Good Morning Friends,
Many fears throughout history have faded on their own or proved far less catastrophic than expected—like the Y2K panic, early worries that television or telephones would ruin social life and literacy, the 1890s horse‑manure crisis that vanished with the arrival of cars, concerns about “superweeds” from genetic engineering, anxiety over email overload, and even the global ozone scare, which eased as the world adapted and solutions emerged. Together they show how often human creativity, adaptation, and changing circumstances quietly dissolve problems that once felt overwhelming.Today’s scriptures gather around a single, sobering truth related to our experience of such fears in our spiritual life as well. You see, God’s redemption always unfolds at the very moment the world calls a crisis. What looks like collapse becomes the turning point of salvation. What appears to be defeat becomes the doorway to glory. What feels like the end becomes the beginning of God’s new creation. Isaiah, the psalmist, Paul, and Jesus Himself all speak into this moment—this krisis, the Greek word that means not only a moment of danger but a moment of judgment, decision, and decisive turning. Holy Week is full of such moments. And so are our lives. So, Have You Ever Experienced A Spiritual Crisis Becoming A Calling?
Scripture Summaries:
Isaiah 49:1–7
Isaiah’s Servant is called from the womb, yet his ministry unfolds in rejection, weariness, and apparent failure. Still, God says:The Servant’s crisis becomes his calling. His weakness becomes the stage for God’s glory. His discouragement becomes the seedbed of hope for the world.
Psalm 71:1–14
The psalmist cries out from a lifetime of trouble: This is not naïve trust. It is seasoned trust—trust that has survived disappointment, aging, betrayal, and fear. It is the trust of someone who has learned that God’s steadfast love is not undone by crisis but revealed through it.
1 Corinthians 1:18–31
Paul reminds us that the cross is God’s great reversal. What the world calls foolish, God calls power. What Satan believed was his triumph became his undoing. What looks like weakness becomes the wisdom that remakes the world. The cross is the crisis where every false sovereignty collapses.
John 12:20–36
Jesus stands at the threshold of His Passion and names the hour for what it is: A crisis. A judgment. A turning. And how will this overthrow happen? Not by force. Not by spectacle. Not by worldly power. But by a grain of wheat falling into the earth. By a life poured out. By love stronger than death. Jesus reveals that the crisis is not the end—it is the moment the new covenant is written on human hearts.
Message: The crisis of Holy Week is not simply historical—it is personal. It is the moment when we decide whether we will live the New Covenant life Jesus offers. Jeremiah foresaw a covenant written not on tablets but on hearts. Jesus fulfills it with His own blood. The Temple system collapses; the old structures fall; the powers of darkness have their hour. Yet in that very hour, God is doing His deepest work. Satan’s apparent victory becomes his defeat. Jesus’ apparent defeat becomes His glorification. Our apparent endings become God’s new beginnings. Every crisis in our lives carries this same invitation: Will we cling to the old, or will we let God write something new on our hearts? Holy Week asks us to stand where the Greeks stood in John 12—seeking Jesus, longing to see Him clearly, ready to follow the Light even when the path leads through shadow. And like the Servant, like the psalmist, like Paul, we discover that God’s sovereignty is not shaken by crisis. It is revealed in it.Think about it for a moment. Moses was a fugitive who became a liberator. For Joseph betrayal becomes a platform for blessing. For Esther, personal risk becomes communal rescue. For Jonah, the crisis of a storm becomes the classroom where God reshapes reluctant hearts and recommissioned a prophet. Grief for Isaiah becomes a doorway to a vision. In the life of Peter Jesus turns shame into shepherding. God takes the violent life of Paul and following the crisis of his blindness, transforms his zeal gone wrong into zeal redeemed.The persecution of the early church becomes a mission. And most importantly, the crisis of the cross becomes the world’s redemption. Every Christian calling is patterned after this shape—death into life.God often forges a calling in the very place where life feels most fragile. Crisis doesn’t disqualify; it awakens. It strips away illusions of control and reveals what God has been preparing all along.
And So, as you prepare for the drama of the Passion… thinking about the Palm branches, alabaster jars, hosannas, laments, and the quiet ache of Maundy Thursday—remember this: Crisis is the place where God’s covenant becomes personal. Crisis is the place where the grain falls and new life begins. Crisis is the place where the Light still shines. Even in March Madness, even in choir rehearsals, even in caregiving, even in grief, even in the quiet of a Naples morning—God is writing His covenant on our hearts. And Christ, the Suffering Servant, walks with you and me into a new day.
Pray we give thanks for the gift of life and the fellowship we share. Pray we recognize Jesus’ sacrificial love as the foundation of the New Covenant written on our hearts. Pray the Holy Spirit strengthens our faith so we may be worthy disciples in crisis and in calm. Pray we trust that God does not abandon us, even in suffering. Pray we embrace the peace that surpasses understanding, living as people freed and loved. Pray Christ’s heart becomes our heart. Pray we look beyond the problem of crisis to the calling God has prepared for us. Pray we love God, love others and make disciples.
Blessings,
John Lawson
Daily Devotionals 