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40 Days with Jesus: Daily Imaginative Thoughts and Reflections for Lent
40 Days with Jesus: Daily Imaginative Thoughts and Reflections for Lent
40 Days with Jesus: Daily Imaginative Thoughts and Reflections for Lent
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40 Days with Jesus: Daily Imaginative Thoughts and Reflections for Lent

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Why must we endure times of waiting?
In the night, we wait for the morning.
In loneliness, toil, or sickness, we wait for relief.
Jesus's forty-day fast was a time of waiting, and in that time, He became vulnerable and needy just like we are. God became a person for a reason, so we can imitate and learn to be like Him – not as clones, but as beloved daughters and sons.
As we fast during Lent, 40 Days with Jesus takes us on a daily imaginative journey through our fasting wilderness of Lent and leads us back home to resurrection life.
40 Days with Jesus is perfect for individual meditations or group discussions. The reflection questions that follow each daily devotional help to link spiritual mysteries to ordinary living.
40 Days with Jesus is the perfect companion for the Lenten fast, for any Christian tradition, and helps a reader better understand personal suffering and the many theodicies in life.
After experiencing the 40 Days with Jesus, a reader will find strength and grow in appreciation for the rewards that follow a season of waiting on God.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateJan 5, 2022
ISBN9781733910989
40 Days with Jesus: Daily Imaginative Thoughts and Reflections for Lent

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    40 Days with Jesus - William Urban

    INTRODUCTION

    One icy February, I watched the rusty Jeep Wrangler slide back and forth through the deep snow that buried my driveway. The face of the driver behind the windshield looked grave as he focused on missing all the permanent objects nearby, and the old engine revved and snorted in defiance of winter. I did my part to shovel a path to the garage while the determined plow sliced through drifts and cut a perfect canyon to the road. Then, with my cars liberated, the big man jumped out, grabbed an eighteen-inch coal shovel, and began to finish the parts he couldn’t reach with his plow.

    The two of us faced each other with the job done, smoking breath, red cheeks, and white flakes of fresh snow covering our hats and coats. I had known Tracy (not his real name) for several years as my son’s soccer coach. We were casual friends. He was usually strapping, vigorous, and full of life, but today he wasn’t himself. During mild weather, Tracy owned a small construction company; by winter, he piloted his snowplow rig with the skill of an Olympic skier, but his real passion was playing jazz with his band.

    As we settled the bill, I noticed a look of deep pain in Tracy’s eyes and thought of asking, Are you okay? Instead, knowing the demand on snowplow drivers during winter storms, I asked, Are you getting any sleep? Tracy’s eyes studied mine, perhaps trying to penetrate my soul trying to figure out if I was safe, but he finally said, I’m okay. He tried to keep calm, but suddenly, not able to hold back the flood, he burst out, It’s Travis, my son; he’s in trouble, and I don’t know what to do.

    As we stood in the cold, he poured out his story; after Tracy’s divorce and remarriage, his son had fallen in with the wrong crowd and had moved out to live in the local party house with a punk band. Living with drugs, alcohol, and a reckless lifestyle, Travis was on a trajectory toward jail or worse, and Tracy and Travis’s stepmom ached with worry for him. Silently we stared at each other, and either from the icy wind or the pain of helplessness, our eyes glistened with tears. Eventually, I asked Tracy if he believed in God, and he said that he and his new wife had just started going to church. Then with gentle boldness, I explained that I had experienced transforming miracles of Jesus in my life and believed that God could turn Travis’s life around if we would earnestly pray for him in faith.

    As Tracy drove away, my heart swelled with anger toward the corrupting forces that destroy people through hopeless ness, unbelief, and sin. Moved with compassion for Tracy and Travis, I determined to fast for the entire season of Lent and pray for Travis and the others at the party house.

    Later that summer, a bright-white pickup truck pulled into my driveway sporting dual rear wheels and loaded with construction gear and tools. Tracy was in the driver’s seat; next to him was Travis—both men looking strong and healthy. The party house is gone—as the result of a lusty fire and consequent demolition crew—and has become a parking lot. Because of that experience, I have gained a profound respect for the tradition of praying and fasting during Lent.

    Years later, I was in an arid time of life. Work and relational stresses weighed on me so heavily that I could hardly sleep at night or think clearly during the day. The things that usually gave me joy didn’t help, and my marriage was in survival mode. I felt unwanted and alone yet experienced immense pressure to perform at my job and was responsible for outcomes I couldn’t control. Frustration pounded me to numbness, and I felt the need for a fresh touch from God to keep going.

    I decided to approach Lent with no agenda except to hear whatever wisdom the LORD was willing to give me. I fasted from two of my favorite foods. Each day I came to my daily prayers with my journal opened to a blank page and asked the Holy Spirit to reveal His heart. Each time, I waited until something new came into my mind. I began to imagine myself

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