We know what often happens when people gain power: sooner or later, they start asking how it can benefit them. Ephesians 1:22–23 says everything is under Jesus’ feet and presents Him as head of the church, but he’s not seeking to use power the same way as those others. Just what kind of King is He? What does His reign mean for those who belong to Him?
In the movies, every important meeting starts with a clear “You may be wondering why I’ve called you here today.” Real meetings leave you guessing the whole time—and sometimes long after. We often treat God’s Word the same way, yet Ephesians 1 addresses the question head-on: why are you here?
Most of us know what it’s like to mean every word of a commitment to God and then watch ourselves fail it just the same. Peter, the disciple who promised to die for Jesus and then denied him three times, knew that feeling better than anyone. John 21 is for all of us who find ourselves in that failed committer camp.
We can be inclined to delay approaching God, too busy obsessing on our doubts to come, much like Thomas in John 20. But Thomas _did_ come and so should we.
Most of us would rather keep our doubts quiet than be caught not having it all figured out—especially around people who assume we do. Nicodemus, one of the most respected religious teachers of his day, came to Jesus under cover of night with exactly that tension, and in John 3 Jesus meets him there, in the dark, unfinished.
When things feel urgent and broken, we want a solution that works right now—and that impatience is exactly what Luke 19 puts on display as the Palm Sunday crowd shouts “Hosanna” at Jesus, certain he’s about to deliver the instant fix they’ve been waiting for.
Selfishness is sneaky—it feels like commonsense in the moment. As the disciples sat right in front of Jesus, they struggled with the same self-centered question we all are challenged: “But what about me?”
