Lenten Reader | Day 30

March 24th, 2026

While Jesus was teaching in the temple courts, he asked, “Why do the teachers of the law say that the Messiah is the son of David? David himself, speaking by the Holy Spirit, declared:

“‘The Lord said to my Lord:
“Sit at my right hand
until I put your enemies
under your feet.”’

David himself calls him ‘Lord.’ How then can he be his son?”

The large crowd listened to him with delight.

As he taught, Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

Mark 12:35-44

All She Had

In today’s passage, we are given three scenes that invite careful reflection. First, Jesus quotes Psalm 110, pointing beyond common assumptions about the Messiah and revealing how easily religious certainty can miss the deeper truth of who he is. Next, he warns against the scribes, whose outward displays of holiness conceal hearts focused on status and recognition. Finally, Jesus turns our attention to a poor widow whose small offering becomes a powerful witness to genuine devotion. Together, these moments reveal a stark contrast between
outward religion and inward faith.

Jesus is seated with his disciples in the temple courts, watching the steady movement of people bringing their offerings. The temple treasury, we are told, included large metal receptacles into which coins were dropped. The sound alone could announce a person’s generosity. Amid this noise and spectacle, Jesus notices someone easily overlooked — a widow whose gift is quiet and unimpressive by human standards.

We see a similar culture in the Kenyan church, worshipers come forward to place their offerings in a basket on the altar. Some bring money; others bring eggs, corn, beans, or chickens. Occasionally, someone places an empty hand into the basket, participating so as not to bear the shame of having nothing. In every place and culture, giving can become performance—or it can become prayer. Christian life and worship is not about what you know, or how pious you appear, or how much you give, it’s about your heart.

Frances Havergal captured this truth in her hymn Take My Life, and Let It Be Consecrated. Having inherited a collection of fine jewels, she gave them away with joy, later writing that she had never packed a box with such pleasure. Out of that surrender came the words, “Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold.”

Lent calls us to examine not how much we give, but what we hold back. Find this hymn today. Sing it slowly. Let its words become your prayer.

Steve Manchester