A display item

Posted on December 11, 2018 by Jefferson Vann
adult art artistic artists

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Pexels.com

John 12:9-11

Joh 12:9 That was why a large crowd of the Jews found out that he is there. They came not only on account of Jesus but also so they could see Lazarus, the one he had raised from the dead ones.

Joh 12:10 But the chief priests had resolved to also kill Lazarus,

Joh 12:11 because many of the Jews were deserting them and were believing in Jesus on account of him.

A display item

Crowds were unpredictable in the Philippines, especially at weddings. Invitations functioned more like suggestions than limits, and entire neighborhoods might appear without warning. A celebration could swell far beyond what anyone planned, turning the event into a logistical challenge. Something similar seems to have happened at the banquet in Bethany. Word had spread that Jesus was there—and that Lazarus, the man raised from the dead, was there as well. People streamed in from Jerusalem, not merely to honor the family but to see with their own eyes the living evidence of Jesus’ power.

Lazarus had become a kind of public exhibit. His presence testified to the authority of Christ in a way no argument could match. He was a walking signpost pointing to the One who had called him out of the grave. People came not because Lazarus was extraordinary in himself, but because what had been done in him was extraordinary. His life had become a display case for the work of God.

This is the quiet beauty of the story. Lazarus did nothing to earn this role. He simply lived—alive because Jesus had spoken. His restored life drew people toward Christ. The miracle in him became a magnet for others.

That pattern continues in the lives of believers. When the Holy Spirit transforms a person—reshaping character, healing wounds, restoring hope, producing fruit—something becomes visible that cannot be explained by human effort alone. A changed life becomes a testimony. People notice. They wonder. They ask questions. They are drawn, not to the person, but to the power that changed the person.

The church does not need celebrity status to bear witness. It needs transformation. The Spirit’s work in ordinary people becomes a living display of Christ’s grace. Just as Lazarus stood as evidence of resurrection power, believers today stand as evidence of the ongoing work of God in the world.

A prayer rises naturally from this reflection:
Lord, change us so deeply by Your Holy Spirit that our lives become display items—living testimonies that draw people to You.

Posted in witness | Tagged | Leave a comment

two opportunities

Posted on December 10, 2018 by Jefferson Vann
selective focus photo of bottle with cork lid

Photo by Mareefe on Pexels.com

John 12:4-8

Joh 12:4 But Judas Iscariot – one of his disciples, (who was about to betray him), said,

Joh 12:5 “Why wasn’t this perfume sold for three hundred denarii and given to poor people?”

Joh 12:6 But he didn’t say this because he was concerned about the poor people, he said it because he was a thief instead. He carried the money-bag and had access to what was put in it.

Joh 12:7 That was why Jesus said, “Leave her alone; it was for the day of preparation for my burial that she has kept it.

Joh 12:8 Because the poor people you are always having among you, but me you are not always having.”

two opportunities

Mary’s act of anointing Jesus stands as one of the clearest pictures of extravagant devotion in the Gospels. Jesus was not dismissing generosity to the poor—His entire ministry demonstrated deep compassion for those in need. But in this moment, He affirmed something that often gets overlooked: there are times when worship must overflow the boundaries of practicality. There are moments when love for Christ expresses itself in ways that seem excessive to observers but are entirely fitting in the presence of the One who is worthy of all honor.

Life will always present urgent needs. The poor will always be among us, and the call to care for them remains a central expression of Christian obedience. Yet Jesus’ response to Mary shows that the demands of compassion must never eclipse the delight of worship. There are seasons when the church must pause from its necessary labors to adore Christ simply because He is worthy. Extravagant worship is not wasteful; it is a declaration that Christ Himself is the treasure above all treasures.

Judas viewed the moment through the lens of opportunity—an opportunity to manage funds, to appear concerned for the poor, and ultimately to enrich himself. His mind was fixed on the economics of the situation. Mary, however, saw the spiritual significance. She recognized the nearness of Jesus’ death, the weight of the moment, and the privilege of honoring Him while He was still with them. Her act was prophetic, tender, and costly. It revealed a heart that valued Christ above possessions, above appearances, and above the criticism of others.

The contrast is stark. Judas calculated; Mary adored. Judas sought advantage; Mary offered sacrifice. Judas hid greed behind pious language; Mary revealed devotion through costly love. The Gospel leaves no doubt about which example is meant to shape the hearts of believers.

This story invites reflection on the posture of the soul toward Christ. There is a time for service, a time for generosity, and a time for mission. But there must also be a time for unrestrained worship—moments when love for Christ overflows in ways that defy mere practicality. Such moments are not distractions from the Christian life; they are its heartbeat.

A prayer rises naturally from this truth:
Lord, thank You for the gift of extravagant worship. Keep our hearts fixed on Christ, and let devotion to Him shape every act of service and generosity.

Posted in Uncategorized, worship | Tagged | Leave a comment

Two women who took charge

Posted on December 9, 2018 by Jefferson Vann

20181209

John 12:1-3

Joh 12:1 That was why – six days before the Passover – Jesus came to Bethany where Lazarus was, the one Jesus had raised from the dead.

Joh 12:2 That was why they made a banquet for him there; Martha was managing it, and Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with him.

Joh 12:3 That was why Mary took a litra1 of perfume, pure and expensive nard,2 anointed Jesus’s feet, and wiped his feet with her hair. So the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

Two women who took charge

Mary and Martha reappear in this scene, but not as passive figures in the background. The previous chapter introduced them in the rawness of grief and the astonishment of resurrection. Now they stand again beside Jesus, not in mourning but in service and devotion, each taking responsibility in her own way as the household hosts a banquet in His honor.

Martha’s role is often reduced to the image of a busy servant, yet the text suggests something far more substantial. The verb διακονέω can refer not only to serving food but to overseeing the entire operation of a meal—administration, coordination, and leadership. This banquet was not a small family dinner. It required many hands, and those hands needed direction. Martha was managing a complex event, ensuring that everything ran smoothly for the guests gathered to honor Jesus. Her service was not menial; it was skilled, intentional, and essential.

Mary, too, stepped into a leadership role, though of a different kind. She offered a costly, intimate act of devotion by anointing Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume. This was not a spontaneous gesture but a deliberate act of love and recognition. Jesus later explained its meaning: she was preparing Him for burial. In a moment charged with tension—when the shadow of the cross was lengthening—Mary acknowledged what others were unwilling to face. Her gift was prophetic, tender, and courageous. She honored Him while He was still with them, recognizing that His time was short.

Together, these sisters demonstrate two forms of taking charge: Martha through capable administration, Mary through sacrificial devotion. Both acts were needed. Both honored Christ. Both revealed hearts attuned to the significance of the moment.

Their example reminds the church that leadership takes many shapes. Some lead by organizing, coordinating, and ensuring that the work of ministry happens with excellence. Others lead by acts of devotion that awaken spiritual awareness in those around them. Both kinds of leadership matter deeply in the kingdom of God.

A prayer rises naturally from this reflection:
Lord, thank You for those who step up and take charge. Thank You for the leaders in our lives.

1The Roman λίτρα, or pound, was a weight of 12 ounces in a Roman measure, about 325 grams.

2Oil from a fragrant plant native to India.

Posted in leadership | Tagged | Leave a comment

Set apart for sacrifice

Posted on December 8, 2018 by Jefferson Vann

20181208

John 11:54-57

Joh 11:54 That was why Jesus no longer walked publicly among the Jews but went away from there to the less populated area near the desert, to a town called Ephraim, and he stayed there with the disciples.

Joh 11:55 Now the Jewish Passover was near, and many went up to Jerusalem from the less populated area to set themselves apart before the Passover.

Joh 11:56 That was why they were looking for Jesus and asking one another as they stood in the temple: “What do you think? He won’t come to the festival, will he?”

Joh 11:57 The chief priests and the Pharisees had given orders that if anyone knew where he is, he should report it so that they could arrest him.

Set apart for sacrifice

The raising of Lazarus became the turning point. Up to that moment, the religious leaders had opposed Jesus, questioned Him, and tried to trap Him, but His latest miracle pushed them past the point of restraint. Bringing a man four days dead back to life was too public, too undeniable, and too threatening. They convinced themselves that eliminating Jesus was necessary for the preservation of the nation. In their minds, His death would prevent unrest, satisfy Rome, and secure their own positions. What they framed as national responsibility was, in truth, fear disguised as piety.

Word spread quickly. Influential members of the Sanhedrin instructed the public to watch for Jesus’ appearance in Jerusalem. The people wondered whether He would dare show Himself again. The city was tense with expectation. Some hoped to see Him; others hoped to seize Him. The atmosphere resembled a manhunt more than a religious festival.

Reading about William Tyndale brings an interesting parallel. Tyndale, hunted by ecclesiastical authorities for translating Scripture into English, fled from place to place, always one step ahead of arrest. His work had to be done in hiding, in exile, in constant danger. He prolonged his life and ministry by avoiding the reach of those who wanted him silenced.

Jesus, however, did not avoid His fate. He did not flee from Jerusalem, though He could have. He did not hide His identity, though secrecy might have spared Him. He set His face toward the city where prophets died, knowing full well what awaited Him. His death was not an accident of politics or a miscalculation of timing. It was the purpose for which He came. He would die for the nation—not in the way Caiaphas imagined, but in the way God had ordained. And He would die for all nations, for all who would be gathered into one people through His sacrifice.

He consecrated Himself for that moment. He walked toward the cross with full awareness, full willingness, and full love. The fate sealed by His obedience became the salvation of the world.

A prayer rises from this reflection:
Lord, thank You for setting Yourself apart for a sacrifice that sealed Your fate and bought forgiveness for us.

Posted in atonement, the cross | Tagged | Leave a comment

Political reasons

Posted on December 7, 2018 by Jefferson Vann

20181207

John 11:45-53

Joh 11:45 That was why many of the Jews who came to Mary and experienced what he did believed in him.

Joh 11:46 But some of them went away to the Pharisees and said to them what Jesus had done.

Joh 11:47 That was why the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered the Sanhedrin together and were saying, “What are we going to do because this man is doing many sign miracles?

Joh 11:48 If we let him act this way, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and lift both our place and our nation.”

Joh 11:49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all!

Joh 11:50 You’re not considering the fact that it is to your advantage that one man should die in behalf of the people rather than the whole nation perish.”

Joh 11:51 But he did not say this from himself, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus was about to die in behalf of the nation,

Joh 11:52 and not in behalf of the nation only, but also to gather together the scattered children of God into one.

Joh 11:53 That was why from that day on they plotted to kill him.

Political reasons

The Sanhedrin appears in the narrative as a religious council, yet the reasons they offer for condemning Jesus reveal a very different set of priorities. Their concerns are not centered on doctrine, Scripture, or fidelity to God’s covenant. Instead, the first objection raised is entirely political: fear that Rome will intervene, remove their national autonomy, and dismantle the fragile stability they enjoyed. Their anxiety is not about truth but about survival—specifically, the survival of their political position and national structure.

Caiaphas then adds what John identifies as a prophecy, yet even this prophetic word is shaped by political calculation. He argues that Jesus’ death would serve as a necessary sacrifice to preserve the nation, to satisfy Rome’s expectations of order, and to maintain the pax romana. His reasoning is not theological but strategic. He imagines that eliminating Jesus will prevent Rome from perceiving a threat and thereby protect the people—and, by extension, the authority of the ruling class. The irony is profound: the high priest speaks a true prophecy, but his motives are rooted in political expediency rather than spiritual discernment.

This moment exposes a sobering reality. Religious language can easily become a cloak for political fears. Convictions that appear deeply spiritual may in fact be shaped by cultural pressures, national anxieties, or personal interests. The Sanhedrin believed they were defending their faith, but in truth they were defending their power. Their theological objections were secondary; their political calculations were primary.

This raises a searching question for every generation: how many ideas held with religious fervor are actually political theories dressed in sacred clothing? How often do fears about cultural change, national identity, or social influence masquerade as spiritual convictions? The danger is subtle, because political concerns can feel righteous when wrapped in religious language. Yet the kingdom of God is not preserved by political maneuvering, nor is the gospel advanced by aligning it with national interests.

The call of Christ is to seek first the kingdom of God, a kingdom not built by human power or protected by political strategy. Faithfulness requires the discernment to separate genuine devotion from disguised self‑interest, and to recognize when fear—not truth—is shaping belief.

A fitting prayer rises from this reflection:
Lord, give the good sense to seek Your kingdom, and to keep political ideas separate from that pursuit.

Posted in insight, kingdom of God | Tagged | Leave a comment

come out here

Posted on December 6, 2018 by Jefferson Vann

20181128

John 11:41-44

41 That was why they lifted the stone. Then Jesus lifted his eyes up and said, “Father, I am giving thanks to you because you have heard me.

42 But I know that you always hear me, instead – because of the crowd standing around here I said this, so that they may believe that you sent me.”

43 After he said this, he screamed with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out here!”

44 The dead man came out with the feet and the hands tied with linen strips and with his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.”

come out here

Jesus’ command to Lazarus was simple, direct, and filled with authority: δεῦρο ἔξω—“come out.” It was not a summons from heaven or a call to descend from some conscious realm above. It was a command addressed to a man lying in a tomb, a man whose body had succumbed to death, whose consciousness had ceased, whose life had ended. Jesus did not use the verbs for “come down” (καταβαίνω, κατέρχομαι) because Lazarus was not alive somewhere else. He was asleep in death, resting in the silence of the grave until the voice of the Son of God awakened him.

This moment reveals the true condition of all who die. Scripture consistently describes death as sleep—not because it is peaceful, but because it is temporary. Sleep implies awakening. The dead are not active, not aware, not watching from afar. They rest in the dust, awaiting the word of Christ that will call them back to life. Lazarus’ experience becomes a pattern, a preview of what will happen to every believer. The hope of the Christian faith is not found in death itself, nor in some disembodied existence, but in rescue from death—in the resurrection that Christ alone can accomplish.

The power of Jesus’ command at that tomb in Bethany points forward to the day when He will speak again, not to one man but to all who sleep in the earth. His voice will pierce every grave, every sea, every forgotten resting place. No barrier will hinder Him. No decay will resist Him. The same authority that summoned Lazarus will summon the entire redeemed family of God.

Those who are alive at His coming will be transformed instantly, changed by the same word that awakens the dead. Those who sleep will rise at that word, restored to life by the One who is the Resurrection and the Life. All will stand together, alive forever, because Christ has spoken.

A prayer rises naturally from this hope:
Lord, we who are alive await Your word to transform us. Those who are asleep await the same word.

Posted in resurrection, sleep of death | Tagged | Leave a comment

no matter how long

Posted on December 5, 2018 by Jefferson Vann
20181128

John 11:37-40

37 But some of them said, “Wouldn’t he who was able to open the blind man’s eyes also have made it so that this person would not die?”

38 Then Jesus, deeply moved inside himself again, came to the tomb. But it was a cave, and a stone was lying against it.

39 Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the dead man’s sister, told him, “Lord, there is already a stink because it is four days.”

40 Jesus said to her, “Didn’t I say to you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”

no matter how long

Mary had remained in the house, surrounded by neighbors who had come to mourn with her. Martha, having spoken with Jesus, returned to bring her sister out to Him. When Mary arrived, the gathered crowd followed, sensing that something significant was unfolding. Their expectations were shaped by the promises of Scripture and the hope of Israel. They knew a resurrection was coming at the last day, and perhaps they assumed Jesus’ presence would bring comfort as they waited for that distant hope.

But Jesus directed their attention to a specific tomb—the resting place of Lazarus. Martha, ever practical and honest, reminded Him that the body had already begun to decay. Four days in the grave meant the finality of death had fully settled in. Her words were not doubt so much as realism. She knew what death does. She knew what a tomb becomes.

Jesus pressed her to keep believing. He wanted her to understand that no condition of the dead—no length of time, no degree of decay, no circumstance of burial—can hinder His power. The God who formed humanity from dust is not limited by what dust becomes. The One who breathed life into Adam is not constrained by the state of a corpse. Whether a body lies intact, or broken, or scattered, or long dissolved, the promise remains unchanged: the dead will rise at His command.

This moment at Lazarus’ tomb becomes a declaration for all generations. Nothing will obstruct the resurrection. No grave is too old. No body is too far gone. No circumstance is beyond the reach of the One who is the Resurrection and the Life. The miracle that follows is a sign pointing to the day when every believer—wherever they lie, however long they have slept—will hear His voice and come forth.

The hope of the church rests on this certainty. Christ does not merely comfort the grieving; He overturns the cause of grief. He does not simply stand beside tombs; He empties them. The raising of Lazarus is a preview of the universal resurrection, a promise sealed by Christ’s own victory over death.

A prayer rises naturally from this truth: Thank You, Lord, for the promise to raise the dead, for the assurance that no grave is beyond Your reach, and for the hope that rests securely in Your power and Your word.

Posted in resurrection | Tagged | Leave a comment

he cares, he conquers

Posted on December 4, 2018 by Jefferson Vann
20181128

John 11:31-36

31 The Jews also, who were with her in the house comforting her saw that Mary got up quickly and went out. They followed her, supposing that she was going to the tomb to cry there.

32 As soon as Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!”

33 That was when Jesus saw her crying, and the Jews who had come with her crying, he was deeply moved in his spirit and shook himself.

34 “Where have you put him?” he asked. “Lord,” they told him, “come and see.”

35 Jesus wept.

36 That was why the Jews said, “See how much he cared about him!”

he cares, he conquers

God has opened a window into His own heart in the scene at Lazarus’ tomb. The tears of Jesus are not symbolic or staged; they reveal something true about the very being of God. The Son shows the Father, and in the Son’s weeping, the Father’s compassion is made visible. Human grief is not met with divine indifference. The sorrow felt at the death of loved ones is echoed in the heart of the One who created them. The Lord of life does not stand aloof from the pain death inflicts. He enters it, feels it, and grieves with His people.

Yet His compassion is never separated from His power. The same Christ who weeps is the Christ who conquers. He does not merely sympathize with the brokenness of the world; He overthrows it. His tears at the tomb are followed by a command that shatters the silence of death. Lazarus comes forth, not because death is weak, but because Christ is stronger. The miracle becomes a sign of the greater resurrection still to come, when all who sleep in the dust will hear His voice and rise.

This is the hope given to every believer. Death is real, but it is not final. It wounds, but it cannot claim victory. Those who sleep in Christ are not lost; they are held. The One who wept at a single grave will one day stand over every grave and call His people to everlasting life. The resurrection is not a distant dream but a promised event, secured by the One who has already defeated death in His own rising.

The glimpse God gives into His heart is therefore both tender and triumphant. He cares deeply for His people in their sorrow, and He has already determined to undo the cause of that sorrow forever. The God who weeps is the God who raises.

A fitting prayer rises from this truth: Thank You, Lord, for caring about Your people in their grief. Thank You for the promise of resurrection and the assurance that death will not have the last word.

Posted in Jesus Christ, resurrection, second coming | Tagged | Leave a comment

You need to see this

Posted on December 3, 2018 by Jefferson Vann
John 11:27-30

27 She said to him “Absolutely, Lord, I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” 28 After saying this, she went back and called her sister Mary, saying in private, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 As soon as Mary heard this, she got up quickly and was coming to him. 30 Jesus had not yet come into the village but was still in the place where Martha had encountered him.

You need to see this

Martha’s confession had already revealed a heart anchored in resurrection hope, and Jesus had just unfolded the breathtaking truth that He Himself would raise the dead. When He asked whether she believed this, her response was not hesitant or polite. It was firm, wholehearted, and immediate. She did not simply agree; she affirmed with conviction that everything He said was true. Her faith rose to meet His revelation.

And then she moved. She went straight to Mary. Whatever Jesus was about to do, Mary needed to be there. Martha understood that the moment ahead was not merely about their brother—it was about the glory of Christ. She wanted her sister to witness it, to stand in the presence of the One who holds authority over life and death. Her urgency reflects a heart that grasps the significance of what is unfolding. When resurrection power is about to be displayed, those who love Jesus should be gathered close.

This scene becomes a quiet parable for the church. The next great event in God’s redemptive timetable is the resurrection of the dead and the return of Christ. That moment will not be hidden in a small village; it will encompass the whole world. The dead in Christ will rise, and the living will be transformed. The glory revealed at Lazarus’ tomb was a sign pointing toward that final day when every grave will yield its redeemed.

If that day is approaching—and Scripture insists it is—then now is the time for urgency. Not panic, not frenzy, but purposeful movement. Martha went quickly to Mary because Mary needed to encounter Jesus before the miracle. In the same way, believers today are called to go to those who need to meet Christ before the resurrection dawns. The gospel is not a message to be stored away for safer times. It is a summons to bring others into the presence of the One who will raise the dead.

The church lives between promise and fulfillment, between the sign at Bethany and the final trumpet. The hope of resurrection fuels mission. It shapes priorities. It awakens compassion. It sends believers toward others with the same earnestness Martha showed toward her sister.

A prayer rises naturally from this truth: Lord, we long for Your return and the resurrection You promised. Until that day, make us faithful messengers who bring others to You while there is still time.

Posted in evangelism, resurrection, witness, written on the Appalachian Trail | Leave a comment

Resurrection faith

Posted on December 2, 2018 by Jefferson Vann

John 11:23-26

23 “Your brother will rise again,” Jesus told her. 24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am that resurrection and that life. The one believing in me, even if he dies, will live again. 26 “Everyone who is living and believing in me will certainly not die permanently. Do you believe this? “

Resurrection faith

Lazarus’ resurrection stands as one of the great sign-miracles of John’s Gospel, a moment designed not merely to comfort a grieving family but to reveal the identity and mission of Jesus. What happened outside that tomb in Bethany was not an isolated act of compassion; it was a preview of the final day when Christ will summon every believer from the grave. The raising of Lazarus points forward to the resurrection of all who belong to Him. It declares that Jesus is not simply a healer of the sick but the Lord of life and death, the One who will call the dead to rise at the last trumpet.

When Jesus speaks to Martha, His words reach far beyond her immediate sorrow. He describes a future in which two groups of believers will stand together in glory: those who have died and will be raised, and those who will be alive at His coming and will never taste death at all. Both groups will share the same destiny—life in the presence of the risen Christ. His promise is not vague or symbolic. It is concrete, bodily, and certain. The resurrection He describes is not a spiritual metaphor but the climactic act of God in history.

Jesus’ question to Martha—“Do you believe this?”—is not a gentle aside. It is the central question of Christian faith. A belief system without resurrection may offer moral guidance or emotional comfort, but it cannot offer hope. It cannot defeat death. It cannot sustain the soul in the face of loss. Faith that stops short of resurrection is thin, brittle, and unable to bear the weight of human suffering. But faith anchored in the coming resurrection is vibrant and strong. It is the faith Scripture calls us to embrace: trust in the Christ who will raise the dead, renew creation, and make all things new.

This is the faith that carried Martha through her grief. It is the faith that has sustained the church through centuries of loss. And it is the faith that shapes the longing of believers today. The resurrection is not an optional doctrine; it is the heartbeat of Christian hope, the promise that Christ will finish what He began and that death will not have the final word over any of His people.

A prayer rises naturally from this truth: Lord, we anxiously await Your return and the resurrection You promised.

Posted in faith, resurrection, written on the Appalachian Trail | Tagged | Leave a comment