Insight for Today
A Daily Devotional by Pastor Chuck Swindoll

Although he never appears on center stage, Barabbas played a major role. Having been convicted and condemned to die, his cell was most likely located in the fortress of Antonia in Jerusalem.

Jesus' first three trials were religious in nature. The accusation was blasphemy, which was an offense that was admissible only in a Jewish court of law. So when Jesus stood before Annas, Caiaphas, and the Sanhedrin (trials one, two, and three), He was accused of blasphemy.

Most Christians have never made a serious study of what transpired immediately before Jesus’ crucifixion. We tend to jump from Gethsemane to Golgotha, omitting many, if not all, the events in between.

I've often said that Peter suffered from “foot-in-mouth” disease. He was given to boasting and overstatement because of his over-inflated opinion of himself. But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt here. Perhaps he was genuinely self-assured.

Jesus didn’t just bow once for a brief prayer in the garden and then go out to face His crucifixion. He prayed, and then He went back to the disciples. He then returned to prayer, and then once again came back to the disciples.

Judging from the ancient olive grove that can be seen today on the Mount of Olives, the garden of Gethsemane must have been a quiet, fragrant, and lovely place. Scholars of the New Testament believe Jesus and His disciples must have arrived there somewhere between midnight and one o’clock in the morning.

On His last night with His disciples, Jesus celebrated the Passover as devout Jews had been doing for centuries. Appropriately, He used that feast of remembrance to turn their attention to His own approaching death.

What did Christ look like to the men, women, and children who met Him? To be completely honest, probably not much like the images we see in stained-glass windows.

The Cave of Adullam was no Holiday Inn. It was a wicked refugee camp . . . a dark vault on the side of a cliff that reached deeply into a hill. Huddled in this clammy cavern were 400 losers—a mob of miserable humanity. They came from all over and wound up all together.

Like potatoes in a pressure cooker, we twenty-first century creatures understand the meaning of stress. A week doesn't pass without a few skirmishes with those "extrinsic agents" that beat upon our fragile frames.

If you haven't read yesterday's reading, I'd like to ask you to do that. It's crucial that you understand that God has given Christians an extra inner reservoir of power that is more than a match for the stuff life throws at us.

No offense, but some of you don't have any business reading this today. Normally, I do not restrict my words to any special group of people. But now I must. This time it is for Christians only.

As you waved goodbye to your friends at church last Sunday, what mental darts were left stuck in the target of your thinking? Can you remember those pointed challenges from the man who stood before you with Bible in hand?

Gifted evangelist Tom Skinner penned a book with a title that won't let me go: If Christ Is the Answer, What Are the Questions? I like that . . . not only because it's creative, but because it strikes a chord in my soul.

As we've been discussing, there are certain times when it's necessary to keep quiet, to relax, to back off. Intensity often leads to futility. Like the little boy who plants the seed and then nervously digs it up every day to see if it is growing.

Kids are nutty. Some friends of ours in Texas have two little girls. The younger child is constantly on the move, rarely winding down by bedtime. So the nightly affair has become something of a familiar routine.

A small bottle containing urine sat upon the desk of Sir William Osler. He was then the eminent professor of medicine at Oxford University. Sitting before him was a classroom full of young, wide-eyed medical students.

Nobody is a whole chain. Each one is a link. But take away one link and the chain is broken. Nobody is a whole team. Each one is a player. But take away one player and the game is forfeited.

We've been talking about the essential skill of listening, particularly as it relates to Sunday sermons. I asked you to come up with some ideas on what can be done by the listener (not the preacher) to keep the sermon interesting.

Most of us were born hearing well, but all of us must learn to listen well. Listening is a skill, an art that is in need of being cultivated. Dr. Ralph Nichols . . . believes that we think four, perhaps five, times faster than we talk.