Today, Lord Christ, may you drive out
the prince of this world,
from every mind and heart,
from every body and soul,
from every home and workplace,
from every government and community,
so that all people might live free
of tyranny, suffering, and injustice.
There are so many, both seen and unseen,
who vie for power.
May your power overcome all rivals.

Becoming a spiritual person must, by definition, involve learning to discern the voice of the Divine. In a noisy, raucous world, this is a particularly daunting task. But really, the world has always been louder than the voice of God. If it has ever been possible at all, then it must still be possible today.

The challenge, I think, has always been basically the same. Since God’s voice can come to us in a variety of ways—natural phenomena, other spiritual beings, other human beings, our own inner thoughts and emotions, etc.—then it is easy to misidentify him.

Is a natural human drive. At its most basic, instinctual level, it probably deserves a lot of credit for keeping our species alive.

Suffering, of course, can have many degrees and nuances besides physical suffering that might threaten our bodily life. Sometimes it feels more like a difficulty, or adversity. Sometimes it feels more like discomfort or annoyance. The spectrum that runs between great joy and deep suffering is wide and rich. The path from the valley of death to the mountain peak of life is long, rugged, and often not clearly marked, yet we keep climbing as best we can.

Winning and losing are tricky words to define. Because wherever you end with one you must begin the other. And that works both ways.

The winners of the world have built their lives, and entire industries, on their path to apparent success. Which thereby also defines the losers. I’m not meaning to say that the winners are wrong, only that their definition of winning—which is also probably mine and yours, if we’re really honest—is biased against the actual reality of the universe.

Is the same place where everything goes to die: into the ground. Buried in the dark. Hidden from the light of day. No longer a part of the active life of the world.

Now that it is gone, nothing will ever be quite the same. But the death of a dream is not the death of all dreams.

In the dark soil, magnificent and magical processes are at work. Its shell is broken open. It sends out roots. It pushes through the dirt, reaching for the sunlight. It grows leaves, flourishes into blossom, and eventually bears the fruit of possibilities never before dreamt of.

Are the easiest paths. Often getting things done is quicker when you know someone who knows someone. No one is an island; together we are a continent of relationships.

I suppose it can happen, but in 30 years of following Jesus, I don’t think I’ve known a single person who simply came to Christ all on their own. I don’t know anyone who found him in a vacuum. There was always, to one degree or another, at least one significant person that played a role in their path to encountering the divine.

To pique someone’s interest. If there’s a compelling story, people will drop whatever they’re doing to keep up on the latest developments, and to even go check it out with their own eyes if they’re able.

Whenever Jesus shows up, he always leaves a story in his wake. It might be rather fantastic (like raising someone from the dead, for example), or it might seem more insignificant (like telling someone they’re sins are forgiven), but there’s still a story worth telling.

Slow on the uptake. A bit behind the curve. Rather dense or dim. Not always the sharpest tools in the shed.

Pay attention to Jesus. Listen as closely as you can. But don’t get overly anxious about whether or not you’re catching it all just right. Anxiety will only impair your senses.

One writer says that Jesus found a young donkey, as if he himself sought it out.

Another writer says that Jesus sent his disciples ahead with explicit instructions on how to find a specific donkey, along with her colt.

Yet another writer says they were sent with instructions on finding only a colt.

And yet another writer says that Jesus sent his disciples to fetch a single colt, but to promise that they would bring it back.

If you read the stories carefully, there are some obvious discrepancies. If you read enough other stories in the Gospels, you will find other such discrepancies—some that seem more or less significant than the donkey / colt business. Some try to consolidate these accounts. Some take it to mean that nothing in the Scriptures is reliable.

At the same time that Jesus was riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, through the entrance on the opposite side of the city, the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, was arriving on a horse. Jesus was followed by his rag-tag band of disciples; Pilate was accompanied by a military brigade. Jesus had come to bring peace by way of self-sacrifice; Pilate had come to keep the peace by intimidation—and by brute force if necessary.

There were crowds to celebrate each of them. One arrival was a cobbled together, last-minute communal expression of hope, the other was a military parade.

There are still crowds celebrating each of them.