Religion

Wednesday, January 7, 2026

The Restoration Series: Beauty from Ashes

 

Session Six: Rest That Remains

Based on Hebrews 4:9–11


I. Rest That Is Still Available

Hebrews makes a surprising claim.

“There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God.” (Hebrews 4:9)

Rest is not framed as a reward for those who finish well.
It is described as something that still exists.

Available.
Present.
Unexpired.

Rest has not been withdrawn because of failure.
It has not been postponed until heaven.

It remains.


II. Rest That Is Entered, Not Achieved

The writer of Hebrews is careful with language.

“Anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works.” (Hebrews 4:10)

Rest is not accomplished through effort.
It is entered through release.

This rest is not inactivity.
It is the end of self-justifying labor.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“Rest is trusting that God is at work even when you are not.”

Rest begins when striving loses its moral authority.


III. Why We Resist Rest

Hebrews names the resistance plainly.

“Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest.” (Hebrews 4:11)

This is not a contradiction.
It is an exposure.

We resist rest because effort feels safer.
Because productivity gives us leverage.
Because rest requires trust without proof.

Thomas Merton observed,

“The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace.”

Rest threatens the illusion that everything depends on us.


IV. Rest After Peace Has Been Established

Rest does not come before peace.

It follows it.

Once peace has ruled.
Once fear has lost authority.
Once striving has been named.

Then rest becomes possible.

Dallas Willard reminds us,

“You are not what you do. You are who you are becoming.”

Rest allows becoming to continue without force.


V. Rest as a Place to Live From

This Sabbath-rest is not a pause.
It is a location.

A way of inhabiting life where:

  • urgency no longer dominates

  • explanation is no longer required

  • and identity is not under negotiation

Brennan Manning once said,

“The saved sinner is at rest in God, even while unfinished.”

Rest does not mean completion.
It means safety.


Practicing Rest That Remains This Week

Notice where you are still proving something.
Pay attention to habits driven by justification rather than calling. Rest begins when proving is no longer necessary.

Release work that no longer belongs to you.
Name responsibilities you have carried out of fear rather than assignment. Lay them down deliberately.

Practice stopping without explanation.
Let yourself pause without narrating or defending it. Rest does not need permission.

Remain in peace without moving forward.
Do not rush to the next step simply because calm has arrived. Stay where steadiness has settled.

Trust what God continues without your effort.
Believe that what is truly yours will not require exhaustion to maintain.

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

The Restoration Series: Beauty from Ashes

 

Session Five: He Took Her by the Hand

Based on Mark 5:35–42


I. Healing That Arrives After Hope Has Died

Some healing arrives too late for optimism.

While Jesus is still on His way, the news comes.

“Your daughter is dead. Why bother the teacher anymore?” (Mark 5:35)

This is not uncertainty.
It is finality.

Grief announces itself as fact.
Hope is told to stop asking.

Jesus responds with a single sentence.

“Do not be afraid. Just believe.” (Mark 5:36)

Healing begins not by denying death, but by refusing fear its final word.


II. A Hand Reaching Into What Looks Finished

Jesus enters the house where mourning is already loud.

People are weeping.
Professional grief has taken over.
The story feels sealed.

Then Jesus does something startling.

“He took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha koum.’” (Mark 5:41)

He does not shout.
He does not command the room.
He takes her hand.

Healing comes quietly, through touch.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“God’s healing power touches us most deeply where we feel most powerless.”

The hand Jesus takes is small.
Still.
Unresponsive.

Yet He takes it anyway.


III. When Healing Requires Intimacy, Not Spectacle

Jesus clears the room.

Not everyone is invited to witness this moment.

Healing here is not a performance.
It is intimate.

Parents.
Presence.
Touch.

Thomas Merton observed,

“The contemplative life is not a withdrawal from reality, but a deeper entrance into it.”

Jesus enters the deepest reality of this family’s grief.

He does not avoid it.
He does not manage it.
He steps into it gently.


IV. Life Returning Through a Handhold

The girl rises.

Not dramatically.
Not triumphantly.

Simply alive.

“Immediately the girl stood up and began to walk around.” (Mark 5:42)

Healing here is practical.
Embodied.
Ordinary.

Jesus even instructs them to give her something to eat.

Restoration is not only miraculous.
It is sustaining.

Dallas Willard reminds us,

“Grace is not opposed to effort, it is opposed to earning.”

Life returns through grace, then continues through care.


V. What This Teaches Us About Healing

Jesus does not avoid what looks finished.

He does not fear touching what others have given up on.

Healing is not always about reversing death.
Sometimes it is about restoring life where despair declared an ending.

Hands that heal do not require certainty.
They require willingness.


Practicing He Took Her by the Hand This Week

Notice where you have stopped expecting life.
Pay attention to places you have quietly accepted as finished. Jesus often reaches precisely where hope has been told to stop.

Allow God near what feels beyond repair.
You do not need to prepare yourself for healing. Invite Jesus into places that feel untouched by possibility.

Value intimacy over explanation.
Some moments require fewer words and more presence. Healing often unfolds in quiet, relational space.

Receive restoration in ordinary ways.
Notice how healing shows up through small acts of care and sustenance. God often restores life through what seems simple.

Trust touch over timing.
Healing does not always arrive on schedule. But when God reaches out, it is never careless or late.

Monday, January 5, 2026

The Restoration Series: Beauty from Ashes

 

Session Four: The Hands That Heal Still Bear Wounds

Based on Luke 24:36–40


I. Healing That Begins With Presence

After the resurrection, Jesus comes to His disciples quietly.

They are gathered behind closed doors.
Afraid.
Uncertain.
Unsure whether hope itself can be trusted again.

“While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’” (Luke 24:36)

Healing does not begin with explanation.
It begins with presence.

Jesus does not wait for their faith to stabilize.
He enters the room as they are.


II. Why Jesus Shows His Hands

The disciples are startled.
Fear overtakes joy.

“They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost.” (Luke 24:37)

Jesus responds by directing their attention.

“Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself.” (Luke 24:39)

He does not prove Himself with power.
He reveals Himself through continuity.

These are the same hands they watched heal the sick.
The same hands that broke bread.
The same hands that were pierced.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“The wounds of Jesus are not only the place of pain, but the source of healing.”

Healing begins when fear recognizes love again.


III. Wounds That Do Not Disqualify

The resurrection does not erase the marks of suffering.

Jesus’ hands are still scarred.
Still marked.
Still recognizable.

This matters.

Because the disciples carry wounds too.
Betrayal.
Shame.
Silence.

Jesus does not ask them to explain themselves.
He invites them to look.

Thomas Merton observed,

“The Christ we encounter is not an idea but a presence.”

Presence heals what explanation cannot.

The hands that heal are not untouched by pain.
They are trustworthy because they have known it.


IV. Healing After Failure

These are the same disciples who fled.
Who denied.
Who hid.

Jesus does not confront them with accusation.

There is no record of blame in His greeting.
Only peace.
Only invitation.

Brennan Manning once said,

“The risen Christ is not the eraser of our failures but the redeemer of them.”

Healing happens when shame realizes it is still wanted.

Jesus’ hands heal because they do not withdraw from those who failed Him.


V. What This Reveals About Healing

Jesus heals not by hiding His wounds, but by offering them.

Dallas Willard reminds us,

“God does not waste anything.”

Not suffering.
Not grief.
Not the places where love cost deeply.

Your hands do not need to be perfect to be healing.
They need to be honest.
Available.
Willing to remain open.


Practicing the Hands That Heal This Week

Notice where you believe healing requires perfection.
Pay attention to the places where you hold back because you feel unfinished. Jesus shows that scars do not disqualify presence.

Allow your wounds to be named, not hidden.
Healing often begins when pain is acknowledged rather than disguised. God does not ask you to forget what marked you.

Offer presence without pretending you are whole.
You do not need to be resolved to be faithful. Shared humanity often heals more deeply than polished answers.

Let peace arrive before understanding.
Jesus speaks peace into confusion, not after it clears. Receive what steadies you even if questions remain.

Trust God to redeem what still bears marks.
What you have endured may become the very place others recognize safety. God often heals through what has been carried faithfully.

Sunday, January 4, 2026

The Restoration Series: Beauty from Ashes

 

Session Three: The Hands That Heal

Based on Mark 1:41


I. Compassion That Moves Toward

Jesus does not heal from a distance.

When a man with leprosy approaches Him, the risk is immediate.
The cost is visible.
The boundary is clear.

“Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out His hand and touched the man.” (Mark 1:41)

Before the man is cleansed, he is touched.

Restoration begins not with fixing, but with nearness.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish.”

Healing that restores dignity always moves toward the wounded, not around them.


II. Touch as the Return of Dignity

Leprosy stripped people of more than health.
It stripped them of belonging.
Of touch.
Of social presence.

Jesus’ hand restores what isolation removed.

The touch comes before the cure.
Before the declaration.
Before the reintegration.

Thomas Merton observed,

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves.”

Jesus does not recoil from the man’s condition.
He does not reduce him to a problem.
He treats him as a person worthy of contact.

This is restoration at its most human.


III. Healing That Risks Contamination

Compassion always carries risk.

To touch the unclean was to risk becoming unclean.
To move toward suffering was to absorb its cost.

Jesus does not protect Himself from this exchange.

Brennan Manning once said,

“The gospel is not good advice to improve your life. It is good news that demands your life.”

Healing shaped by love is never sterile.

It costs presence.
It costs vulnerability.
It costs the willingness to be changed by what you encounter.


IV. When Being Seen Is the First Miracle

For the man with leprosy, healing begins before his skin changes.

It begins the moment Jesus looks at him without fear.
The moment a hand reaches out instead of recoiling.
The moment dignity is returned.

Dallas Willard reminds us,

“Love is the will to promote the good of another.”

The good Jesus promotes first is not cure, but worth.

Only after that does the body follow.


V. Becoming Hands That Heal

This story does not end with Jesus alone.

It becomes an invitation.

To notice where we avoid contact.
Where we withhold presence to protect ourselves.
Where healing feels too costly.

Restoration does not ask us to be saviors.
It asks us to be present.

Hands that heal do not rush outcomes.
They offer dignity before solutions.


Practicing the Hands That Heal This Week

Notice where you instinctively pull back.
Pay attention to moments when discomfort, grief, or need makes you retreat. These reactions often point to places where compassion is being invited to grow.

Practice presence before problem-solving.
Resist the urge to fix, advise, or explain away pain. Healing often begins when someone feels seen and accompanied rather than managed.

Honor dignity before outcomes.
Affirm worth without attaching it to improvement or resolution. People do not need to be better in order to be valued.

Allow compassion to cost something small.
Let kindness take time, attention, or emotional energy. True compassion usually requires inconvenience, not heroics.

Ask God to form your hands.
Healing presence is learned, not assumed. Invite God to shape how you reach toward others with gentleness and courage.

Saturday, January 3, 2026

The Restoration Series: Beauty from Ashes

 

Session Two: The Oil of Joy

Based on Isaiah 61:3


I. Joy That Does Not Erase Mourning

Isaiah does not promise the removal of grief.
He promises transformation within it.

“To bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning.” (Isaiah 61:3)

The oil of joy is not a denial of sorrow.
It is not cheerfulness layered over pain.
It is not forced gratitude.

It is a sacred exchange.

Ashes are not swept away.
They are honored.
They are held as the place where beauty begins.

Henri Nouwen wrote,

“Joy does not simply happen to us.
We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.”

This kind of joy is not reactive.
It is cultivated.
It grows slowly in soil that has known loss.


II. Oil as a Sign of God’s Nearness

In Scripture, oil is never casual.

It marks healing.
It signals consecration.
It communicates presence.

The oil of joy suggests closeness.
God does not shout joy from a distance.
He applies it gently, by hand.

Thomas Merton observed,

“The deepest level of communication is not communication, but communion.”

Joy emerges from communion, not resolution.

It is born when God is allowed near the wound.
Not to explain it.
But to tend it.


III. When Joy Feels Unfaithful

For many, joy feels dangerous.

It can feel like betrayal of what was lost.
Like disloyalty to grief.
Like forgetting someone or something sacred.

Isaiah does not ask us to abandon mourning.
He asks us to let God anoint it.

Brennan Manning once said,

“Joy is not the absence of suffering.
It is the presence of God.”

Joy that comes from God does not compete with sorrow.
It coexists with it.

It honors what mattered.
It carries memory forward without being crushed by it.


IV. Beauty That Grows From Ashes

Ashes are the remains of what once burned brightly.

Dreams.
Relationships.
Identities.
Certainties.

God does not shame us for the ashes we carry.
He names them the ground of beauty.

Dallas Willard reminds us,

“God’s kingdom is not a matter of human willpower, but of transformation.”

The oil of joy does not rush this process.

Beauty grows slowly.
Often invisibly.
Usually without announcement.


V. Receiving the Anointing

Isaiah’s promise is deeply personal.

“To bestow on them.”

Joy is given.
It is not achieved.

The oil of joy is received when we stop arguing with our sorrow
and allow God to meet us inside it.

This is not happiness.
It is holiness shaped by tenderness.


Practicing the Oil of Joy This Week

Allow joy to arrive gently.
Joy does not need to announce itself or justify its presence. Small moments of light are not betrayals of grief but signs that your heart is still capable of receiving life. Let joy come without asking it to explain itself.

Let God tend what still aches.
Do not rush past the places that remain tender or unresolved. God’s nearness is often felt most clearly where pain has not yet found words. Invite Him to sit with you there rather than to solve anything.

Refuse false cheerfulness.
Spiritualized happiness can become another form of self-protection. God is not asking you to be upbeat but to be honest. True joy can share space with sorrow without diminishing either.

Receive beauty slowly.
Beauty formed from ashes takes time to emerge. It often arrives quietly, through ordinary moments rather than dramatic change. Pay attention to what feels steady rather than spectacular.

Trust God’s pace with your healing.
Healing shaped by God is rarely rushed. What unfolds slowly is often what lasts. Release the pressure to be further along than you are.