Warnings are not usually perceived as an opportunity. Instead, I often see them as an obstacle that is preventing me from experiencing something that I am very interested in pursuing. What if a warning was actually the opening of a path to a better way?

Imagine you were driving up a mountain and one of the roads on the mountain was closed due to falling rocks.

In Uganda, where my family and I have lived for some years, night guards are commonly hired. Institutions, businesses or even private residences hire guards for protection from thieves who otherwise would carry out their business without resistance or fear.

Everyone needs to be alert. And nobody wants a guard who just wants to sleep the night away.

This story seems simple, but it is actually full of nuance and depth. Many of us can identify with the reaction of the disciples: after all, we tend to pride ourselves on our charity (at least in theory, even if not when it comes to our actual spending decisions). Jesus – who was far more compassionate towards the poor than anyone else who ever lived – obviously did not think this resource was wasted. Why was this expensive gift appropriately given?

Jesus had no social media during his thirty-three years of life on earth. No sitting at Moonbuck’s (the other guy’s close competitor), texting his Father back home, hot cuppa’ in hand, waiting for the ping of incoming texts. No checking his Facebook account for comments or friend requests. No one to click like. No chance (even had he wanted one) to become an affirmation junkie like most of us.

But even without social media, Jesus had followers by the thousands.

In the timeline of our tiny lost planet, its most horrifying yet critical pivot point remains a day of slaughter. The Final Sacrificial Lamb. The Perfect One. The Human One. Jesus Christ. From the tributary of Calvary, his blood traced a river to the end of Earth-time. A lively river; with a flawless current intended to usher imperfect humans into the heart of God himself.

But before Calvary, in the hour before Jesus’ arrest, he made a simple request of his closest disciples: remain alert.

At the cusp of spring, our family descended on the deck, the air still cooled by large patches of snow from winter past. When the blaze in our fire bowl beckoned, we sat round, young and older, chatting and reminiscing. Grateful for the warmth.

Maybe it was more than the obvious draw of heat to thaw a chilled body; but perhaps, like my family, it was only that which Peter grasped at first.

As a worship leader, I instinctually change the “I” and “me” pronouns in praise lyrics to “us” and “we.” After all, corporate worship is a group activity. At the same time, our personal (and often private) experience is frequently where our praise can and must begin. How do we include both the personal and the collective in our worship?

Psalm 66 is a breathtaking hymn of praise written in response to answered prayer.