196 Newsletter Weekly Review

The week (4) of 01/19/2026

Jan 25, 2026

Good morning friends,

Enclosed below are the links to a few of the pieces I published this week. You can check out my site for the complete list using this link.

«Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, to betray him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper.
He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist.
Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.
He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.”»

John 13:1-7 ESV

Jesus did not come to be served. He came to serve. We say this. We know this. But we sand down the edges of what it meant. We picture gentle hands, a soft voice, a kind gesture. We miss the steel in it. The track he laid ran through every terrain a human soul can know.

His service was not a mood. It was a mission. And the mission had a map that led straight into the heart of pain.

He served when he knew what lay ahead would hurt. The night in the garden, the sweat like blood, the plea for the cup to pass. He knew the spikes, the thorns, the spear. He saw the betrayal in a friend’s eyes, the denial before the rooster crowed. And still, he took the towel and the basin. He served the meal. He broke the bread. He washed the very feet that would soon flee. He served *into* the pain, laying track directly toward it.

He served when he knew it would cause trouble. He healed on the Sabbath. He touched the unclean. He ate with sinners and spoke truth to power. The religious machinery ground its teeth. The political gears began to turn against him. He saw the trap. He heard the accusations. And he stepped right into the controversy. He served the outcast, the broken, the lost, knowing the cost would be a cross. He prioritized the person over his own peace.

He served when he wanted quiet, but the crowd demanded noise. He sought solitude, a desolate place to pray. They found him. The needy, the hungry, the desperate thousands. His human flesh was weary. His spirit needed communion with the Father. Yet he had compassion on them. He served them teaching, he served them bread, he served them healing until the sun was low. He traded his quiet for their clamor.

He served when it was so quiet no one would notice. The silent touch for the bleeding woman in the press of the crowd. The private word to the tax collector in the tree. The early morning prayer alone on the mountainside. These were services with no audience, no applause, no record but the Father’s eye. He served in the unseen places, where the tracks are laid without ceremony.

This was his ministry. Not sermons from a stage, but a life laid down like track. Point A: the need. Point B: the provision. He was the connection. He facilitated the Father’s grace to the parched ground of human desperation. He was the railroad through the impossible pass.

He served to the end. The final act of service was not a teaching or a touch. It was his body broken, his blood poured out. The ultimate facilitation. He carried the weight of our failure on his back to a destination we could never reach: reconciliation.

So when we speak of service, we are not speaking of volunteering. We are speaking of laying our own lives down as track. Will we serve into the pain we see coming? Will we serve into the trouble it will cause? Will we serve when we are weary and the crowd is loud? Will we serve in the quiet, where only God sees?

His ministry was one of serving. It left a permanent line across the landscape of history. Our calling is to be a continuation of that line. To be the next section of track, carrying his life to the next station of need. What are you willing to lay down?

The prayer that comes to find for this one is simple and goes something like this;