What This Day Is About

After the pageantry and palms of Sunday, Monday drops us into confrontation. Jesus walks into the temple—the center of religious life—and finds it corrupted by greed. The outer courts, which were meant to be a place where the nations could come and worship, have been turned into a market. Instead of prayer, there’s profit. Instead of reverence, there’s noise. Jesus flips the tables. Not out of rage, but righteousness. His actions aren’t random; they’re deeply prophetic.

This moment is a warning and a cleansing. It recalls the words of Isaiah and Jeremiah—prophets who cried out against the same kind of spiritual distortion generations before. And it reminds us: Jesus doesn’t come to bless our broken systems—He comes to overturn them.

Monday is the day we begin to ask: What have we allowed to take up sacred space in our lives? What tables need to be flipped in us?

Scripture: Matthew 21v12–17

Prayer

“Jesus, reveal the clutter in me that needs to be overturned.”

Contemplative Thought

Sometimes peace begins with disruption.

We often think peace is the absence of conflict—but the peace of Christ disrupts what has become too comfortable. Jesus doesn’t just come to soothe us; He comes to save us from the things that are slowly draining our souls. Sometimes He clears out the noise so we can hear again. Sometimes He disturbs the surface so the deeper work can begin. If Jesus flipped the tables in your heart today, would it feel like anger or mercy? Either way, it’s love.

Practice

Declutter one space today—your desk, your phone, your calendar, or your room. As you do, pray: “Jesus, make room in me for You.”

Reflection Prompt

What’s occupying space in me that leaves no room for the presence of Christ?

What This Day Is About
Tuesday is a day of teaching and tension. The Gospel writers record that Jesus spent much of this day in the temple courts, answering questions, telling parables, and confronting the religious leaders who were plotting against Him. But before He begins teaching, the disciples notice something strange: the fig tree Jesus cursed the day before is now withered down to its roots.

It seems like a small miracle—but Jesus uses it to open their eyes to the power of prayer and faith. He tells them that even faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. And then He connects it to forgiveness, reminding them that faith isn’t just about belief—it’s about the posture of the heart.

This day is called Tuesday of Holy Week simply because it marks the second full day of Jesus’ final week before the cross. But under the surface, it holds lessons about spiritual fruit, stubborn mountains, hidden pride, and the unseen power of trusting God when everything around you feels stuck.

Tuesday invites us to believe again. To speak to the mountains in our lives. To ask: What does it look like to pray, not out of fear, but out of faith?

Scripture: Mark 11v20–26

Prayer
Jesus, grow something strong in me—even from what feels small.

Contemplative Thought

Mountains move when faith is planted.

Faith isn’t forceful—it’s fertile. It doesn’t bulldoze mountains; it speaks to them and trusts God to move. Some of the biggest breakthroughs in our lives begin with the smallest prayers whispered in our weakness. The kind of faith Jesus talks about doesn’t pretend to be strong—it just shows up. It roots itself in God, not in certainty. The miracle isn’t always in what moves—but in what grows in us while we wait.

Practice
Write down one seemingly impossible thing in your life right now. Don’t try to fix it. Just hold it. Sit quietly for one minute, and ask God to move.

Reflection Prompt
Where have I traded childlike trust for self-reliance?

What This Day Is About
Tradition calls this day Spy Wednesday—a name that sounds like something out of a movie, but carries a shadowy weight. This is the day Judas Iscariot quietly steps into the background of the story and agrees to betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. It’s a turning point in the Passion narrative, though it unfolds offstage.

There are no crowds shouting, no miracles recorded. No parables. Just the haunting silence of betrayal in motion. While Jesus continues teaching and moving toward the cross, one of His own has decided to trade proximity for profit, intimacy for influence.

It’s easy to vilify Judas. But this day is not just about what he did—it’s about what lurks quietly in all of us. Judas didn’t betray Jesus out of hatred. He did it out of disappointment, fear, unmet expectations. He wanted a Messiah who would conquer, not suffer.

Wednesday calls us to examine the subtle ways we bargain with God. It invites us to sit in the silence and ask: Where am I more interested in control than surrender?

Scripture: Matthew 26v14–16

Prayer: Jesus, guard my heart from choosing comfort over communion.

Contemplative Thought

Betrayal doesn’t begin in the moment—it builds in the shadows.

We rarely wake up and decide to walk away from God. It happens gradually. Slowly. In the little compromises. In the resentment we nurse. In the dreams we won’t lay down. In the parts of Jesus’ way we like, and the parts we quietly reject. Wednesday reminds us that the seeds of betrayal aren’t always loud—they grow quietly in the soil of disappointment. But grace is still available, even here. Even now.

Practice
Turn off all screens for one hour today. Create space for silence. Ask yourself honestly: What’s growing in me right now that I haven’t been paying attention to?

Reflection Prompt
Where have I been quietly negotiating with fear?

What This Day Is About
The word Maundy comes from the Latin mandatum, meaning “commandment.” On this night, before His arrest, Jesus gathered with His disciples for the Passover meal and gave them a new command: “Love one another as I have loved you.”

But His kind of love wasn’t abstract. It was embodied. Before the meal even began, Jesus did something shocking—He got down on His knees and washed His disciples’ feet. It was the work of a servant, but Jesus made it the way of the kingdom.

This night is layered with meaning. It holds the institution of communion—the Last Supper. It holds Peter’s bold promises, which will soon crumble into denial. It holds Judas’ quiet exit into the night. It holds the garden, where Jesus weeps and bleeds and prays for the cup to pass from Him. This is the beginning of surrender.

Maundy Thursday calls us to the table and the towel. To love that serves. To bread that is broken. To the presence of God that chooses proximity in the face of betrayal and pain. This day reminds us that before the cross, Jesus shared a meal and washed feet—not to show off, but to show us the way.

Scripture: John 13v1–17

Prayer
Jesus, teach me to serve from love, not from obligation.

Contemplative Thought

The way of the kingdom is always downward.

In a world chasing status, Jesus gets low. He doesn’t cling to power—He lays it down. This is not weakness. It’s the most radical kind of strength. When He wraps the towel around His waist, He’s not just washing feet—He’s reordering how we see love, leadership, and God. Maundy Thursday isn’t just about humility—it’s about giving our lives away in small, unseen ways. The kind of love that stays, kneels, serves. That’s the kingdom.

Practice

Take communion at home today. Here’s how:

You don’t need a sanctuary or a pastor. Just presence and intention.

You’ll need:
Bread or crackers

Grape juice or wine

A moment of quiet (invite your family, housemates, or share it solo)

Steps:

Sit at the table. Light a candle if you have one.

Read Luke 22v19–20 slowly.

Break the bread and say aloud:

“This is the body of Christ, broken for you. Take and eat.”

Pour the cup and say aloud:

“This is the blood of Christ, poured out for the forgiveness of sins. Take and drink.”

Sit in stillness for a moment.

Pray:

“Jesus, thank You for Your body broken and Your blood poured out. Let this meal mark me. Make me more like You.”

Optional Addition:

Wash one another’s hands or feet after communion. Let the towel teach you.

What This Day Is About
Today the Church stands still.

Good Friday is the day Jesus is tried, tortured, and crucified. The day when the crowd that shouted “Hosanna” now cries “Crucify Him.” The day when an innocent man is condemned while a criminal is set free. The day Jesus is beaten, mocked, nailed to wood, and left to die outside the city gates.

But it’s called Good for a reason—not because what happened was painless or easy, but because what happened was holy. Because at the center of all this pain is a love that refuses to retaliate. A love that absorbs violence instead of reflecting it. A love that dies to give life.

On the cross, Jesus bears the weight of our sin and sorrow. He cries out in abandonment so we might never be alone. And when He breathes His last, the temple veil is torn in two—from top to bottom—as if heaven itself is opening a way back to God.

Good Friday isn’t a moment to rush past. It’s not the pre-party to Easter. It’s the place where death meets mercy. It’s where we remember that God didn’t avoid suffering—He entered it. And He did it for love.

Scripture: John 19v1–30

Prayer
Jesus, help me sit in the weight of Your sacrifice without rushing past it.

Contemplative Thought

The veil tore because love refused to be distant.

In the temple, the veil separated the people from the presence of God. Only the high priest could go behind it—and only once a year. But when Jesus died, the veil split wide open. Not from the bottom up, like a human would tear it, but from the top down—like God Himself reached down and said: Enough distance. Come close. The cross doesn’t just deal with sin—it ends separation. The arms of Jesus stretched out, not just in pain, but in welcome. You are invited in. Right here. Right now.

Practice
Join us for our Good Friday Gathering at 6PM

6301 66th Ave N., Pinellas Park, FL 33781

Reflection Prompt
What does it mean for me that Jesus didn’t come down from the cross?

What This Day Is About
Holy Saturday is the quietest day in the story—and maybe the most relatable.

Jesus’ body lies in the tomb. The sky has stopped roaring. The crowds have gone home. The disciples are scattered, hidden behind locked doors. Grief is thick. Confusion is louder than faith. They don’t know what’s coming.

This day is called Holy Saturday not because of what happens, but because of what doesn’t. There are no miracles today. No teachings. No crowds or healings or signs. Just stillness. Just waiting.

But it’s not wasted.

In ancient Christian tradition, this is the day Christ descends to the depths of death—not in defeat, but to declare victory. The early Church called it the harrowing of hell—a phrase that speaks to Jesus breaking into the final stronghold of darkness to set captives free. We don’t see this with our eyes. We receive it in faith.

Holy Saturday reminds us that waiting doesn’t mean God has abandoned us. Silence doesn’t mean absence. This day teaches us how to live in between the promise spoken and the promise fulfilled.

If Good Friday is about surrender, Holy Saturday is about staying. Staying in the story. Staying with the ache. Trusting that even when nothing looks like it’s changing, resurrection is still being prepared beneath the surface.

Scripture: Matthew 27v57–66

Prayer
Jesus, help me live in hope when answers aren’t immediate.

Contemplative Thought

Silence doesn’t mean absence.

When the silence is thick and you can’t feel God’s nearness, it doesn’t mean He’s far away. Holy Saturday teaches us to live in the in-between—the liminal space between what was and what will be. We often resist these seasons, but they shape us more deeply than we realize. Waiting stretches our faith. Silence strengthens our listening. And trust… trust is what holds us when nothing else can. You are not forsaken in the silence. You are being formed.

Practice
Turn off your phone or step away from noise for two hours today. No music. No scrolling. Just quiet. Take a walk, write in a journal, or sit still. Let the silence speak.

Reflection Prompt
Where in my life am I waiting for resurrection?

What This Day Is About
The tomb is empty.

At first light, women go to the place where Jesus was buried—grieving, faithful, heavy with spices and sorrow. But the stone is rolled away. The body is gone. Angels appear. And everything they thought they understood about death is undone.

Easter Sunday—also called Resurrection Sunday—is the holy reversal. It’s when grief gives way to joy, silence breaks open into song, and Jesus, once crucified, is now alive and walking in a garden. He calls Mary by name. He eats with His friends. He shows His wounds and says, Peace.

But Easter is more than a single event. It’s the breaking in of a whole new world. A world where death is no longer the end. A world where sin doesn’t get the final word. A world where Jesus lives—and invites us to live, too.

The resurrection is not just something to celebrate once a year. It’s something we are invited to participate in every day. To walk out of the tombs we’ve been living in. To unlearn despair. To embrace the slow, sacred work of being made new.

Today we celebrate the hope that doesn’t deny death—but defeats it.

Scripture: Matthew 28v1–10

Prayer
Christ is risen. Christ is rising in me.

Contemplative Thought

Resurrection never returns things to the way they were—it remakes them.

When Jesus rose, He wasn’t simply restored—He was glorified. The scars remained, but they no longer held pain. That’s how resurrection works. It doesn’t erase what happened. It transforms it. You don’t have to pretend you haven’t suffered. You’re invited to walk out of the grave with your story intact, but your spirit renewed. Resurrection is not about perfection. It’s about presence. God is still writing your story, and the empty tomb is the proof.

Practice
Rise early and watch the sunrise—let your body experience the newness of the day.

Put on something bright. Make a beautiful breakfast. Say a prayer of gratitude.

If you’re with others, toast to new beginnings. If you’re alone, let the quiet remind you: You are not.

Speak these words aloud: “Jesus is alive. And I am being made new.”

Reflection Prompt
What’s coming alive in me this season?