Today's Lenten Devotional - Sunday, February 22, 2026

 

First Sunday in Lent – February 22, 2026

Scripture: Luke 4:1–13

Jesus enters the wilderness “full of the Holy Spirit.”  The wilderness is not evidence of God’s absence but often the place of God’s shaping.

The Tempter’s voice is subtle: Turn stones to bread.  Claim power.  Secure safety.  Each temptation offers a shortcut around trust.  Each suggests that identity must be proven rather than received.

We know these temptations well.  Feed your hunger at any cost.  Protect yourself above all else.  Accumulate influence so that you will not feel vulnerable.

Yet Jesus resists—not with bravado, but with Scripture.  He remembers who he is.

Lent invites us into wilderness spaces—not to punish us, but to clarify us.  What voices compete for your allegiance?  What shortcuts look appealing?  What fears drive your decisions?

The Church, too, faces temptation: to chase relevance through power, to secure safety through exclusion, to measure worth through numbers or influence.  But our calling is different.  We are ambassadors of reconciliation, not architects of dominance.

In the wilderness we discover whether we trust God enough to live differently.

Temptation is rarely about dramatic evil.  It is usually about distorted good.  Bread is good.  Safety is good.  Authority can be good.  But when they replace trust in God, they become idols.

The wilderness strips us down so we can remember who we are: beloved children of God.

Reflection Questions:

1. What temptation most persistently competes for my trust?
2. Where do I seek security apart from God?
3. How might wilderness be shaping rather than punishing me?

Today's Worship Service - First Sunday in Lent - Sunday, February 22, 2026

 

Worship Service for February 22, 2026

Prelude

Announcements:  

Call to Worship

L:      The Lord is my light and my salvation.

P:      We will not be afraid.

L:      The Lord is the stronghold of my life.

P:      We will not be afraid.

L:      Even when our adversaries and foes seek to destroy us,

P:      We will not be afraid.

L:      Come to the house of the Lord and behold God’s beauty.

P:      We will sing to the Lord and trust God!

L:      We will see the goodness of the Lord.

P:      We will be strong and place our trust in God!

 

Opening Hymn –  Christ of the Upward Way         Hymn #344  Blue

Prayer of Confession

We confess to You, O God, that we are often afraid.  The criticism of others, the uncertainty of our own time, the hardships that veil our eyes from Your loving purpose, our own failure, and the evils of terror and war threaten to undo us.  Too often we despair and act as if You have abandoned us.  We give in to fear and retreat into self-preservation at the expense of others.  Forgive us, God.  By the power of Your Holy Spirit, renew our faith and courage so that we may find in our Lord Jesus Christ Your sure promise of love and salvation.  Lead us along Your way and help us to face each challenge in our lives.  Give us strong hearts and clear vision to resist evil and trust in You until we are finally at the table with You in our eternal home in heaven.  (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      God does not give us up to the temptations and ways of the world, but shelters us with love, with hope, with grace.

P:      We are forgiven people.  Our songs of joy are lifted to the One who forgives. 

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

Jesus Christ, light of the world, we dare to bring our whole selves before you this morning, asking that you shine your purifying light on us once again.  Illumine the dark corners no one else sees – the shadows of doubt, the pockets of loneliness, the specters of fear, the gloom of discouragement.  Lift our face to behold you in the full radiance of your light, that something of your perfect love, truth, and peace may radiate into our lives and awaken us to the full truth of who we are, by your grace and in your mercy.

         Gracious Lord, shine your healing light into every place of darkness and despair, we especially think of those living under threat of violence – like those in the Ukraine, and in so many other places in the world, too, Lord.

         We also lift up to you our friends and loved ones…

 

         As we open our hearts, souls, and minds to you in this holy hour, hear the deepest movement of our inner selves – listen to our silent prayers this day….

 

         Help us Lord, hear your challenge anew for us to be the light of the world, and to let our light so shine that it brings thankful praise to You, the source of all light in heaven and earth as we pray together saying;

 

...Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  Beneath The Cross of Jesus                   Hymn #92/320

Scripture Reading(s): 

First Scripture Reading – Psalm 32

Second Scripture Reading – Matthew 4:1-11

Sermon –  

Lenten Wilderness
(based on Matthew 4:1–11)

 

There are moments in our lives when everything seems clear, especially when it comes to our life of faith.  The heavens open.  A voice speaks.  The sign or call to us feels unmistakable.  And then, almost without warning, the ground shifts beneath our feet.

That is how the fourth chapter of Matthew begins.  In Gospel of Matthew, Jesus has just come up out of the waters of baptism.  The Spirit descends like a dove.  A voice from heaven declares him beloved.  It is inspiring and affirming to all those who were paying attention and heard it.

And then Matthew writes: “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”  He was led by the Spirit.  He wasn’t tricked, he wasn’t abandoned, and he wasn’t lost.  He was led.  Which is important for us to grasp, because it means that wilderness is not outside of God’s purpose.  Being in the wilderness is not the opposite of being called.  Sometimes being in the wilderness is the first step in following God’s purpose for us.

Before Jesus ever preaches a sermon, before he calls a single disciple, before he heals any part of another person’s body, he is driven, led by the Spirit of God, into the desert, into the wilderness.

For forty days and forty nights he fasts.  Matthew tells us pretty directly: “He was famished.”  I guess so, I’m usually famished by 3 in the afternoon if I’ve forgotten to eat or been to busy to eat that day, let alone forty days going without food.  And the tempter arrives at the moment of Jesus’s weakness.  

Temptation rarely comes when we are strong, well-fed, with all of our wits about us.  It comes when we’re tired.  It comes when we’re depleted.  It comes when we are lonely and delirious enough to listen.  “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”  Notice the Tempter’s strategy.  The Tempter does not begin with something obviously wrong, morally bad or evil.  The Tempter begins with something practical.  Sensible.  Reasonable even.  Jesus hasn’t eaten for forty days.  He’s famished.

You have the power to do it, the Tempter is saying.  Why not use it?  I mean, seriously, what is sinful about bread?  Later, in this very same Gospel, Jesus will multiply loaves of bread for thousands of people, who were hungry.  Why not do it for himself.  Hunger matters to God.  Bodies matter to God.  The problem is that the issue isn’t about bread.  The issue is about trust.  And Jesus knows it.  Jesus answers by quoting Deuteronomy: “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

In the wilderness when the Israelites were wandering, manna fell one day at a time.  Enough for the day.  Not for tomorrow.  Dependence on God was built into their life of faith.  The temptation here is not simply about food; it is about self-sufficiency.  Turn stones into bread.  Turn your gift into leverage.  Turn your calling into control.  And the world tells us this all the time; we are the masters of our own destiny.  No!  What must come first?  Our obedience to God.

How often are we tempted to solve our anxieties with power rather than prayer?  To secure ourselves by our own ingenuity rather than by daily trust in God?  We live in a culture that worships autonomy.  We prize independence.  We celebrate those who “pull themselves up.”  And yet the prayer Jesus will teach us is not “Give me this month my strategic plan.”  It is “Give us this day our daily bread.”

The wilderness asks: Will you trust God enough to be hungry?  When we are weak and feel depleted, that’s a hard ask.  When we feel that we are at the very end of hope, that’s a hard ask.  But God asks us that anyway.

Now, the second temptation is more dramatic.  When that doesn’t work, the tempter takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem.  Imagine the scene.  The holy city.  The sacred center.  The crowds below.  “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down.”  And this time, the tempter quotes Scripture.  That detail alone should make us think very carefully.  The Bible can be misused and it is all the time, but those who want to have control over you.  It can be plucked from context.  It can be employed to justify ego, nationalism, cruelty, or fear.  The enemy of our souls does not always argue against Scripture; sometimes he argues using it.

Jesus responds, again from Deuteronomy: “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”  This is the temptation of spectacle.  Leap.  Let angels catch you.  Let the crowd gasp.  Prove your identity to the world.

Here our faith becomes performance.  Our trust becomes theater.  We know something about this temptation.  Churches are not immune. Pastors are not immune.  Christians are not immune.  There is pressure for us to be impressive.  To go viral.  To be noticed.  To build platforms instead of communities.  To equate visibility with faithfulness.

But Jesus refuses to confuse the spectacular with the sacred.  He will reveal glory, yes — but not by manipulation.  Not by forcing God’s hand. Not by staging miracles to secure an applause.  In a world addicted to attention, restraint is revolutionary.

The wilderness asks: Will you trust God enough to go unnoticed, for now to be unseen?  Will you trust God to lead you to the right ways of being faithful, of being Christ’s hands and feet on this earth?

The final temptation is breathtaking in its scope.  All the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.  Political authority.  Economic influence. Cultural dominance.  “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”  Here the temptation is totally open in its nakedness: power without suffering.  Authority without a cross.  It is a shortcut to the kingdom Jesus so desperately wants for us.

And it requires only one thing: redirected worship.  Not atheism.  Not the denial of God.  Just a subtle shift of allegiance.  Jesus responds with clarity: “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”  The struggle is not merely ethical; it is liturgical.  What we worship shapes what we become.  If we worship power, we will sacrifice the vulnerable.  If we worship security, we will demonize the stranger.  If we worship success, we will compromise integrity.

Jesus refuses to build the kingdom of God with the tools of domination.  He will not grasp that power.  He will not be coerced.
He will not bow.  Instead, he will walk toward Jerusalem, toward rejection, toward crucifixion — trusting that resurrection, not control, is God’s final word.

And so the wilderness asks: Will you trust God enough to relinquish your power and allow God to lead you?

The story ends quietly: “Then the tempter left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.”  Angels did not and do not prevent the testing.  They simply arrive afterward.  There are seasons when we, too, find ourselves in wilderness — congregations navigating uncertainty, communities fractured by injustice, families walking through grief, bodies bearing diagnoses we did not expect.

We may wonder whether the silence means abandonment.  But this story and text in Matthew insists otherwise.  The same Spirit who leads into the wilderness remains present there.  And the same God who names us beloved does not rescind that word when the desert winds blow.

Temptation is real.
Hunger is real.
Fear is real.

But so is God’s grace.

In the end, the wilderness does not define Jesus.  It clarifies him.  He emerges not weakened but resolved.  Not confused but grounded.  Friends, Lent always begins in the wilderness.  Faith always passes through desert places.  But the story of Jesus Christ reminds us that wilderness is not where God abandons us; it is often where God forms us.

Thanks be to God.  AMEN.

Offertory –

Doxology –

Prayer of Dedication –

We dedicate, O God, our lives and all that we have to the work of life, of love, of peace.  Receive our gifts this day and lead us, not into temptation, but in wisdom and courage.  AMEN.

Closing Hymn – I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord         Hymn #441/405

Benediction –

         Friends, go out into the world with confidence and strength in the Lord.  May you always be at peace with Him.  AMEN.

Postlude

Today’s Devotional - Saturday, February 21, 2026

 Saturday – February 21

Scripture: Luke 5:27–32

“I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners.  He sits at tables others avoid.  The scandal is not merely that he forgives; it is that he shares meals.

Repentance is relational.  It is not shame-driven isolation but restored belonging.

The Pharisees were not wrong to care about holiness.  They were wrong to confuse holiness with separation.  Jesus reveals a holiness that moves toward brokenness, not away from it.

The Church must wrestle with this question in every generation: Are we more concerned with guarding our boundaries or widening the circle?

To repent is to change direction.  It is also to change posture.

Whose table have we avoided?  Whose story have we dismissed?  Whose presence unsettles us?

In Christ, God moves toward us in our fractured state.  As recipients of that grace, we are sent outward—not as judges, but as fellow travelers.

Lent invites us to become the kind of people who sit where Christ sits; alongside the lonely, the unwelcomed, the disfigured, the widow, the outcast, the broken, the disenfranchised, the foreigner, the immigrant, the stranger in our midst, the orphan, and those with whom we disagree.

Reflection Questions:

1. Who in my life feels “outside” the circle?
2. Where might God be asking me to widen my welcome?
3. How has Christ met me at a table of grace?

Lenten Devotional - Friday, February 20, 2026

 Friday – February 20

Scripture: Isaiah 58:6–12

“Is not this the fast that I choose?”

Isaiah refuses to let fasting become self-centered spirituality.  True fasting loosens the bonds of injustice, shares bread with the hungry, shelters the unhoused, and refuses to hide from human suffering.

Lent is not spiritual self-improvement.  It is spiritual reorientation toward neighbor and world.

If we fast from chocolate but feast on resentment, we have missed the point.  If we give up luxury but ignore injustice, we have misunderstood the invitation.

The prophet’s vision is bold: when justice flows, light breaks forth like the dawn.

This is the Church I dream of—a people who do not merely welcome the marginalized but champion their causes; who stand firm in acknowledging the dignity of every human being; who say no to systems that reduce people to commodities.

The fast God chooses restores community.  It repairs breaches.  It rebuilds ruined cities.

Perhaps this Lent is less about subtraction and more about addition—adding courage, adding compassion, adding advocacy.

When we align our lives with God’s justice, we become, in Isaiah’s words, “repairers of the breach.”

Reflection Questions:

1. Who benefits from my comfort?  Who is harmed by my indifference?
2. What injustice might God be asking me to confront this season?
3. How can my Lenten practice bless someone beyond myself?

Lenten Devotional - Thursday, February 19, 2026

 

Thursday – February 19

Scripture: Joel 2:12–13; Matthew 6:1–6

“Return to me with all your heart.”

Return implies we have wandered.  And wander we do—not always dramatically, but subtly.  We drift toward self-protection, distraction, resentment, and spiritual numbness.

The prophet Joel calls not for performance but for authenticity: “Rend your hearts and not your garments.”  Jesus echoes this in the Sermon on the Mount.  Pray, fast, and give—not to be seen, but to be transformed.

Moderate religion is comfortable.  Lent is not about comfort.  It is about realignment, a re-ordering of our lives.

To return to God is not to grovel, but simply to come home.  It is to remember who we are: image-bearers called to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly.  It is to remember that faith is not a badge we wear but a life we live.

Perhaps the question for today is simple: What has quietly replaced God at the center of my life? Achievement? Anxiety? Outrage? Security?

Returning is less about distance traveled and more about direction faced.

God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  We do not return to a harsh taskmaster, but to a reconciling Father, a welcoming Christ, a Spirit who reshapes our longing into holy longing.

Reflection Questions:

1. What subtle drift in my life needs correction?
2. Where have I confused religious appearance with spiritual depth?
3. What would wholehearted return look like for me right now?

Lenten Devotional - from Ash Wednesday through Palm Sunday

Here is the full Lenten Devotional through Palm Sunday.  I'll add Passion week later.  I went through my sermons from mostly this past year and creating a Lenten devotional from the main message from each week.

I'll probably post each day separately, as well.  But this is the whole thing if you want to copy it off.

Dreaming Toward Resurrection

A Lenten Journey of Reconciliation

Lent 2026 Devotional

Rev. Walt Pietschmann

Ash Wednesday – February 18, 2026
Easter Sunday – April 5, 2026

---

Table of Contents

Ash Wednesday, February 18 – Create in Me a Clean Heart
Thursday, February 19 – Return with All Your Heart
Friday, February 20 – The Fast God Chooses
Saturday, February 21 – At the Table with Sinners

First Sunday in Lent, February 22 – Wilderness and Identity
Monday, February 23 – What the Lord Requires
Tuesday, February 24 – Salt and Light
Wednesday, February 25 – Our Refuge and Strength
Thursday, February 26 – Ministry of Reconciliation
Friday, February 27 – A New Thing
Saturday, February 28 – The Father Who Runs

Second Sunday in Lent, March 1 – Transfigured Vision
Monday, March 2 – Faith Like Abram
Tuesday, March 3 – Set Your Mind
Wednesday, March 4 – The Fig Tree and Patience
Thursday, March 5 – Prayer That Listens
Friday, March 6 – Courageous Welcome
Saturday, March 7 – Holy Longing

Third Sunday in Lent, March 8 – Bearing Fruit
Monday, March 9 – Living Water
Tuesday, March 10 – Forgiving Seventy Times
Wednesday, March 11 – The Greatest Commandment
Thursday, March 12 – The Good Samaritan
Friday, March 13 – Treasure in Heaven
Saturday, March 14 – Humble Service

Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 15 – Joy of Homecoming
Monday, March 16 – New Creation Living
Tuesday, March 17 – Light in the Darkness
Wednesday, March 18 – Shepherding Love
Thursday, March 19 – Standing in the Gap
Friday, March 20 – Costly Grace
Saturday, March 21 – Dry Bones and Hope

Fifth Sunday in Lent, March 22 – Losing and Finding Life
Monday, March 23 – Anointing Love
Tuesday, March 24 – Servant Leadership
Wednesday, March 25 – When the Grain Falls
Thursday, March 26 – Covenant Written on the Heart
Friday, March 27 – The Man of Sorrows
Saturday, March 28 – Waiting in the Silence

Palm Sunday, March 29 – The Humble King
Monday of Holy Week, March 30 – Clearing the Temple
Tuesday of Holy Week, March 31 – Watching and Waiting
Wednesday of Holy Week, April 1 – The Cost of Betrayal
Maundy Thursday, April 2 – Love One Another
Good Friday, April 3 – It Is Finished
Holy Saturday, April 4 – The Great Silence
Easter Sunday, Apirl 5 – Resurrection Morning

---

Ash Wednesday – February 18, 2026

Scripture: Psalm 51:10–12; Genesis 1:26–28; 2 Corinthians 5:19–20

“Create in me a clean heart, O God.”

Lent begins not with triumph, but with truth.  Ashes mark our foreheads in the shape of a cross—dust touched by grace.  We are reminded that we are fragile, finite, and yet made in the image of God.  The same God who formed humanity from the dust also breathes reconciliation into our fractured lives.

The world teaches us to deny weakness.  Lent invites us to name it.  The world teaches us to accumulate and defend.  Lent invites us to surrender and trust.  The world teaches us to divide. Lent reminds us that in Christ, God is reconciling the world—not counting our trespasses or the debt we owe against us, but entrusting to us the ministry of reconciliation.

We begin in honesty.  Where has joy been found since Christmas?  Where has sorrow lingered? Where have relationships frayed?  Where have we contributed to injustice, indifference, or silence?

Ashes are not a symbol of despair.  They are a sign of beginning again.

This is not a private journey only.  We repent not only of personal sin, but of social brokenness—of prejudices ignored, injustices tolerated, creation despoiled.  We step into Lent as ambassadors of Christ, daring to believe reconciliation is possible in us and through us.

The journey to resurrection begins with courage: the courage to tell the truth about ourselves and to trust that God’s steadfast love is greater still.

Reflection Questions:

1. What in my life feels disordered or out of alignment with God’s reconciling love?
2. Where is reconciliation needed—in my relationships, my church, my community?
3. What might it mean for me to live as an “ambassador for Christ” this Lent?

---

Thursday – February 19

Scripture: Joel 2:12–13; Matthew 6:1–6

“Return to me with all your heart.”

Return implies we have wandered.  And wander we do—not always dramatically, but subtly.  We drift toward self-protection, distraction, resentment, and spiritual numbness.

The prophet Joel calls not for performance but for authenticity: “Rend your hearts and not your garments.”  Jesus echoes this in the Sermon on the Mount.  Pray, fast, and give—not to be seen, but to be transformed.

Moderate religion is comfortable.  Lent is not about comfort.  It is about realignment, a re-ordering of our lives.

To return to God is not to grovel, but simply to come home.  It is to remember who we are: image-bearers called to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly.  It is to remember that faith is not a badge we wear but a life we live.

Perhaps the question for today is simple: What has quietly replaced God at the center of my life? Achievement? Anxiety? Outrage? Security?

Returning is less about distance traveled and more about direction faced.

God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  We do not return to a harsh taskmaster, but to a reconciling Father, a welcoming Christ, a Spirit who reshapes our longing into holy longing.

Reflection Questions:

1. What subtle drift in my life needs correction?
2. Where have I confused religious appearance with spiritual depth?
3. What would wholehearted return look like for me right now?

---

Friday – February 20

Scripture: Isaiah 58:6–12

“Is not this the fast that I choose?”

Isaiah refuses to let fasting become self-centered spirituality.  True fasting loosens the bonds of injustice, shares bread with the hungry, shelters the unhoused, and refuses to hide from human suffering.

Lent is not spiritual self-improvement.  It is spiritual reorientation toward neighbor and world.

If we fast from chocolate but feast on resentment, we have missed the point.  If we give up luxury but ignore injustice, we have misunderstood the invitation.

The prophet’s vision is bold: when justice flows, light breaks forth like the dawn.

This is the Church I dream of—a people who do not merely welcome the marginalized but champion their causes; who stand firm in acknowledging the dignity of every human being; who say no to systems that reduce people to commodities.

The fast God chooses restores community.  It repairs breaches.  It rebuilds ruined cities.

Perhaps this Lent is less about subtraction and more about addition—adding courage, adding compassion, adding advocacy.

When we align our lives with God’s justice, we become, in Isaiah’s words, “repairers of the breach.”

Reflection Questions:

1. Who benefits from my comfort?  Who is harmed by my indifference?
2. What injustice might God be asking me to confront this season?
3. How can my Lenten practice bless someone beyond myself?

---

Saturday – February 21

Scripture: Luke 5:27–32

“I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners.  He sits at tables others avoid.  The scandal is not merely that he forgives; it is that he shares meals.

Repentance is relational.  It is not shame-driven isolation but restored belonging.

The Pharisees were not wrong to care about holiness.  They were wrong to confuse holiness with separation.  Jesus reveals a holiness that moves toward brokenness, not away from it.

The Church must wrestle with this question in every generation: Are we more concerned with guarding our boundaries or widening the circle?

To repent is to change direction.  It is also to change posture.

Whose table have we avoided?  Whose story have we dismissed?  Whose presence unsettles us?

In Christ, God moves toward us in our fractured state.  As recipients of that grace, we are sent outward—not as judges, but as fellow travelers.

Lent invites us to become the kind of people who sit where Christ sits; alongside the lonely, the unwelcomed, the disfigured, the widow, the outcast, the broken, the disenfranchised, the foreigner, the immigrant, the stranger in our midst, the orphan, and those with whom we disagree.

Reflection Questions:

1. Who in my life feels “outside” the circle?
2. Where might God be asking me to widen my welcome?
3. How has Christ met me at a table of grace?

---

First Sunday in Lent – February 22, 2026

Scripture: Luke 4:1–13

Jesus enters the wilderness “full of the Holy Spirit.”  The wilderness is not evidence of God’s absence but often the place of God’s shaping.

The Tempter’s voice is subtle: Turn stones to bread.  Claim power.  Secure safety.  Each temptation offers a shortcut around trust.  Each suggests that identity must be proven rather than received.

We know these temptations well.  Feed your hunger at any cost.  Protect yourself above all else.  Accumulate influence so that you will not feel vulnerable.

Yet Jesus resists—not with bravado, but with Scripture.  He remembers who he is.

Lent invites us into wilderness spaces—not to punish us, but to clarify us.  What voices compete for your allegiance?  What shortcuts look appealing?  What fears drive your decisions?

The Church, too, faces temptation: to chase relevance through power, to secure safety through exclusion, to measure worth through numbers or influence.  But our calling is different.  We are ambassadors of reconciliation, not architects of dominance.

In the wilderness we discover whether we trust God enough to live differently.

Temptation is rarely about dramatic evil.  It is usually about distorted good.  Bread is good.  Safety is good.  Authority can be good.  But when they replace trust in God, they become idols.

The wilderness strips us down so we can remember who we are: beloved children of God.

Reflection Questions:

1. What temptation most persistently competes for my trust?
2. Where do I seek security apart from God?
3. How might wilderness be shaping rather than punishing me?

---

Monday – February 23

Scripture: Micah 6:6–8

“What does the Lord require of you?”

Micah cuts through religious excess.  God is not impressed by extravagance if justice is absent.  No performance compensates for indifference.

To do justice.
To love kindness.
To walk humbly.

Justice is not merely charity; it is the repair of systems that harm.  Kindness is not weakness; it is covenant loyalty shaped by compassion.  Humility is not self-deprecation; it is living grounded in God rather than ego.

Moderately progressive Christians often care deeply about justice—and rightly so.  But Lent presses us deeper: Do we love justice or do we love being right?  Do we walk humbly even with those who disagree with us?

Humility does not silence conviction.  It refines it.

A church shaped by Micah does not confuse political noise with prophetic clarity.  It listens before speaking.  It serves before criticizing.  It examines itself before condemning others.

To walk humbly is to remember that we, too, are recipients of mercy.

The cross will later show us what justice and mercy look like intertwined.  For now, Lent asks us to align our daily steps with this ancient calling.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where is God asking me to act more justly?
2. Do I love kindness as much as I love being correct?
3. What would deeper humility look like in my daily life?

---

Tuesday – February 24

Scripture: Matthew 5:13–16

“You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.”

Jesus does not say “try to become.”  He says “you are.”

Salt preserves and flavors.  Light reveals and guides.  Both operate quietly, faithfully, persistently.

Salt loses its saltiness when it blends in so completely that it makes no difference.  Light hides when fear overcomes courage.

The Church does not exist to dominate culture, nor to disappear into it.  We are called to presence—faithful presence that embodies reconciliation, generosity, courage, and mercy.

What if being salt means preserving human dignity wherever it is threatened?  What if being light means exposing injustice without dehumanizing those who perpetuate it?

Light does not shout.  It shines.

Sometimes our witness is as simple as refusing cynicism.  Sometimes it is as bold as standing against prejudice.  Often it is lived in the small, unseen decisions to forgive, to include, to speak truth gently but firmly.

The world does not need louder Christians.  It needs luminous ones.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where might my faith have grown dim?
2. How can I preserve dignity in a polarized world?
3. What small act of light can I embody today?

---

Wednesday – February 25

Scripture: Psalm 46:1–3

“God is our refuge and strength.”

The earth changes.  Mountains shake.  Waters roar.

The psalmist does not deny instability.  Faith is not denial.  It is anchoring.

We live in a time of shifting institutions, anxious headlines, and deep cultural fragmentation. Fear is profitable in such a climate.  But Lent reminds us that fear is not our foundation.

If God is refuge, then we are free to act courageously.  If God is strength, we need not grasp for false power.

A church rooted in refuge becomes a refuge.  It offers stability not by resisting change, but by grounding change in love.

We are not called to control the shaking.  We are called to trust through it.

Silence becomes essential here.  In quiet, we rediscover steadiness.  In prayer, we hear again the voice of the One who holds history.

The psalm ends with an invitation: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Stillness is resistance against panic.

Reflection Questions:

1. What fears most disrupt my peace?
2. How might stillness strengthen my courage?
3. Where can I become a refuge for someone else?

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Thursday – February 26

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 5:17–21

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation.”

Reconciliation is not sentimental.  It is costly.  It requires transformation.

Paul reminds us that God has entrusted this ministry to us.  Not to the powerful alone.  Not to clergy only.  To all of us.

We are agents of a new creation.

This begins personally—allowing Christ to reshape our grudges, our assumptions, our defensiveness.  But it does not end there.  It extends outward—into families, churches, neighborhoods, civic life.

Reconciliation does not erase truth.  It insists on it.  But truth is spoken for healing, not humiliation.

Imagine a church known less for what it opposes and more for how it reconciles.

New creation is already unfolding.  Lent helps us participate rather than resist.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where do I resist becoming new?
2. Who needs to hear reconciliation from me?
3. How can I embody healing without avoiding truth?

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Friday – February 27

Scripture: Isaiah 43:18–19

“I am about to do a new thing.”

We often cling to the familiar—even when it no longer bears fruit.  God speaks through Isaiah to people nostalgic for the past and fearful of the future.

Do not remember the former things. This does not mean dishonor tradition.  It means do not idolize it.  Dream of a church and church members who honor the past while embracing the future.  Because the Spirit Holy who moved in former generations is not finished yet.

Sometimes churches fear change because change feels like loss.  But sometimes change is resurrection in disguise.  Can you perceive it?

Newness often begins small—a conversation, a courageous decision, a widening of welcome, a step toward justice.  God’s work is not nostalgia. It is hope.

Reflection Questions:

1. What “former thing” might I be clinging to?
2. Where do I sense God’s newness emerging?
3. How can I respond with courage rather than fear?

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Saturday – February 28

Scripture: Luke 15:11–24

“While he was still far off…”

The father sees before the son arrives.  Grace moves first.

The younger son rehearses repentance as transaction.  The father interrupts with embrace.

Repentance matters.  But grace precedes perfection.

Lent can become heavy if we forget this. We examine ourselves not to earn love, but because we are loved.  Notice too: the elder brother stands outside.  Resentment can distance us just as much as rebellion.

Which brother are you most like this season?

The Church must reflect the father more than either son—watchful, hopeful, ready to run toward those returning, and patient with those struggling to rejoice.

Resurrection joy begins in this posture.

Reflection Questions:

1. Do I struggle more with rebellion or resentment?
2. Can I trust grace before earning it?
3. How might I reflect the father’s welcome this week?

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Second Sunday in Lent – March 1

Scripture: Luke 9:28–36

The disciples glimpse Christ transfigured—radiant, luminous, unmistakably divine.  And yet the voice from heaven does not say “Build here.” It says, “Listen to him.”

Spiritual mountaintops are gifts.  But they are not permanent dwellings.  We are given vision in order to sustain us for valleys.

A moderately progressive faith values insight, understanding, thoughtful theology.  But Lent reminds us that illumination must lead to obedience.  Listen to Christ.

Listen when he speaks of loving enemies.
Listen when he speaks of taking up the cross.
Listen when he speaks of mercy triumphing over judgment.

Transfiguration is not escape from suffering.  It is preparation for it.

Reflection Questions

1. When have I experienced spiritual clarity?
2. How does listening differ from merely agreeing?
3. What valley might require courage right now?

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Monday – March 2

Scripture: Genesis 12:1–4

“The Lord said to Abram, ‘Go…’”

Abram is called into uncertainty.  No map.  No guarantee of outcome.  Only promise.

Faith, at its core, is movement rooted in trust.  Abram leaves familiarity not because the future is clear, but because God’s voice is compelling.

Christians are to value discernment, thoughtfulness, and careful planning.  These are gifts.  But sometimes discernment becomes delay.  We wait for perfect clarity before acting.

Abram reminds us that obedience often precedes understanding.

Lent is a season of holy movement.  It may not require geographic relocation, but it does invite interior relocation—shifting allegiance from comfort to courage, from predictability to promise.

What is God asking you to leave?  A habit?  A resentment?  A narrow imagination of what church can be?

To go where God sends is not reckless.  It is relational.  Abram’s courage rests not in self-confidence but in covenant with God.

The Church, too, must sometimes step forward without full assurance of success.  We move toward justice before knowing how it will unfold.  We widen welcome before calculating risk.  We speak reconciliation before consensus forms.

Faith walks.

And along the way, God shapes a people.

Reflection Questions

1. Where might God be inviting movement in my life?
2. What comfort holds me back?
3. Do I trust promise enough to step forward?

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Tuesday – March 3

Scripture: Colossians 3:12–17

“Clothe yourselves with compassion…”

Paul describes discipleship as dressing each morning.  Compassion.  Kindness.  Humility.  Patience.

These are not abstract virtues.  They are daily garments.

In polarized times, we often clothe ourselves in suspicion or defensiveness.  We armor up rather than open up.  But Paul calls the church to something radically different: relational maturity shaped by Christ’s peace.

Let the peace of Christ rule.  Not your anger.  Not your need to win.  Not your anxiety.

Peace ruling does not mean silence in the face of injustice.  It means that even when confronting wrong, we do so from steadiness rather than hostility.

Compassion listens before labeling.  Kindness refuses cruelty disguised as conviction.  Humility remembers that we, too, are learners.

The Church’s witness falters not because it speaks too much about justice, but because it sometimes forgets to embody gentleness alongside it.

Lent is wardrobe inspection.  What have I been wearing lately?

Gratitude becomes the thread holding everything together.

Reflection Questions

1. Which virtue needs strengthening in me?
2. Does Christ’s peace guide my responses?
3. How can I consciously “put on” compassion today?

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Wednesday – March 4

Scripture: Luke 13:6–9

The fig tree is barren.  The owner is ready to cut it down.  The gardener asks for time.

God is patient.

In a culture of immediate results, fruitfulness feels urgent.  Churches measure vitality.  Individuals measure productivity.  But growth cannot be forced.

The gardener tends, fertilizes, waits.

Lent is patient cultivation.  We do not measure spiritual growth in dramatic leaps but in slow ripening.

Where do you feel discouraged about lack of fruit?  In prayer?  In justice efforts?  In reconciliation attempts?

God’s patience with us should shape our patience with others.

Perhaps the tree is not dead.  Perhaps it simply needs tending.

The Church must resist the temptation to abandon what grows slowly.  Real transformation—personal and communal—takes seasons.  Give it time.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I need patience with myself?
2. Who in my life needs patient tending?
3. How can I cultivate growth rather than demand it?

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Thursday – March 5

Scripture: Matthew 7:7–12

Ask.  Seek.  Knock.

Prayer is active engagement with God, not passive resignation.  To ask is to admit need.  To seek is to pursue alignment.  To knock is to expect response.

Jesus assures us that God is not reluctant.

Yet prayer reshapes the one praying.  We begin asking for outcomes; we end discovering transformation.

In dreaming the church to be more aligned with Christ, prayer is not peripheral.  It is central.  We do not simply strategize; we discern.

The Golden Rule follows—do to others as you would have them do to you.  Prayer and ethics intertwine.

The more we pray, the more we recognize shared humanity.

Reflection Questions

1. What am I truly asking of God?
2. How does prayer reshape my desires?
3. Where can I embody the Golden Rule today?

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Friday – March 6

Scripture: Romans 12:9–21

“Overcome evil with good.”

This is not naïveté. It is courageous discipleship.

Paul names real hostility—persecution, enemies, wrongdoing.  Yet retaliation is not the answer.

To overcome evil with good is to refuse to let darkness dictate behavior.

This requires deep grounding in Christ.  Otherwise, we mimic what we oppose.

Injustice must be confronted.  But the spirit in which we confront it matters.

Bless those who persecute you.

That may be the hardest Lenten discipline of all.

Reflection Questions

1. Where am I tempted toward retaliation?
2. What would overcoming with good look like?
3. How does love resist becoming hatred?

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Saturday – March 7

Scripture: Psalm 42

“Why are you cast down, O my soul?”

Lent allows space for interior dialogue.  The psalmist speaks to his own soul—naming sorrow, yet summoning hope.

Faith does not eliminate sadness.  It refuses to let sadness have the final word.

We live in complex times.  Climate anxiety, political tension, institutional fatigue—these weigh on the soul.

The psalmist remembers worship, remembers community, remembers God.

Hope sometimes begins with memory.

Reflection Questions

1. What weighs heavily on my soul?
2. Where have I experienced God’s faithfulness before?
3. Can I speak hope gently to myself?

Third Sunday in Lent – March 8

Scripture: Luke 13:1–9

When tragedy strikes, people instinctively ask why. Jesus refuses simplistic explanations.  Those who suffered were not worse sinners.  Instead of assigning blame, he calls for repentance—not as guilt, but as awakening.

Repentance is not about speculating on others’ failures.  It is about examining our own lives in light of God’s mercy.

The parable of the fig tree follows.  A tree is given another chance.  Time is extended.  Care is offered.

Jesus holds urgency and patience together.  Change matters.  Growth matters.  But grace surrounds the invitation.

In a world eager to categorize, condemn, and weaponize suffering, Christ calls us inward before we speak outward.  Where do we rush to judgment?  Where do we assume moral superiority?

Lent is not about perfecting others.  It is about softening ourselves.

And yet repentance is hopeful.  The gardener believes fruit is possible.

So does God.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I rush to judge others’ circumstances?
2. What change is God cultivating in me?
3. How does grace shape my call to repentance?

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Monday – March 9

Scripture: John 4:7–15

Jesus crosses boundaries—ethnic, religious, gendered—to speak with a Samaritan woman. Living water flows in unexpected directions.

The disciples are absent.  The conversation is intimate, disruptive, transformative.

Christ’s ministry consistently crosses lines society maintains.  Lent asks us: what boundaries remain unquestioned in our lives?

Living water is not tribal.  It is abundant.

Perhaps the Church’s calling in this moment is not to retreat into homogenous comfort but to lean into courageous encounter.

To drink living water is to become a source of refreshment for others.

Reflection Questions

1. What boundaries shape my relationships?
2. Who might God be calling me to engage?
3. How has Christ refreshed my soul?

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Tuesday – March 10

Scripture: Matthew 18:21–22

Peter wants clarity.  “How often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?”  Seven sounds generous.  Jesus answers with holy excess: “Not seven times, but seventy-seven.”

Forgiveness is not arithmetic.  It is orientation.

We often treat forgiveness as a transaction—offered once, maybe twice, but certainly not endlessly.  Yet Jesus reframes forgiveness as participation in God’s own mercy.

This does not trivialize harm.  Forgiveness does not erase accountability.  It does not deny boundaries.  But it refuses to let resentment become the architect of our lives.

Lent surfaces old wounds.  Some are fresh.  Some are inherited.  Some are collective—harms carried by communities and systems.  The work of reconciliation cannot happen without truth. But neither can it happen without forgiveness.

Forgiveness is not forgetting.  It is choosing not to weaponize memory.

In a polarized world, grievance becomes identity.  Christ offers a different path—freedom rooted in mercy.

We forgive because we have been forgiven.  We release because we have been released.

Seventy-seven times is not a number.  It is a posture of grace.

Reflection Questions

1. What resentment still lingers in me?
2. Where do I need clearer boundaries alongside forgiveness?
3. How has God’s mercy shaped my ability to forgive?

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Wednesday – March 11

Scripture: Mark 12:28–34

“What is the greatest commandment?”

Jesus answers without hesitation: love God completely, and love your neighbor as yourself.

The scribe responds wisely, recognizing that love surpasses ritual precision.  Jesus tells him, “You are not far from the kingdom.”

Not far.

Love is the measure of proximity to God’s reign.

Yet love is not sentiment.  It is allegiance.  It is embodied commitment to the flourishing of another.  It is refusing to reduce people to caricatures.  It is choosing dignity over dismissal.

In church life, it is possible to defend doctrine passionately and yet fail at love.  It is possible to champion justice publicly and yet neglect tenderness privately.

Lent calls us back to center.

Love of God fuels love of neighbor.  Love of neighbor reveals love of God.

If love becomes abstract, it loses power.  If love becomes partisan, it loses credibility.

Christ gathers us into a love that is expansive, courageous, and practical.

The kingdom draws near wherever love becomes visible.

Reflection Questions

1. What competes with love in my daily life?
2. Who is difficult for me to love?
3. How can I make love tangible today?

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Thursday – March 12

Scripture: Luke 10:33–37

The Samaritan stops.

Compassion interrupts schedule.  It risks misunderstanding.  It crosses boundaries.

Jesus tells this story to reframe a legal question.  The issue is not defining neighbor.  The issue is becoming one.

The priest and Levite likely had reasons.  Fear.  Urgency.  Ritual obligation.  But compassion overrules convenience.

In our time, suffering often arrives through screens.  We scroll past images of need.  We are informed but not transformed.

The Samaritan draws near.  Compassion is proximity.

Lent invites us to notice where we have insulated ourselves from discomfort.  Whose pain do we rationalize?  Whose struggle feels inconvenient?

Mercy is costly.  It spends time and resources.  It risks vulnerability.

But in showing mercy, we resemble Christ.

Go and do likewise.

Reflection Questions

1. Where have I passed by suffering?
2. What keeps me distant from those in need?
3. How can compassion become habitual rather than occasional?

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Friday – March 13

Scripture: Matthew 6:19–21

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Jesus invites examination—not guilt, but clarity.

Treasure is not only money.  It is attention.  Energy.  Affection.  Anxiety.

What occupies your imagination when you wake?  What do you defend instinctively?  What loss would undo you?

Lent gently exposes misplaced treasure.

Earthly treasure promises security but delivers fragility.  Heavenly treasure—justice, mercy, reconciliation—endures.

This is not a rejection of material life.  It is a re-ordering of priorities.

The Church must ask this corporately as well.  What do we protect?  Buildings?  Reputation? Comfort?  Or do we invest boldly in compassion, inclusion, and service?

Hearts follow treasure.

If we want hearts shaped by Christ, we must invest where Christ invests.

Reflection Questions

1. What does my time reveal about my treasure?
2. Where might I redirect energy toward God’s kingdom?
3. How does generosity reshape desire?

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Saturday – March 14

Scripture: John 13:12–15

After washing their feet, Jesus asks, “Do you understand what I have done?”

Foot washing unsettles hierarchy.  The Teacher kneels.  The Lord serves.

Discipleship mirrors this posture.

In a culture obsessed with status, kneeling feels counterintuitive.  Yet Christ’s authority is revealed in humility.

The Church must continually rediscover this.  Power in the kingdom does not elevate self; it lifts others.

Lent strips pretension.  It invites quiet service unseen by applause.

To kneel is not to diminish oneself.  It is to align with Christ.

Reflection Questions

1. Where is God inviting me to kneel?
2. What pride resists service?
3. How does humility strengthen community?

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Fourth Sunday in Lent – March 15

Scripture: Luke 15:1–7

A shepherd leaves ninety-nine to search for one.

Heaven rejoices over restoration.

The math seems impractical.  Yet love is not driven by efficiency.

The lost sheep does not find its own way back.  The shepherd searches.

This is the heart of God.

The Church that reflects Christ must reflect this urgency.  Not merely welcoming those who arrive, but seeking those who feel forgotten, alienated, or wounded by the church itself.

Joy defines this parable.  Restoration is celebration.

Do we share heaven’s joy when someone returns?  Or do we quietly question their belonging?

Grace is extravagant.

Lent moves us toward Easter joy by reminding us of the joy of being found.

Reflection Questions

1. Who feels lost in my orbit?
2. Do I celebrate grace freely?
3. How can I participate in restoration?

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Monday – March 16

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 5:17

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation.”

New creation is not merely future promise; it is present reality breaking in.  Paul does not say we will become new someday.  He says in Christ, we are becoming new now.

Yet newness is rarely dramatic.  It is often subtle, unfolding slowly in habits reshaped, conversations softened, assumptions challenged, courage strengthened.

Moderately progressive Christians often long for systemic change—and rightly so.  But systemic change begins with transformed people.  New creation is not only social reform; it is spiritual renewal that spills outward into justice, compassion, and humility.

The old self clings to defensiveness, self-righteousness, scarcity thinking.  The new self trusts grace, practices generosity, and risks vulnerability.

What might new creation look like in your daily life?  Perhaps it is listening more than speaking.  Perhaps it is confessing when wrong.  Perhaps it is stepping toward someone you once avoided.

God is not in the business of cosmetic religion.  God is in the business of resurrection.

And resurrection always begins in places that looked finished.

Reflection Questions

1. What old pattern is Christ reshaping in me?
2. Where do I resist becoming new?
3. How might my renewal bless others?

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Tuesday – March 17

Scripture: John 1:5

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Darkness feels powerful.  Headlines amplify it.  Injustice entrenches it.  Division feeds it.

But darkness is absence, not substance.  Light has substance.

The Gospel does not deny darkness.  It announces that darkness does not win.

Light shines quietly but persistently.  It exposes lies without humiliating.  It clarifies confusion without shaming.  It warms without consuming.  It sings without shouting.

To follow Christ is to become carriers of that light.  Not harsh floodlights of condemnation, but steady lamps of truth and mercy.

Where does darkness seem most thick around you?  In political hostility?  In environmental neglect?  In economic disparity?  In loneliness?

Light does not retreat because darkness exists.  It shines precisely there.

Lent trains our eyes to notice where we can shine—not perfectly, but faithfully.

The smallest light in a dark room changes the room.

Reflection Questions

1. Where does darkness feel overwhelming?
2. What steady light can I offer?
3. How has Christ’s light met me personally?

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Wednesday – March 18

Scripture: Psalm 23

“The Lord is my shepherd.”

The shepherd leads, restores, accompanies.

Even in valleys.

Psalm 23 is not sentimental poetry.  It is defiant trust.  Valleys exist.  Enemies exist.  Yet the table is set.  The cup overflows.

A church that dreams of being better at following in the way of Christ is shepherded, not self-directed.  It listens for guidance rather than manufacturing vision from anxiety.

Where are you walking through shadow?  Illness?  Fatigue?  Discouragement?  Institutional uncertainty?

The Shepherd does not eliminate valleys.  The Shepherd walks through them with us.

Lent reminds us that accompaniment is holy.  We are called not to fix every valley, but to walk beside one another within them.

Surely goodness and mercy follow—not occasionally, but all the days.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I need shepherding?
2. Who might need my steady presence?
3. Can I trust goodness in uncertain terrain?

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Thursday – March 19

Scripture: Ezekiel 22:30

“I looked for someone to stand in the gap.”

To stand in the gap is to intercede—to step between harm and healing, between injustice and repair.

The prophet laments the absence of such people.

A reconciling church stands in the gap.  It does not inflame division but works toward restoration.  It does not ignore injustice but confronts it with courage and humility.

Standing in the gap is costly.  It invites misunderstanding.  It resists simplistic narratives.

But someone must stand.

Perhaps that someone is you—in your family, your workplace, your community.

Lent asks: Where is the breach? And who will step into it?

Reflection Questions

1. Where is there a gap in my community?
2. What risk might faith require?
3. How can I stand without self-righteousness?

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Friday – March 20

Scripture: Luke 7:36–50

Her love is extravagant.

The woman who anoints Jesus disrupts polite religion.  She weeps, she kneels, she pours costly perfume.

Love does not measure carefully.

Those forgiven deeply love deeply.

Perhaps one danger of respectable faith is restrained gratitude.  We forget how much we have been forgiven.

Lent rekindles awareness of grace.

What would extravagant gratitude look like?  Generous giving?  Bold advocacy?  Tender mercy?

Love that flows from forgiveness cannot remain contained.

Reflection Questions

1. Have I forgotten the depth of grace given to me?
2. Where can gratitude overflow?
3. What costly love might I offer?

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Saturday – March 21

Scripture: Ezekiel 37:1–14

The valley is full of bones—dry, scattered, lifeless.  Ezekiel is asked an impossible question: “Can these bones live?”

The prophet does not answer with optimism or despair.  He answers with humility: “O Lord God, you know.”

Exile had drained hope from Israel.  Identity felt fractured.  The future appeared sealed shut.  Yet God commands the prophet to speak—to prophesy breath into what seemed beyond repair.

We know valleys like this.  Congregations weary from conflict.  Communities fractured by polarization.  Justice efforts stalled.  Personal dreams abandoned.  Sometimes the dryness is external; sometimes it is interior.

The Spirit does not deny the dryness.  The Spirit enters it.

Breath—the same breath that animated creation—moves again.  Tendons form.  Flesh returns. Life stands up.

Lent teaches us to name the bones honestly.  But it also trains us to speak hope courageously.

We are not naïve about brokenness.  We are faithful about possibility.

Resurrection does not begin on Easter morning.  It begins whenever God breathes where we had given up.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I see dry bones—in myself, in the Church, in the world?
2. Do I dare believe renewal is possible?
3. What hopeful word might I speak into a barren place?

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Fifth Sunday in Lent – March 22

Scripture: John 12:20–33

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies…”

Jesus speaks of loss as the pathway to fruitfulness.  Clinging preserves the seed but prevents multiplication.  Surrender appears like failure, yet it becomes abundance.

This is resurrection logic.  It contradicts our instincts.

We cling to control, reputation, certainty, comfort.  But Lent gently loosens our grip.

What must fall in order for life to grow?  Perhaps it is the need to be right.  Perhaps it is fear of change.  Perhaps it is a version of church that once served well but no longer bears fruit.

Jesus does not romanticize loss.  The cross is real.  Yet he trusts that God brings life through surrender.

We often work tirelessly for reform.  But reform without surrender can become exhaustion.  The grain must fall not in despair, but in trust.

Death is not the final word.  But dying—to ego, to fear, to control—often precedes renewal.

The Church flourishes not by preserving itself at all costs, but by offering itself for the sake of the world.

Fruit grows in surrendered soil.

Reflection Questions

1. What am I holding too tightly?
2. What might grow if I released control?
3. Do I trust God’s resurrection logic?

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Monday – March 23

Scripture: John 12:1–8

Mary anoints Jesus with costly perfume.  Others protest waste.  Jesus calls it love.

Devotion often appears impractical.  It does not calculate return on investment.  It pours itself out.

Mary senses what others miss: suffering approaches.  Her act becomes preparation.

In our efficiency-driven culture, love is often evaluated by measurable outcomes.  But some acts are sacred precisely because they are extravagant.

Lent invites us to recover holy attentiveness.  Where is Christ present before us?  In the suffering neighbor?  In the anxious child?  In the weary elder?

To love well is not wasteful.

The fragrance fills the house.  Genuine devotion cannot be contained.

Perhaps we hesitate because we fear judgment.  But Christ receives what is offered freely.

Extravagant love prepares us for costly discipleship.

Reflection Questions

1. Where might I offer uncalculated love?
2. What keeps me from generosity?
3. How does devotion prepare me for suffering?

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Tuesday – March 24

Scripture: Mark 10:42–45

“Whoever wishes to be great must be servant.”

Greatness kneels.

Jesus contrasts worldly power with kingdom authority.  Domination controls.  Servanthood restores.

The Church must continually examine its posture.  Do we seek influence for prestige, or for service?  Do we protect position, or empower the vulnerable?

Servant leadership is not weakness.  It is strength disciplined by humility.

In polarized times, leadership often amplifies ego.  Christ redefines leadership as self-giving.

This challenges clergy and laity alike.  Titles do not confer greatness.  Love does.

Lent reshapes ambition.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I seek recognition?
2. How can I lead through service?
3. What does greatness look like in God’s kingdom?

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Wednesday – March 25

Scripture: Jeremiah 31:31–34

A covenant written on the heart.

God promises intimacy, not mere obligation.  The law internalized becomes love embodied.

Religion easily becomes external compliance.  Lent presses inward.  Is faith shaping my instincts, or merely my public identity?

When grace writes upon the heart, compassion becomes natural.  Justice becomes reflexive.  Forgiveness becomes possible.

This is transformation deeper than behavior modification.

The new covenant is relational.

Reflection Questions

1. Is my faith internal or external?
2. What shapes my heart most deeply?
3. How is God writing upon my life?

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Thursday– March 26

Scripture: Isaiah 53

He was despised and rejected.

Isaiah’s servant bears grief, carries sorrow, absorbs violence.

We often prefer triumphant images of God.  Yet Scripture offers vulnerability at the center of redemption.

The suffering servant does not retaliate.  He absorbs cruelty and transforms it.

The cross exposes systems that crush the innocent.  It reveals the depth of human injustice.  Yet it also reveals divine solidarity.

God does not stand distant from suffering.  God enters it.

For a church committed to justice, this matters.  We do not confront injustice from superiority, but from shared humanity.  We resist harm without becoming harmful.

Sacrificial love is costly.  It risks misunderstanding.  It chooses faithfulness over vindication.

The servant’s wounds become healing.

Reflection Questions

1. Where do I see suffering ignored?
2. How does Christ’s vulnerability reshape strength?
3. What might redemptive love look like in conflict?

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Friday – March 27

Scripture: Psalm 130

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.”

This is not polite prayer.  It is desperate honesty.

The psalmist waits—more than watchmen wait for morning.

Waiting stretches faith.  We wait for justice.  For healing.  For change.  For reconciliation.

Hope does not eliminate depth; it anchors within it.

Lent teaches patient trust.  We do not rush from Good Friday to Easter.  We linger long enough to feel longing.

Yet the psalm does not end in despair. “With the Lord there is steadfast love.”

Morning comes.

Reflection Questions

1. What depths am I navigating?
2. How can I wait without surrendering hope?
3. Where do I see signs of dawn?

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Saturday – March 28

Scripture: Hebrews 12:1–3

Surrounded by witnesses, we run with perseverance.

Faith is not solitary.  Generations before us endured exile, persecution, doubt.

They trusted resurrection beyond evidence.

We grow weary.  Institutions falter.  Cultural tides shift.

But we are not alone.

Christ endured the cross “for the joy set before him.”

Joy sustains endurance.

Lent strengthens perseverance not through denial of hardship, but through fixation on hope.

Reflection Questions

1. Who has modeled faith for me?
2. Where is endurance required now?
3. How does resurrection sustain perseverance?

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