When Jesus walked into the Temple complex and saw a teeming market, filled with sheep and doves and graft and corruption, Jesus knew He couldn’t walk past. “Should I stand by while they turn my Father’s house into a place of thievery?” he says. The answer, of course, is no.

And so the tables are literally turned. Money tumbles onto the cobblestones. Sheep make a quick getaway while they can. And members of the Sanhedrin look on, glowering.

“This is a place of worship!” Jesus shouts.

Peter loves his Master. But this bold move, in full view of Jerusalem’s religious authorities? It makes Peter nervous.

John stands beside Peter, beaming. “This is a good thing,” he reassures Peter. High time someone cleansed the Temple. High time someone took on the corrupt and craven elements in the Almighty’s house.

 Judas watches as a stray coin rolls by his feet. He steps on a piece of silver—as if to hide it—then quickly bends down and picks it off the stone, happy to add it to the disciples’ small coffers.

Or, perhaps, his own.

Jesus’ act is audacious. Impulsive. One more affront to the religious establishment. One more blemish on Jesus’ record. But it’s far from the worst offense: Already, word has reached Caiaphas, leader of the Jewish Sanhedrin, that Jesus has been making outrageous, blasphemous claims about being the Son of God. Unsubstantiated hearsay, Caiaphas realizes—for now. But such abhorrent allegations cannot go unchallenged.

If Jesus insists on turning over tables, then Jesus Himself must be turned over to the authorities. His claims must be investigated. And if deemed fact, this Jesus must die.

But while Caiaphas and his cadre of priests hope to bring a quick end to Jesus’ affrontery, only Jesus understands that His work, in many ways, is just beginning.

Forget flipping over a few tables: Christ means to turn the world itself on its ear.

The post The Last Supper appeared first on Plugged In.

The communists said they hoped for that, too. And part of their vision—rooted in the atheistic ethos of communism—was to “re-educate” all religious citizens in antireligious campaigns.

It’s why they pull a pregnant Neng from her teaching job for questioning. She’s married a man from the British colony of Hong Kong, and her parents sent her to Christian schools for education, so they’re concerned about her commitment to Mao’s vision for China.

Neng adamantly tells them that, though she may have gotten swept up in a Christian bandwagon when she was younger, she grew out of her beliefs as she got older.

But as she thinks about those beliefs she had had as a child, Neng begins to realize that, though distant, perhaps she still does believe in the Christian God.

“Are you a Christian?” A government official demands.

Slowly, the thoughts in her head racing, Neng opens her mouth to respond.

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Proud. Drunken. Womanizing.

Those words all fit him quite well. He might even claim them. He’s also quite competitive.

And that competitive side of him always tends to peek its head up at the wrong time. Especially when Caligula is around, and he’s had too many cups of wine. Yes, it’s definitely unwise for a Roman soldier to purposely ruffle the feathers of Emperor Tiberius’ regent.

But Caligula is such a vile, self-indulgent man that he makes Marcellus look like a saint.

So Marcellus can’t keep himself from goading and prodding the man when he pompously parades into the slave trade. And soon after … Marcellous finds himself punitively posted to some barren outpost out in the desert. A dust bowl called Judaea.

The only good aspect of the whole affair is the fact that Marcellus reconnected with an old friend back at that Roman auction. Well, perhaps she’s more than a friend. Could he say that he once loved the pretty Diana? Perhaps. Perhaps.

In any case, Diana said she would talk to Tiberius on his behalf about Marcellus’ situation. All Marcellus needs to do is hold on for a while, and he’ll be transferred back to civilization before he knows it. And he’ll be returning to Diana. Yes, that prospect is sounding sweeter by the day.

So, Marcellus spends his time sweating and drinking. And waiting. When he’s finally called before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, the man looks very disturbed. Not at Marcellus, but at the fact that he can’t seem to get his hands clean.

There is this magician in the city who’s been giving the governor fits. The Jews—well, many of them—call this bewildering person a “king.” And all Pilate wants is to see the man called Jesus done away with. So, he tells Marcellus to simply crucify this criminal. Then he can be gone, and Marcellus can leave this terrible place.

Marcellus has never killed anyone in this manner, but a few extra cups of wine will surely get him through.

The rest is a blur. Blood on his hands. Dying men breathing their last. Gambling with the Centurion guards.

But there’s something strange about this man they call Jesus. He bleeds and hangs on the cross, to be sure, but it’s as if He calls the time of his death. “Father, forgive them,” the man cries out as Marcellus gazes up at him. “For they know not what they do.” And then He dies.

Marcellus feels the shift before he sees it. The day slides out of gear, the sky grows black. The clouds swell. The people standing around quiver, look up and cry. And then the rains begin to fall.

Marcellus grabs this Jesus’ cast-off robe—for he had won it rolling dice—but when he puts it over his shoulders it burns, it scalds. Is the robe cursed? Or is it something else? Is the pain he feels outside him, or in?

On the way back to Capri, Marcellus falls ill and thrashes in nightmares. And when he reports his story to the superstitious old emperor, Tiberius, the ruler and his soothsayers quickly see what must be happening. Marcellus’ agonies are surely a curse, caused by the foul dead magician and his robe.

Marcellus must return to the parched land of Judaea and find that accursed robe. That is his foresight, his destiny. That will be his salvation, they declare.

And in a way … they’re absolutely right.

The post The Robe appeared first on Plugged In.

And no, it wasn’t a long-lost relative or a neighbor from down the lane asking for a cup of sugar. This was a messenger from God, an honest-to-goodness angel. And the angel came with news: The young woman would give birth to a son.

It was surprising and seemingly impossible news, considering that the young woman was a virgin.

But in time, the woman did miraculously become pregnant. She traveled to Bethlehem with her new husband. There was no room for them in the inn, so they had to stay among the animals. And that is where the virgin gave birth to her son.

It’s the beginning of an incredible story—some would say the greatest story ever told. It’s a tale of miracles and wonder: more angelic visitations, supernatural healings and the ultimate sacrifice. The woman’s son grows into a man. But more than that, he is fully man and fully God. He lives a perfect, sinless life, preaching and teaching and proclaiming the Kingdom of God. He is betrayed, killed and buried, but he rises to new life, conquering death and paving the way to eternal life for all who hope in him.

Maybe you’ve heard of this story.

It’s the account of Jesus of Nazareth.

The post The Jesus Film appeared first on Plugged In.

She’d been born in Azerbaijan (then part of the U.S.S.R.). Her own two daughters were born there, too. Her husband, Ivan, works as a Soviet rocket scientist. She herself is a respected school administrator in Baku, Azerbaijan, and a proud member of the Communist Party.

But ethnically, she’s Armenian. And in the eyes of many, that makes her an outsider.

Nothing new there, either. She’d been used to the occasional side-eye, the derogatory remark, the infrequent burst of ethnic tension. As long as Moscow was in charge, those issues felt minor.

But in 1988, Moscow’s power wanes. The Soviet Union is fraying at its edges. And many former countries—or would-be countries—now strain at the seams, reaching for independence.

And in Azerbaijan, Violetta and her family don’t feel at home anymore—all because they’re Armenian.

Bricks shatter the windows of Armenian businesses. People carry signs promising death to Armenians. The school closes its doors to the Petrosyan girls—a sympathetic teacher telling Violetta that they’re simply not safe at the school anymore.

But it’s only when the shooting begins—executions of Armenians right in the streets—that the Petrosyans flee, running straight into Russia proper. There they hope for another chance at home.

But they find a cold welcome in Volvograd, Russia. Housing is dismal. Jobs are scarce—at least for Armenians. The only hint of friendliness they find is inside a ramshackle church, and that’s hardly a suitable refuge for the secular Petrosyans.

Sure, Violetta and Ivan have a place to stay in Volvograd. The apartment comes with walls, a roof—even heat sometimes. And if they need a bathroom, well, it’s just down the hall.

But a home? They’re still looking.

The post Between Borders appeared first on Plugged In.

However, young Josh Dennis isn’t exactly thinking of finding anything valuable in the mine’s ink-black tunnels. The only thing on his mind is something treasured that he hopes not to lose: his life.

His current situation is all his fault, in a way. When his dad brought him up here to camp nearby and to explore the mine with some other boys and adults, Josh was, well, really nervous. He felt so small compared to the older boys. So inexperienced, so timid. He just couldn’t shake those anxious feelings.

His dad was really cool about it, though. He saw Josh’s fear and sent the others off to explore while they stayed behind and set up camp. His dad smiled. He encouraged.

Josh knew his father wanted to join in with the others. He wanted Josh to stretch. But Josh also sensed Dad’s disappointment.

So, when the gang all came back for a meal, Josh told his dad he wanted to join in and explore the old mine with the rest of them. They were only going to search the maze-like mine tunnels for a few hours before bed. He could handle that. He’d hang at the back, stay out of everybody’s way.

But those tunnels were very, very dark. Without flashlights, you were completely blind. And, being a nice guy, Josh had given his flashlight to an older kid whose bulb burned out.  

Then he lost the group.

One moment, they were right in front of him, flashlights shining this way and that, excited voices talking about tunnels and treasures. And then … they were gone. He could hear the noisy group. But when he called out, they couldn’t hear him. He kept moving, feeling his way along, but the sounds only got farther and farther away. Did he take the wrong tunnel? Should he turn around?

That was, what, a day ago, Josh figures. At first, he had the light from his wristwatch to help him along. But after a while, that died out. Now he’s here, on the edge of what he’s sure is a high ledge. It’s so, so dark. And he’s afraid to move.

All Josh can do is pray and listen for any sounds of rescue. Surely somebody is searching for him, right? But he hasn’t heard anything. Not a sound. He just keeps thinking about the Bible’s story about a mustard seed. Even a mustard seed worth of faith can move a mountain, Jesus said. He has at least that much faith, he reckons. He can pray. Listen. Wait.

What Josh doesn’t realize is that the search has indeed been going full steam. When they discovered him missing, the campers rushed back in to search. Then they brought in the police. Then they brought in a professional search team.

But despite the team’s diligence, mapping miles of tunnels, marking every turn, every route, they found nothing. Heard nothing.

As they enter into day three, the efforts are looking pretty bleak. Even a search dog comes up empty. The local sheriff is pretty sure how this will end. He takes off his cowboy hat and wipes his brow. He’ll need to figure out the right words for Josh’s anguished parents.

Oh, and there’s also a guy named John Skinner who’s at war with himself. Several nights back he had been camping alone in the woods of Montana and distinctly heard a whisper in his ear. He startled awake at the words: Help them see.

Help who? he thought. See what?

John wonders what he can possibly do to help someone, somewhere, see something! But the whispers won’t stop.

Any outside observer would likely think it’s impossible to make all of these disparate things work together for the good of one lost boy in a maze of blackness. Especially since precious time is ticking quickly by.

Young Josh, however, continues to cling to his mustard seed of faith.

The post Faith of Angels appeared first on Plugged In.

The faith in America, that is.

In Germany, Bonhoeffer grew up in the intellectual pursuit of God. He knew God was good. How could he not? He spent long hours specifically studying that fact.

But in America, under Rev. Adam Clayton Powell Sr., Bonhoeffer saw faith spill out into action. He saw a people who not only knew that the Lord was good—they actually believed it, too, so much so that it changed their lives. The experience had a heavy impact on Bonhoeffer, who returned to Germany an opponent of cheap grace and a proponent of costly grace.

“Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession,” Bonhoeffer wrote in The Cost of Discipleship. “Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will go and sell all that he has […] Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.”

But when Bonhoeffer returns to Germany, ready to revive a nation he saw stuck in stagnant faith, he finds a church under siege by the elected Nazi powers, in which churches are now commanded to fall in line under the consolidated Reichskirche or else face the consequences.

They tear down images of Jesus and the apostles. They add new regulations to the Ten Commandments. What’s more, they claim Jesus was Aryan rather than Jewish, and they call Adolf Hitler a “prophet and a true savior.” And much to Bonhoeffer’s dismay, many churches acquiesce to the blasphemous rule of the Nazis.

But Bonhoeffer’s life has been changed. Christianity is no longer about the mere study of God; it’s living for Him, too. He unites with the Confessing Church, a movement of Protestant pastors who oppose the Nazification of Germany and who speak out against the Nazi persecution of the Jews.

But Bonhoeffer believes he can do more. He could do things that go against his pacifistic convictions. In fact, if things go to plan, he could even help assassinate Hitler.

“Is Hitler the first evil ruler since Scripture was written?” a pastor protests when Dietrich considers the plot.

“No,” Bonhoeffer admits. “But he is the first one I can stop.”

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But even equipped with that knowledge, it certainly couldn’t have been easy for Mary.

When the Holy Spirit came upon Mary, she was still a virgin, betrothed to Joseph. After learning the news, Joseph planned to divorce her quietly, not wanting to put Mary to shame. But then an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, telling him the truth about Mary’s conception and informing him that the child would save the world.

However, that’s not where Mary’s troubles ended. She, Joseph and the newborn baby Jesus were hunted by King Herod. Countless children were murdered by Herod’s men in the pursuit. And when it was all said and done, albeit, many years later, Mary still had to witness her son’s death on the cross.

Now, that’s what the Bible tells us.

However, Netflix’s Mary tells us there might be more to the story. There might be more to Mary herself.

The post Mary appeared first on Plugged In.

That might be said for the annual pageant held every year in the little town of Emmanuel. For 74 years, the pageant had gone off like clockwork. Oh, different  Marys and Josephs and wise men might’ve come and gone. But the nuts and bolts of the production never changed: Angels would sing Christmas carols. Kids would shuffle on and off stage in bathrobes. Mary and Joseph would look down at their wriggling infant in the manger and silently encourage the audience to consider this, the greatest gift the world had ever received.

That was supposed to have been the case for the 75^th performance, too.

The Herdman kids are Emmanuel’s own collective township terror. Beth, a classmate and frequent target of ringleader Imogene Herdman, knows just how bad they can be. “They lied,” Beth tells us. “They stole. They smoked cigars—even the girls.” Threats and violence came second nature to the whole Herdman clan, and they honed both with ever so much practice. They even burned down Fred Shoemaker’s ugly tool shed.

“My father said that was the only good thing the Herdmans ever did,” Beth reports. “And if they had known it was a good thing, they wouldn’t have done it at all.”

Most of the townsfolk might’ve thought that the Herdmans would’ve burst into flames if they ever stepped into church. But lured by the promise of free food and candy, step in they did, and none of them so much as sparked. Soon, all six of them volunteered to fill the most prominent roles in Emmanuel’s Christmas pageant: Mary, Joseph, the three wise men and the Angel of the Lord.

And because there were no other volunteers—the Herdmans made sure of that—they took over the pageant itself, lock, stock and manger. 

What happens when the chaotic, bruising force of the Herdmans runs headlong into a tradition that never, ever changes? Well, the entire town of Emmanuel is about to find out.

And they wouldn’t miss this Christmas pageant for the world.

The post The Best Christmas Pageant Ever appeared first on Plugged In.

But his commitment to thanking God publicly, on the 50-yard line, after every high school football game he helped to coach in Bremerton, Washington, made him one anyway. In fact, that quiet-but-unwavering commitment took the assistant coach all the way to the Supreme Court in a landmark case involving free speech and religious liberty.

Average Joe tells his remarkable and, as we’ll see, remarkably unlikely true story in a dramatized, pseudo-documentary style.

“I was a hellion of a kid,” Joe (played by Eric Close) tells a dramatized film team documenting his fight for religious liberty. “The last thing I want is it making me out to be some kind of choirboy. I mean, you ask anybody who knows me, I was a hellion of a kid nobody wanted. I was always in trouble or causing it. So if you told me that saying a prayer on the 50-yard line was the thing that was gonna get me in the biggest fight of my life, you can’t tell me that God doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Joe, we soon learn through a series of flashback narration scenes, may not have been looking for this fight. But one way or another, he’s always been a fighter—and often not in a good way.

Those fights began with Joe’s adoptive family. “So when my birth mother gave me up for adoption, she was told I was going to an older, wealthy couple who lived on a farm and couldn’t have kids. … This was a big lie.”

Indeed, the couple had lots of kids—but no farm and no money. And, it seems, no patience for Joe’s combative attitude, either, as a boy who felt abandoned. The only redeeming aspect of young Joe’s life is meeting a girl named Denise, whose parents are constantly fighting.

But Joe and Denise are separated when Joe is eventually sent away to a Christian home for troubled boys. There, a kind and very patient man tries to help Joe find God. “You are a survivor,” the man tells Joe. “But you can’t do it alone. Only God can heal all that hurt and anger.”

“Why would God care about me?” Joe asks, bitterly. “Nobody else does.”

“Because God doesn’t make throwaways. Maybe you should give Him a try.”

And so Joe does, becoming a Marine, fighting in Iraq and eventually reconnecting with Denise after both have first marriages to other people that fail. After finishing active duty with the Marines, Joe ends up coaching high school football in Bremerton, more determined than ever to give God the glory in every aspect of his life: “Alright, God, alright. I’m all in. Win or lose, I’m going to give You thanks after every game.”

It’s a simple prayer, born of conviction. And Joe’s unwavering commitment to quietly thanking God stirs up a hornets’ next of controversy, eventually taking him and Denise all the way to the Supreme Court to defend Joe’s right to pray publicly.

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