I was out surfing alone sometime ago, and another surfer paddled out next to me. It was a beautiful day, but this surfer was full of complaints. He was angry that someone told him the waves were perfect, and they were not. His language was rough and his demeanor ugly. I found myself thinking: Look, you are not at work. You’re healthy. The water is warm, clear, and beautiful. The waves are not perfect, but not bad for Florida. The sun is out, and the pelicans are soaring. I didn't want anything to do with this guy, so I turned and paddled down the beach to get away from him. 

But later, I reflected on the situation, and it dawned on me that I had no idea what this other surfer might have been going through in his own life. Maybe he had just argued with his wife or son. Maybe he was worried about money. And as I reflected, my heart softened, and I prayed for him.

How often do we judge other people without really knowing what they may be dealing with?

I hope I am never as ungrateful and negative as this fellow surfer was on that morning. But I also hope no one judges me based on one chance meeting. We all have our moments, don't we?  

Jesus said, “Do not judge unless you want to be judged. The measure you give is the measure you get.”

May God give us eyes to see beyond the surface – to see his image in each and every person we meet. 

Let us pray: You have called us to be salt and light; to set an example of your love and grace. As we go through life, O God, we sometimes meet people who rub us the wrong way. Sometimes we see things in people that we don't like in ourselves. Whenever possible, Lord, help us to be kind and gracious. We pray today for people who are carrying heavy, heavy burdens at this time. We lift up to you those who are so stressed and worried that gratitude is almost out of reach. We pray that your Spirit would rest on them and give them your peace. May your Spirit rest on us, too – that we might be instruments of your peace. Amen.

In Old English, the word lent means lengthening, and it originally referred to spring. As the days of spring become longer, nature blossoms with renewed life, energy, and growth.  In this sense, perhaps we can think about Lent as a spiritual spring - a time of spiritual growth. 

I like that image… 

I remember when I lived in Atlanta, we had more of a striking distinction between the seasons. Those of you who have lived in colder climates, you know what that’s like - especially as you come out of winter - there is that longing, that yearning…

When I was in seminary, I remember running the neighborhoods in Atlanta. (Of course, there was no surfing, so I did a lot more running back then.) In the wintertime, the trees were completely bare of leaves, the lawns dormant, and the gardens were nothing but dirt. Everything was cold and dead. 

But then, almost without warning, you would begin to see just a hint of green popping up in the trees and from the ground. And then it seemed like just one day, I would wake up, and the flowers would be in full bloom, and the weather near perfect - everything glorious. There was a feeling of life, vibrancy - total renewal.

I think about the natural seasons of the year and how they can mirror the seasons of life - seasons of abundance and growth, seasons of stillness and barrenness, seasons of dying, seasons of rebirth and renewal. And the church calendar, too - if we let it - moves us through these seasons of faith…

And as we head toward Easter, we have begun our spiritual spring. Not the full bloom yet—not the trumpet blast of resurrection—but the quiet work beneath the surface. The slow softening of what has been hard. The patient greening of what looked dormant or lifeless.

Lent reminds us that new life rarely arrives all at once. It begins subtly, almost imperceptibly, with small signs of hope—an openness to prayer, a willingness to let go, a hunger for something deeper than what has sustained us before. Like spring itself, this season asks for attentiveness more than urgency, trust more than control.

So perhaps Lent invites us not to force growth, but to make room for it. To notice where God might already be at work, coaxing life from places we assumed were finished. To trust that beneath the surface of our lives—even in seasons of barrenness or waiting—something is stirring.

Let us pray: God of New Life, the days are lengthening. The ground is warming. Prepare our hearts for your renewing work, and lead us faithfully toward the joy of resurrection. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

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When I was growing up, I don’t remember our church celebrating the season of Lent. But I did go to a Catholic school for two years. And I had friends who gave up chewing gum, chocolate, or Cokes. Our teachers certainly encouraged us to give something up. 

I remember one of my closest friends gave up video games one time, and it totally affected me negatively. He was the only kid on our block who had an Atari console. So because he was fasting, I had to fast too! 

Although I did not understand this as a kid, the idea of fasting during Lent is meant to raise our awareness of our ultimate dependence on God.  As Jesus said, “One does not live by bread alone…”

So to get at that, some people fast for one meal a week, or for an entire day a week. Other folks will fast from certain technologies or habits. I’ve had people say that they fast from reading the news, or fast from cable network news during Lent. Could you imagine maybe giving up your cell phone or computer use for one day a week? 

Other people actually add something – additional giving to the church or charity, or maybe an extra time of daily prayer, or study, or worship. 

Whatever it is, the intent of these practices is that we would draw closer to the source of life. And that we would remember our dependence on Christ. Indeed, one does not live by bread alone…or cell phones, or money, or cable news… We have a deeper need.

What might it mean for us, this Lent, to pay attention to what we rely on most?  What habits, comforts, or distractions quietly shape our days—and what might happen if we loosened our grip on them, even briefly?  And if we dare to trust that we do not live by bread alone, what new life might God be ready to bring forth in us?

As we fast or give, step back or lean in, may these practices prepare the ground of our lives—our hearts, our work, our relationships—for God’s renewing work.

Let us pray: Faithful and sustaining God,  you know our hungers, both spoken and hidden. In this season of Lent, teach us to notice what we cling to and what we truly need. As we fast and as we give, as we let go and as we draw near, prepare the soil of our lives for your grace. Make us mindful of our dependence on you, and open us to the life you long to give. Lead us toward renewal, shape us by your mercy, and ready us for the joy of resurrection, through Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life. Amen.

Today, we begin the holy season of Lent. These 40 days plus 6 Sundays have long been seen as a season of preparation leading us up to the celebration of Easter. It is indeed a time of reflection, a time to listen for God’s voice, and a time to renew our faith by returning to God’s path.  

In her book, “Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons”, Jan Richardson writes about the rich symbolism of Ash Wednesday. 

“All those days you felt like dust, like dirt, as if all you had to do was turn your face toward the wind and be scattered to the four corners or swept away by the smallest breath as insubstantial— did you not know what the Holy One can do with dust?”

She continues:

“ So let us be marked not for sorrow. And let us be marked not for shame. Let us be marked not for false humility or for thinking we are less than we are, but for claiming what God can do within the dust, within the dirt, within the stuff of which the world is made and the stars that blaze in our bones and the galaxies that spiral inside the smudge we bear.”

On this holy day, may you remember what God can do with the dust. May you pause to ask God again to be about his renewing work - even within us.

Let us pray: Creating and loving God, in this holy season, heal us, renew us, and draw us closer to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

At the very beginning of his ministry, Mark tells us, “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near…’”

We don’t use the word kingdom much these days… unless you are into Disney Princess movies - which we were in our family for many years. However, it would have been a very familiar concept for those of Jesus' day… The Greek word is “Basileia,” meaning the personal rule and presence of the king. 

Israel had been longing for this kingdom. It was expected that God would send a Messiah (or King) who would usher in a new, unprecedented age of blessing, peace, and joy. We might think of it as a place and time when there will be no more hungry children in our communities; no more violence; no more destructive addictions; no more broken relationships, no more war.

Jesus says this kingdom, this new age, this realm is at hand…

The word Jesus uses for “at hand,” or “is near,” can mean both “already at hand” and “not yet at hand”. So what did Jesus mean? Well, he doesn’t resolve it for us. But there are instances in the Bible, and in life, where we get the sense that it’s already begun. We get glimpses… 

Several years ago, I attended a dedication ceremony for a Habitat home. I remember looking at the house, thinking about what a labor of love it had been for both the community and the young woman who was to move in (Hours and hours of work). We learned that she would be the first in her family for generations to own her own home. I was right up front. In fact, I was so close that I could see the tears running down her face as they handed her the keys… 

It was a glimpse of this kingdom.

This makes me wonder where you have seen glimpses yourself… While the kingdom is not yet here in its fullness, I pray that you would pay attention to where you see it breaking in, here and now. May these glimpses give you hope. And, may they ever be an invitation to join in.

Let us pray: Holy God, draw us closer. Renew us and heal us. And then grant us eyes to see, and hearts to follow. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen. 

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