Knox Presbyterian Church Podcast

Last Words: "Into your hands I commend my spirit"

There’s an old saying that goes like this:
People die the way they live.
In those final moments—when everything else falls away—what’s left tends to reveal what mattered most all along.
What we trusted.What we held onto.What we believed at the deepest level.
That’s part of what makes last words so powerful.
They’re not polished.They’re not carefully edited.They’re real.
This week, as we reach the final word Jesus speaks from the cross, we hear this:
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
It’s not a cry of despair.It’s not a word of defeat.
It’s a statement of trust.
And when you hold that moment together with everything that came before—the crowds shouting on Palm Sunday, the suffering, the betrayal, the cross—you begin to see something remarkable:
Jesus didn’t just live a life of trust in God.
He died that way too.
And that raises a question for all of us:
When everything is on the line…what are we trusting in?

Last Words: "I am thirsty"

We are all thirsty.
Not just physically—though we know that feeling too.That dry, empty, can’t-think-about-anything-else kind of thirst.
But there’s another kind of thirst we carry every day.
A thirst to be loved.A thirst to matter.A thirst to feel like our lives have meaning and purpose.
And so we spend our lives trying to satisfy it.
We drink from relationships.We drink from success.We drink from approval, comfort, distraction, achievement.
And for a moment, it works.
But then the feeling comes back.
Because deep down, we know—it’s never enough.
This week, as we come once again to the cross, we hear Jesus say something surprising:
“I am thirsty.”
And somehow, in that moment—in his weakness, in his suffering—
Jesus reveals not just his thirst…but ours.
And more importantly…where it can finally be satisfied.

Last Words: "Why have you forsaken me?"

A few weeks before Easter, I saw a sign in the window of a gift shop that made me stop in my tracks.
It said: “We make Easter easy.”
And in a way, that makes perfect sense. Easter is easy. Easter is flowers and bright music and full churches. Easter is joy and celebration and the promise that life wins.
Everybody loves Easter.
But there is nothing easy about the cross.
The cross is not tidy.The cross is not comfortable.The cross forces us to stand in the shadow of suffering and ask questions we would rather avoid.
That’s why, during this season of Lent, we’ve been slowing down and listening carefully to the final words Jesus spoke from the cross.
And today we come to perhaps the most haunting words of all:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
It’s a cry of anguish.A cry of abandonment.A cry that forces us to look honestly at suffering — Jesus’ suffering, and our own.
But if we stay there long enough…if we dare to listen closely enough…
we may discover that even in this darkest moment, there is still hope.

Last Words: "Here is your son"

For the last few weeks, the internet has been captivated by a tiny monkey.
A baby macaque named Punch at a zoo in Japan somehow captured millions of hearts. People watched video after video of him being pushed away by his mother… ignored by the others… wandering around the enclosure looking for somewhere to belong.
And then there was the stuffed animal.
Punch found a little stuffed orangutan and started carrying it everywhere. Whenever things got hard, he ran back to that toy. He clung to it, rested his head on it, dragged it around the zoo like it was the one place he felt safe.
And people all over the world watched and said the same thing:
“Poor little guy.”
But if we’re honest, the reason Punch captured our hearts is because we recognized something familiar.
Because deep down, most of us know that feeling.
The feeling of wanting to belong.The feeling of wanting someone to notice us.The feeling of not wanting to be alone.
Loneliness is one of the most common experiences in modern life… and one of the least talked about.
But today, as we continue listening to the final words Jesus spoke from the cross, we’re going to hear something surprising.
Even in the middle of his suffering…even in the final moments of his life…
Jesus is still building a family.
And it turns out that might be the very thing our lonely hearts have been searching for.

Last Words: "Today you will be with me in paradise"

Most of us don’t think of ourselves as the kind of people who would end up on a cross.
We’re not criminals.We’re not the worst of the worst.We’re not the people everyone else looks at and says, yeah… they deserve that.
So when we hear a story about two criminals hanging next to Jesus, it’s easy to keep our distance.
That’s them.That’s not us.
But if you look a little closer… the difference between those two men isn’t what they’ve done.
It’s how they respond.
One spends his final moments deflecting, blaming, tearing someone else down.The other tells the truth. About himself. About Jesus. About his need.
And suddenly, the story doesn’t feel so distant anymore.
Because maybe the most important question isn’t what kind of person you’ve been…
It’s this:
When you come face to face with Jesus—will you respond with pride…
or with humility?

Last Words: Father, Forgive Them

Nobody wakes up in the morning hoping they’ll need forgiveness. We don’t want to be the one who messed up. We don’t want to be the one who said too much… or didn’t say enough. We don’t want to be the one who hurt someone, failed someone, disappointed someone.
So instead, we do what comes naturally. We hide. We minimize. We explain it away. We tell ourselves, it wasn’t that bad… it wasn’t really my fault… they had it coming.
Because as much as we talk about forgiveness… most of us spend our lives trying not to need it. And yet—deep down—we all know the truth. There are things we can’t undo. There are words we can’t take back. There are moments we wish we could erase but can’t.
This week, we come to the cross and hear one of the most shocking things Jesus ever said: “Father, forgive them…”
Not after everything is fixed. Not after anyone apologizes. Not after the damage is undone. Right in the middle of it.
Because forgiveness may be the one thing nobody wants…but it’s the one thing everybody needs.
Scripture: Luke 23:32-34
Rev. Becca Bruner

Why Did Jesus Have to Die?

There’s something honest about ashes.
Ashes don’t pretend.Ashes don’t perform.Ashes don’t polish themselves up and try to look impressive.
Ashes tell the truth.
They remind us that we are fragile. That we are finite. That no matter how carefully we curate our lives — our reputations, our accomplishments, our spiritual résumés — underneath it all, we are dust.
And yet we resist that truth. We spend so much energy avoiding it. We blame others for what’s broken in the world. We manage our image. We justify our motives. We tell ourselves that the real problem is out there somewhere.
But tonight, the ashes draw the circle smaller.
Tonight is not about someone else’s greed.Not about someone else’s pride.Not about someone else’s fear.
It’s about mine. It’s about yours.
Ash Wednesday invites us to stop deflecting and start confessing. To stop performing and start repenting. To look at the cross and realize it wasn’t just history — it was personal.
And yet — and this is the miracle — the cross is not only the place where our sin is exposed. It is the place where God’s love is revealed.
Tonight we come forward and hear the truth:You are dust.And you are loved.
Scripture: Isaiah 53

Sabbath: Faith In a World Made Whole

Most of us are rehearsing something.
Not literally, of course. You probably didn’t wake up this morning, grab a script, and start practicing lines in the mirror. But whether we realize it or not, every day we’re practicing a story about who we are and what our lives are about.
We rehearse the story that says success comes from working harder.We rehearse the story that says happiness comes from having more.We rehearse the story that says if we can just get everything under control, we’ll finally be okay.
And we practice those stories over and over again until they feel automatic.
But what if there’s another story we’re meant to rehearse?What if the rhythm of Sabbath isn’t just about rest for today… but practice for something bigger?
This week we’re talking about “the big rest” — and how every moment of Sabbath is actually a rehearsal for the story God is inviting us into.
Scripture: Hebrews 4:1-11

Sabbath: Connection for an Isolated World

Last week we talked about how Sabbath restores us spiritually — how it recenters us and reminds us who we are and whose we are. But if we’re honest, there’s another kind of exhaustion many of us carry that sleep doesn’t fix.
You can get a full night’s rest and still feel drained.You can take a day off and still feel empty.You can sit in a room full of people and still feel completely alone.
We live in the most connected era in human history… and yet loneliness is everywhere. We can message anyone instantly, stream anything we want, and order dinner without ever speaking to a person. Life has never been more convenient — but somehow relationships have never felt more complicated.
This week, we’re talking about a different kind of restoration: relational restoration. What if Sabbath isn’t just about stepping away from work… but stepping back toward people? What if rest includes rediscovering the connections we were created for?
Because the truth is, we were never meant to do life alone.

Sabbath: Worship for a Secular World

Restoration is a powerful thing. Watching something old, worn down, and corroded slowly brought back to life reminds us that damage doesn’t have to be the end of the story. With time, care, and intention, what looks beyond repair can be made whole again—sometimes even stronger and more beautiful than before. There’s something deeply hopeful about that process, because we recognize ourselves in it. We know what it’s like to carry the buildup of stress, exhaustion, anxiety, and noise from the week, and to wonder how much more we can hold.
That’s where Sabbath comes in. Sabbath is God’s invitation to stop—to step out of the grind and allow ourselves to be restored. In this series, we’ve been exploring how Sabbath restores us physically and emotionally, and in the weeks ahead we’ll look at how it restores us relationally and eternally. Today, we turn our focus to spiritual restoration: how Sabbath worship recenters us, reshapes us, and reminds us who we are and whose we are. Sabbath isn’t just about rest—it’s about renewal, about being made whole again in the presence of the One who restores.
Psalm 95