Lord, teach me. . . .

There’s something about Lent that makes sense. You give something up, and everything’s more joyful. –Elaine Stritch Ash Wednesday, March 6, marks the beginning of Lent, the 40-day period when Christians reflect on the time Jesus spent in the wilderness, leading up to his ultimate crucifixion and resurrection. For many, Lent is a time of quiet introspection. Some choose to make these forty days a tithe, or 10%, of the year of their lives, giving something up as a sacrifice to God. Maybe we decide to quit smoking for forty days, or give up eating chocolate. But what if, this year, we decided to take a different approach? What if, instead of giving up something for Lent, we chose to let something go ? When we let go of things that hold us back from serving God fully, a remarkable thing happens. In place of impatience, God creates a space for listening. In releasing resentment, God gives a new sense of peace and belonging. And believe it or not . . . in letting go of the...

And in the end, the Love you take  is equal  to the Love you make. –Paul McCartney I lost two friends this week, Ray and Megory. Both were later additions to my life journey, and both have helped me better understand what it means to live well, right to the very end. Ray was 86 years old. He was raised in the church, and taught to process what he heard from the pulpit. He was never shy about asking (or telling) me what I meant by something I’ve said. He kept me on my toes. (Now, it’s up to you .) But the most important thing I learned from Ray was constant, abiding gratitude. Right up till his last moments, even as disease and cancer ravaged his tired body, he was grateful to God—and he would let everyone know it. Megory died too soon. Her body betrayed her in a moment of weakness. But throughout her life and journey, she lived in such a way as to help us understand that death is but a bridge, a path to something we just cannot yet understand. Megory ...

It is in times of extreme difficulty that God develops our character and strengthens us spiritually,  while helping us to grow deeper in our faith in [God]. –Charles Stanley People say things like this all the time: Well, you know . . . God will never give you more than you can handle. Well, you know . . . if you have even a teeny bit of faith, God will take care of your problems. Well, you know . . . just let go and trust in God. God’s got this. And oh, so many more. The folks who offer such wisdom mean well, I know they do. And if you have ever said such things, I am pretty sure you meant well, too. But here’s where I struggle: Sayings like these make me feel so— helpless . And I don’t mean that in a good way. Helpless, like even if I can manage to trust God, I sure as heck don’t see or feel God at work in this awful, dark situation. Even if God is at work—if I don’t sense God’s hand, then it sure feels like God did give me more than I can han...

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause  for wonder and admiration in winter.  --John Burroughs January has been a month of frozen pipes and furnace failures, snow forts and snow rollers. Some days, the cold seems to seep straight into our bones. The sunshine, while brilliant, does little to warm the frozen landscape. It’s been a challenging few days. And we have survived. Have you experienced a “spiritual winter”? A season when, despite brilliance and light all around, our soul feels cold and alone. God seems so very far away, his voice barely a whisper (if we can hear him at all). Spiritual winter comes to each of us, perhaps for a day, a week—or a seemingly interminable stretch. We may feel like something is “wrong” with us, and choose to isolate ourselves, rather than come together in love. Bad choice. We warm one another and draw on each other for strength and light. Just as removing a coal from the blazing fire ...

My feeling is that labels are for canned food.  I am what I am—and I know what I am. –Michael Stipe I have this habit. It’s neither bad nor good; it’s just part of who I am. Whenever I buy a new sweater or top, one of the first things I do is cut the label out of the back of the neck. On my best days, I actually find my seam ripper and pick the stitching out, so there’s nary a trace of the label’s existence. I do this because the label makes me uncomfortable. It scratches and pokes. And for me, a label is really pretty meaningless. I don’t choose a sweater because it’s a Gucci or Vera; I choose it because I like the way it makes me feel, or because of its quality. (Bonus if it’s on sale.) Why do we even need labels, anyway? Does applying a label automatically make one sweater better or less worthy? It’s not about what’s on the tag; it’s about the sweater .  And it’s the same way with people, isn’t it? We are so quick to apply a label to someone. C...

We didn’t invent anything new. Hospitality has been around forever. –Joe Gebbia When Jesus comes to a party, it can become quite the affair. When he and his mother attended a wedding at Cana, it wasn’t long before the party was in trouble. Just when things appeared to be getting into full swing, the host ran out of wine. Can you imagine? Throwing a party and drastically underestimating the number of guests? How embarrassing! We don’t know who this family was, but we do know that when Jesus’ mother notices the problem and mentions it to Jesus, even though initially he declines, ultimately Jesus acquiesces to his mother’s wishes. In a big way. Jesus didn’t just turn water into wine; he turned gallons of water into very fine wine. And that’s where we often get stuck: on the miracle of water-to-wine. But this story isn’t just about Jesus’ first miracle. This story is about Jesus’ early illustration of the radical hospitality awaiting us all when the Reign of ...

Leadership is an art expressed by the demonstration of characters worthy of imitation, emulation and inspiration. It is neither a title nor a position. –Israelmore Ayivor Church-shopping is hard work. When we find ourselves wanting to return to church after a long absence (or maybe for the first time), or needing to move on because our current church home has changed (or, more likely, we are the ones who have changed), we hardly know where to start. The obvious thing to do is to ask our friends about their church. And inevitably, they will mention the pastor. After all, the pastor is the one who stands before the congregation every week, guides us spiritually, motivates us to be better people and generally sets the tone of the church. Right? Absolutely. Sort of. Ask yourself: if the person leading worship left unexpectedly, how would I feel about continuing to be a part of this church? What is it about this congregation that keeps me coming back every wee...