderson of the Village Church

The birth of Jesus was the greatest gift the world has ever received! Thirty plus years later, his crucifixion and resurrection opened the portal to the promise of eternal life for all those with faith and belief in God. In our lives and especially within the immediate family, the promise and birth of a child is the hope for the future. In many cases, the loss of a child at a young age can be devastating and often profoundly challenges the future of entire families. Several years ago, our son and daughter-in-law lost their 10-year-old daughter to leukemia. Although the medical treatments were state of the art, the needed biological match never materialized and after 9 straight months of being hospitalized, our granddaughter received a heavenly welcome home. In retrospect, God’s grace and caring became more visible each and every day during her illness. Strength and support grew both through prayer and acts of physical caring for our son’s family and spread to other parents of the children with similar difficulties. In the hospital lounge on the children’s floor, groups gathered in prayer, new friendships were formed, and the definition of needed support was understood and realized. There were care portals on the Internet that contained international support and commentary. This led to the anticipated get together called “Wonderful Wednesdays” where trends and surprises were gathered and shared: a perfect example of people being the hands of God. When life came to an end, the caring continued. Out east, the ritual of calling hours at a funeral home brought over 250 visitors to offer expressions of love to our family. The next day, almost 600 people attended the Memorial service for our beautiful 10-year-old girl. Sadness had become personal strength! Once again, a child was born and through the strength of faith and understanding, countless lives found meaning and direction to assure others and build confidence for their futures.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. [Psalm 147:3]

Written by Jerry Lawrence, a contemporary pastor and writer.

The crucifixion of Jesus, though brutal and humiliating, served a purpose beyond comprehension. As Jesus hung on that cross, every drop of His blood and every moment of suffering ushered in a great exchange—our bondage, shame, and sin for His righteousness, access, and acceptance. Consider the significance of the bloodshed, a symbolism echoed in the Passover lamb’s sacrifice. Just as the Israelites applied the blood to their doorposts for protection, we receive grace, mercy, and peace through the blood of Jesus Christ… The tearing of the veil at Jesus’ death symbolizes the profound shift from an earthly temple to a temple indwelt by the Spirit of God—our bodies. This transformation… signifies our role as living stones, built into a spiritual house to offer sacrifices pleasing to God…Let us boldly approach the throne of grace, knowing that through the cross and the blood, we have been made heirs of God’s promise, recipients of His boundless love, and vessels of His glory. May we walk in the fullness of this truth, glorifying God in our bodies and spirits, now and forevermore.

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst? [1 Corinthians 3:16]E

Written by Ruth Grendell from the Village Church.

As we transition to Lent related to the crucifixion and resurrection and dying to self, I concentrated on Acts 28: 1-10. Paul and others intended to go to Rome. However, a great storm forced them to abandon the ship and swim to the island of Malta. They were welcomed by the people who learned about Paul and his beliefs. The Chief Official stated that his father was very ill, and he asked if Paul could go to him. After praying, Paul laid his hands on the man, and he was healed.  I wear my Maltese-shaped cross necklace most of the time that reminds me that I must strive to deny my own ways, and cling to following the ways of Jesus who lives in me.

As it happened, Publius’s father was ill with fever and dysentery. Paul went in and prayed for him, and laying his hands on him, he healed him. Then all the other sick people on the island came and were healed. As a result, we were showered with honors, and when the time came to sail, people supplied us with everything we would need for the trip. [Acts 28:8-10]

Written by David Avila, a contemporary media producer, filmmaker, and church planter.

The power of the cross is the gospel’s power to transform us. It is good news that saves us. The power of the cross moves us from death to life. It starts us on our journey as a new creation, leading us to maturity and growth in Christ all along the way. A message so simple but so paradoxical; a message that contrasts man’s wisdom against God’s folly; a message we are entrusted to proclaim to the nations.

And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. [2 Corinthians 3:18]26

Written by Doreen May from the Village Church

Sweet Angels Sing

And they sang a new song, saying: “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation. [Revelation 5:9]