Exodus 16: 1-12

1 They set out from Elim, and all the congregation of the people of Israel came to the wilderness of Sin, which is between Elim and Sinai, on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had departed from the land of Egypt. 2 And the whole congregation of the people of Israel murmured against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness, 3 and said to them, “Would that we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate bread to the full; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” 4 Then the Lord said to Moses, “Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day, that I may prove them, whether they will walk in my law or not. 5 On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather daily.” 6 So Moses and Aaron said to all the people of Israel, “At evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, 7 and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your murmurings against the Lord. For what are we that you murmur against us?” 8 And Moses said, “When the Lord gives you in the evening flesh to eat and in the morning bread to the full, because the Lord has heard your murmurings which you murmur against him - what are we? Your murmurings are not against us but against the Lord.” 9 And Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the people of Israel, ‘Come near before the Lord, for he has heard your murmurings.’” 10 And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the people of Israel, they looked toward the wilderness, and behold, the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. 11 And the Lord said to Moses, 12 “I have heard the murmurings of the people of Israel; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat flesh, and in the morning you shall be filled with bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’”

Ruth 2:19-21

19 And her mother-in-law said to her, “Where did you glean today? And where have you worked? Blessed be the man who took notice of you.” So she told her mother-in-law with whom she had worked and said, “The man’s name with whom I worked today is Boaz,” 20 And Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, “May he be blessed by the Lord, whose kindness has not forsaken the living or the dead!” Naomi also said to her, “The man is a close relative of ours, one of our redeemers." 21 And Ruth the Moabite said, “Besides, he said to me, ‘You shall keep close by my young men until they have finished all my harvest.’”

Reflection

Wilderness … an uncultivated, uninhabited, often inhospitable region. Also, an area where people themselves are visitors striving to not remain. But do we always engage the journey with expectation as we tentatively step along with slow advance, and do we crane forward with anticipation to better hear and respond to a voice crying in the wilderness. In my experience, no. Transition is often difficult even when wilderness travel is somehow avoided. However, hardships explode beyond our realization when we discover we’re traveling within the grasp of wilderness. If birds are chirping, ears are unhearing. We’re so absorbed we’re numb. In fact, our senses focus on the solitude with the horizon endlessly spanning ahead. Notably, our Savior experienced wilderness immediately following His Father’s proclamation, “This is My Son. With Him I am well pleased”. Quite the sharp transition from the Holy Spirit just previously descending on Him like a dove. Israelites grumbled through wilderness circuitously advancing toward the Promised Land. Their trek ensued following miraculous events culminating in walking on a dry pathway through the Red Sea. Quite the sharp transition from walking between walls of water held back by the Hands of God.

Naomi’s wilderness slowly collected around her with the passing of her husband and her two sons. No wonder she excused her daughters-in-law to return as widows to their immediate families, exclaiming, “Have I more sons in my womb to raise as future husbands for you?” Yet one returned and one remained. Ruth’s devotion to this wilderness journeyer remarkably demonstrated a steadfastness for experiencing the process together. What an incredible gift of presence as she stepped into a new role as placeholder for Naomi’s deceased sons and husband. Through God’s design, she provided sustainable resources for herself and her widowed mother-in-law. Perhaps this act of devoted love provides a forecast of Jesus joining His disciples’ wilderness journey on the road to Emmaus. As they walked along discussing the day’s events that all hell had broken to pieces targeting their anticipation that He was the Promised Messiah. “And their eyes were opened in the breaking of the bread”, offering to them both human and Holy Sustenance.

Sam and I grew up together through elementary, junior high, and high school. We experienced adventures through athletics and Boy Scouts, through family cookouts and working with livestock on our respective ranches. Then we graduated from high school and entered life, separated by geography and careers. Reunited through tragedy, Sam showed up at my parent’s home on the afternoon following my mother’s death. And he stayed.

As others arrived and others departed, he stayed. He didn’t offer special words. He did provide a hug which I welcomed, and I sobbed on his shoulder. He didn’t bring food. He didn’t awkwardly attempt conversation or imply he knew “how I felt”; no one did. He simply stayed – for hours – remaining, in no hurry to leave. His act of devoted love mirrored the gift of presence lived out in countless Biblical illustrations, culminating through our Savior’s presence with forlorn disciples. And His Gift of Presence exists today, through any wilderness journey. He knows firsthand about temptation, feeling forsaken, and walking through wilderness. I always receive unspeakable benefit from love expressed through devoted presence. We sometimes feel another’s voice crying in the wilderness when so numb we’re deaf. And don’t we all hold experiences preparing us for the gift of presence, Formed in the Wilderness, for others?

Prayer

Creator of All Things,

Growth exists even in, perhaps especially through, inhospitable regions we are chosen to travel. This growth can occur nowhere else and serves us opportunity to share a love, so inexpressible words fail. We glimpse dimly, often through tears, a piece of the walk suffered by the Man of Sorrows for us and others. Thank You. Amen.

Isaiah 43:2

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

Reflection:

Have you ever felt the need for a hard reset, not just in your body, but in your soul? For years, I have been quietly drawn to the Camino de Santiago—nearly 500 miles, five weeks of walking. I’ve read about it, watched films, and carried it in my heart, imagining myself on that road, even though I couldn’t explain why. I understand now why so many pilgrims begin the Camino without answers, trusting that meaning will meet them somewhere along the way. When that path remained out of reach, God met me on another one.

Over several years, I found myself saying yes to long walks and long bike rides—a 26-mile march through White Sands, twice; forty miles over two days, three times; and more than 230 miles on a bike across Missouri. At the time, none of it felt holy. It was just hard, and hot, and quiet, and long.

I didn’t know why I kept doing it. I wasn’t strong or fast. I just knew I had to train and show up day after day, putting one foot in front of the other. Ten hours on your feet gives you a lot of time to think. Eventually, thinking gives way to listening.

Somewhere in those miles, the wilderness stopped feeling empty. It became a place where distractions fell away, where weakness was exposed, and where God felt closer than words. The road became a kind of prayer that was steady, repetitive, and honest.

I didn’t know I needed to be reset, but I did. God was forming something in me long before I could name it. The meaning didn’t arrive all at once. It rarely does. But looking back, I can see it now: endurance was being shaped, trust was being learned, and faith was being strengthened in the quiet. And when I finally came through, I felt different—stronger, calmer, more rooted, and more aware of His presence guiding every step.

I carry with me daily that long season of my life, and I am so grateful to everyone who cheered me on and waited for me at the finish line.

Where might God be meeting you in a wilderness season right now? What disciplines or daily rhythms might He be using to prepare you? Is there an area of your life where endurance is being formed before clarity is given?

Prayer:

God, thank You for meeting me on the road when I didn’t know what I was looking for. Thank You for the wilderness places that form us before they explain us. Teach me to keep walking, to trust the slow work of Your hands, and to believe that You are preparing me—even when I can’t yet see where the road leads. Amen.

1 Kings 19:1-8

And Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, also how he had executed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So let the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by tomorrow about this time.” And when he saw that, he arose and ran for his life, and went to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there.

But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he prayed that he might die, and said, “It is enough! Now, LORD, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!” Then as he lay and slept under a broom tree, suddenly an angel touched him, and said to him, “Arise and eat.” Then he looked, and there by his head was a cake baked on coals, and a jar of water. So he ate and drank, and lay down again. And the angel of the LORD came back the second time, and touched him, and said, “Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you.” So he arose, and ate and drank; and he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights as far as Horeb, the mountain of God.

Reflection:

During the recent cold front (the one with the snow and ice), I spent some time back home helping my parents on their ranch. I have always loved cold weather, and I spent almost the entire weekend outside, soaking up the beauty of nature covered in ice. In the midst of frozen paradise, God sent me a subtle reminder. One of our heifers had her first calf on a Friday. We watched the calf try to nurse, but he was kicked off or trampled each time. Saturday morning, we checked to see if he had made any progress. His mama was still kicking him off the udder. The calf was weak and shivering. In many ways, this calf resembles Elijah. He was left to die until we came to save him. Dad and I caught the calf and bottle fed him three times a day, returning him back to his mom after each feeding in hopes she would care for him. After the third day of pulling the calf to be bottle fed, he was finally able to nurse his mom. Now, “Little Pete” is strong enough to run and play with the rest of the calves and is getting care from his mama.

Much like Elijah, our calf needed to eat to prepare for his journey ahead. His body was shutting down, preparing to die when we found him. He didn’t want a bottle; I had to force feed him several times. But as the hours and days passed, our Little Pete grew stronger and was able to continue on his journey, eventually reuniting with his little calf friends. In the same way, Elijah needed God to find him, encourage him, and give him strength to continue on his journey to Horeb.

In nature and the wilderness, we are exposed. Little Pete was found in the cold, quiet wilderness, where he would become another victim, succumbing to the cold. Elijah was found in the wilderness: exhausted, isolated, and ready to give up. Yet, the wilderness was not where either of them was abandoned. It was where they were found by God. God found Elijah under the broom tree and sent an angel with food, rest, and gentle encouragement. God found that little calf through us and gave him what he needed to survive. In both stories, provision came before purpose and strength was restored before the journey continued.

Our wilderness could look like exhaustion, discouragement, illness, grief, or confusion about what comes next, different tribulations for us each. But Scripture reminds us that the wilderness is often where God meets His people most intimately. When we feel fragile and forgotten, God is still working, still feeding, still preparing us for what is ahead.

Little Pete didn’t stay weak forever. Elijah didn’t stay under the broom tree forever. And we won’t stay in the wilderness forever either. Sometimes, the wilderness is exactly where God finds us and where He begins to restore us for the journey ahead. Other times, we are like Little Pete, too weak to feed ourselves, too tired to keep going, and too overwhelmed to even want the help that would save us. Elijah was a prophet of God, yet he reached a point where he wanted to give up. God did not scold him. He did not rush him. He fed him, let him rest, and gently reminded him that his journey was not over.

In the same way, God gives us strength through moments in the wilderness. He feeds us through His Word, through people who love us, and through moments of quiet grace we may not even recognize at the time. We may resist at first, just like the calf resisted the bottle, but God patiently strengthens us until we are able to stand again. Little Pete’s story is a reminder that weakness is not the end of the story, but is often a reflection of God’s hand in our journey. When we feel fragile, abandoned, or unable to go on, God is near, sustaining us for the journey ahead. Just like Elijah, and just like that little calf, we are not finished with His plans for us.

Prayer

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for meeting me in my own wilderness. Please continue to have your hand in my life, feed me with your word, and strengthen me when I am weak. Amen.

Psalm 46

1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. 2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea, 3 though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah 4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. 5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. 6 The nations are in an uproar; the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice; the earth melts. 7 The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah 8 Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth. 9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. 10 “Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth.” 11 The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah

Reflection:

“Choose a line or short passage that serves as an example of figurative language and illustrate its meaning. You may draw images or create them using computer graphics. Be creative!” These were the instructions for our son’s recent English assignment. While a task like this terrifies my non-creative self when it relates to Shakespeare, finding figurative or descriptive language in Psalm 46 is less challenging. We can imagine what it would look like if “the mountains fall into the heart of the sea” or if God “breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with his fire.” If we want to imagine a different setting, verse 4 paints a lovely picture of “a river whose streams make glad the city of God.”

Somehow, I always manage to find beauty in the chaos of nature. A lone flower stands strong after a tornado; the colors in a thunderstorm sky are magnificent; the flames of a forest fire are powerfully illuminating. But when I consider the daily chaos of modern life, I often struggle to find anything remotely beautiful. A photo montage of daily chaos would show scenes of difficult, late night conversations at the kitchen table, parents torn between their children’s activities and the demands of work, and vehicle repairs that get more urgent each day. I could probably draw a fire, a storm, or even the heartsick love depicted in Shakespeare. But how do you draw hurt, confusion, and exhaustion? And how in the world could beauty be found here?

This year’s Lent devotionals invited us to write about how God meets us in stories that are unresolved or still unfolding. These instructions gave me the freedom to admit that I haven’t always managed to find beauty in our modern, chaotic life. Sometimes days are just hard, and they don’t seem like anything that an artist should draw. But…. God is there. The very beginning of Psalm 46 tells us that “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” He is ever-present. We don’t need to say the magic word, or click our heels, or go on a treasure hunt. He is there. In the mess, in the confusion, and in the dark, He is there. He says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” I remember learning at Reba Ragsdale’s funeral that she liked this verse about being still. This surprised many of us, because Mrs. Reba was rarely still! But I have no doubt that she was absolutely certain of who God was. And I am confident that she knew He was ever-present in all stages of her life. I admired Mrs. Reba since the day I met her, and I was privileged to witness the beauty and hope that she brought to many people and places. Her memory, and repeated reading of Psalm 46, help me feel God’s ever-presence. I may not find beauty in the chaos every day, but I am absolutely sure God is there.

Prayer:

Dear God, please be near us. When we feel like the mountain we are standing on is falling into the heart of the sea, please help us feel your presence. We seek your peace and your protection. Thank you for being our fortress, our refuge, and our strength. Amen.

Acts 27:13-26

13 When a moderate south wind began to blow, they thought they could achieve their purpose; so they weighed anchor and began to sail past Crete, close to the shore. 14 But soon a violent wind, called the northeaster, rushed down from Crete. 15 Since the ship was caught and could not be turned head-on into the wind, we gave way to it and were driven. 16 By running under the lee of a small island called Cauda we were scarcely able to get the ship’s boat under control. 17 After hoisting it up they took measures to undergird the ship; then, fearing that they would run on the Syrtis, they lowered the sea anchor and so were driven. 18 We were being pounded by the storm so violently that on the next day they began to throw the cargo overboard, 19 and on the third day with their own hands they threw the ship’s tackle overboard. 20 When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days and no small tempest raged, all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned.

21 Since they had been without food for a long time, Paul then stood up among them and said, “Men, you should have listened to me and not have set sail from Crete and thereby avoided this damage and loss. 22 I urge you now to keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. 23 For last night there stood by me an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I worship, 24 and he said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before the emperor, and, indeed, God has granted safety to all those who are sailing with you.’ 25 So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told. 26 But we will have to run aground on some island.”

Reflection:

Have you ever been in a storm of your own making? Yep, me too! These words from Paul sound like my mom. In Acts 27:13-26 we read the storm is bad, the ship is falling apart, the men are scared, they don’t see stars or the sun for days, they throw their provisions over board, they are losing hope and Paul says, “Men, you should have taken my advice not to sail from Crete; then you would have spared yourselves this damage and loss. But now I urge you to keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost; only the ship will be destroyed.”

I was in a particular storm of my own making and said to my mom, “If I could go back with 10% of the knowledge I have now, I’d do things differently.” Mom replied, “You mean all of the things I was telling you?” See? just like Paul! Sarcasm runs deep in my family, but so does the reminder of where our hope comes from. Our hope comes from the Lord!

In storms my mind often gets noisy and I don’t know what’s reliable or true. I don’t know what action to take or when to be still. I can’t seem to think straight or quite the spinning stories in my head. A spiritual practice I turn to when I haven’t seen the stars or the sun and the ship really is about to sink is to write down helpful scriptures on note cards. I carry these cards with me, use them as book marks, I leave them around the house in places I often sit (the breakfast table, etc..) and read over them, often. I take them on walks and in the car. Some are so coffee stained you can’t see all the words. A recent card I made is from Exodus 14:14: “The Lord will fight for you, you only need to be still.”

Prayer:

Lord, I ask that during difficult times you would give me wisdom, that you would guide me and fill me with fruits of the Spirit. Help me to remember Jesus, to remember his life, his example, help me to remember his sacrifice on the cross and help me to remember the hope that came with his resurrection. Forgive me when I get distracted, get discouraged, and lose hope. When the storm comes, help me to fix my thoughts on your word and in doing so help me to renew my trust in you. Amen.

Genesis 1:1-5

1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. 3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.

Reflection:

When most of us think of chaos, we associate it with complete disorder and confusion. Amid chaos, we often feel uneasy, anxious, fearful, rushed, and uncertain. Yet when we remember that God formed the heavens and earth from what was previously formless and empty, we should be reassured that no matter how dark, messy, and chaotic our situations seem, God has a plan to use those troubling times for good.

Out of darkness he created light first. Why? What does light do? For one thing, it symbolizes God’s presence, holiness, truth and life. From the beginning, God wanted us to feel His presence, revere Him, and seek truth and life during times of chaos. As humans, unfortunately, when chaos reigns, we tend to give into the negative emotions and start overthinking all of the dire possibilities. What if we flipped the script and rather than overthinking all of the negatives, we started overthinking all of the positive possibilities? If we lean on God and turn to Him for answers during chaos rather than filling our thoughts with social media, rumors, and negativity, might we learn how to use chaos as a catalyst for change or some form of “dynamic response”?

When I think back over some of the more chaotic times in semi-recent history, I remember the chaos brought on by 9/11. Fear, uncertainty and confusion filled everyone. At the same time, stories of heroism, patriotism, and appreciation began to emerge. In my family, we were worried about my brother-in-law who was flying back from Germany that day. His plane (along with 37 other commercial planes) was diverted to the little town of Gander, Newfoundland. After hours onboard, the passengers were released, and the town hosted these “plane people” and offered them food, shelter, and excursions until flights resumed. The schools shut down, and the students pitched in to help where needed. To thank the community, passengers and airlines set up scholarship funds for the children of Gander. Through this chaos, strangers helped each other and became friends, compassion was shown, and kindness was rewarded.

More recently, we experienced the strange and chaotic Covid-19 pandemic. While temporary shutdowns became more permanent and we learned to interact with masks on and six feet between us, we also found life slowed down. In the midst of chaos, families began to eat meals together again, parents became “homeroom” teachers to their children, neighbors connected during outdoor gatherings, time spent in nature became the safest vacation option, and while the threat of a deadly virus remained, we found hope and community in new ways. We learned to attend church virtually, to meet via Zoom, and to appreciate hugs and face to face interaction once they returned.

Positives result from chaos, too, and when we trust in our Creator, peace replaces fear and anxiety, and we can relax in His presence. This quote by John Mroz perfectly states that idea: “Peace is not the absence of chaos or conflict but rather finding yourself in the midst of that chaos and remaining calm in your heart.” What can you do today to remain calm in your heart and bring peace to others in the midst of chaos? What chaotic creation are you discussing with God today?

Prayer:

Dear God, during times of chaos, please be my vision. Help me use times of uncertainty to lean on You and seek to understand how best to respond. When I am confused, guide my actions and guard my tongue. Fill me with Your peace in the midst of it all. Amen.

Mark 4:35-41

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion, and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And waking up, he rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Be silent! Be still! Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?”

Reflection:

In November 2018, my wife Karan and I were invited to go on a trip to Israel with our former church group from Pflugerville. It was an amazing experience, beyond what I could have ever imagined. One of the highlights for me was a trip on the Sea of Galilee in a boat that was built much like what was used in Jesus’ time.

The “sea” is actually a freshwater lake with high hills on each side. It was a calm, sunny day and we stopped at one point and our pastor read the story about the storm from Mark’s gospel. I thought about the calm water that day, trying to image a storm coming up. We were assured that the hills on each side of the lake funneled storms basically down the middle of the lake and they could come up at any time and can be very frightening, even to this day. I was happy that it was a calm day for us!

At many locations we visited, we were told that this is “mostly likely the place” or “this is the place scholars believe is probably where this or that gospel story occurred.” But on the Sea of Galilee, it was the exact place where Jesus and his disciples experienced the chaos of a sudden fierce storm. The scripture says the disciples were afraid for their lives, but Jesus was calmly asleep in the boat. It was in the real chaos of the storm, the real fear of the disciples, that Jesus was silently asleep. When they wake Jesus and say, “don’t you care if we drown,” it is very much like times in our chaotic lives when health fails, finances strain, prayers seem unanswered, or current news reports and social media posts feel overwhelming. In those times we may be asking “Jesus don’t you care about all this stuff I am going through?”

It is interesting that when Jesus wakes up, he does not fight the storm, but he rebukes it and the storm subsides. Rather than saying “Thank you Lord”, the disciples say “Who is this that can do these things?” This story is about revelation—the revelation that Jesus may seem silent at times, but that he is the one who can silence the chaos, even an actual storm.

Let us use this Lenten season to learn to turn to Christ in the midst of the chaos that is inevitable in our daily lives. The disciples experienced the physical presence of Jesus with them. As we move through Lent toward the day of resurrection, we have faith in that same presence of Jesus that is with us today.

Prayer :

Gracious God, Teach us in this Lenten season to trust your presence more than our own perception. Help us to remember that in the chaos of our lives, you are in the boat with us, always calmer than we are. Speak peace into our lives as we seek to follow and serve you. AMEN.

Habakkuk 1:2-5

“2 O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you not hear? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save? 3 Why do you make me see iniquity, and why do you idly look at wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and commotion arise. 4 So the law is paralyzed, and justice never goes forth. For the wicked surround the righteous; so justice goes forth perverted.

5 ‘Look among the nations and see; wonder and be astounded. For I am doing a work in your days that you would not believe if told.’”

Reflection:

“Hindsight is 20/20.” How many times have you wished that foresight could be just as clear as hindsight? Our comfort movies, shows, and books all tell us stories that we know so we can take comfort in something happening the way it’s supposed to. We like to know the ending before we begin, but we can’t often have that.

Every semester, I find myself scrambling the first few weeks of class and questioning how I could ever adapt to all the new things in my life. So many things demand my attention that I feel caught in a web of responsibilities, waiting for the world to realize that I have no idea what I’m doing. Classwork piles up, research falls behind, the weather goes haywire, the calendar gets filled, relationships are strained, my prayers get desperate, and somehow it’s all supposed to work out. Through the chaos of a million thoughts shouting for attention, the only truth I know for sure is that God has never failed, not in the history of the world, or my life. Still, l just want to know the plan for the present sometimes.

I can so easily look back at my life and see Christ’s hand holding it all together, bringing me closer to His side through every trial and molding me when I felt lost. But in the moment, I could never imagine what God was doing, and I probably wouldn’t believe Him if He told me. I could sometimes see what God was doing after the fact, how He was forming me through the chaos, but in the moment I’d just be asking, “Why?” Though just as the LORD told Habakkuk to watch and see His mighty provision in the chaos of the nations, He tells us to trust Him in the chaos of our lives. We don’t have to know what’s going to happen; we just have to trust the One who is working through all of it.

Because ultimately faith is not about knowing; it’s about trusting. When Moses stood on the shore of the Red Sea, he didn’t know what God was going to do. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego stood before the fiery furnace, they didn’t know if God would save them or not. When Daniel was thrown into the lions’ den of King Darius, he didn’t know what would happen. These faithful men didn’t need to know what the plan was; they just trusted that the LORD would provide. They walked by faith in the One who holds the future; they didn’t need to see it to believe.

So as we continue through the season of Lent in the chaos of our world, remember what it means to walk by faith. We don’t need to know the future or make order out of the chaos around us; we just have to trust the God who’s holding it all together. Look out at the world and be amazed, for God is moving in ways you’d never expect or believe, forming you for His kingdom.

Prayer:

Almighty Father, thank you for the unending faithfulness of your love that you have poured out into this world in ways we could never fathom. Thank you for stepping into our chaotic world and forming new hearts within us to love you more each day. Strengthen our faith, O Lord, that we may see your provision in the past to lift up our present and future to you in faithful submission. Give us the strength to walk by faith and magnify your Name, O Lord. In Jesus’s name we pray, Amen.

Psalm 13 (ESV)

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O LORD my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Reflection:

I am learning that God is not only the God of sufferers, but the God who suffers. The pain and fallenness of humanity have entered God’s own heart. Through the prism of my tears, I see a suffering God. We know the suffering Messiah; in lament we encounter the suffering Triune God. Created in God’s image, we come to understand God more deeply when we realize that, in God’s existence, suffering is not foreign. This is a turning point in lament: we learn that to ache over injustice, indignity, or humanity’s agony is not a failure of faith, but participation in God’s own sorrow. Lent invites us to remain when every ounce of our being wants to move on. Psalm 13 teaches us how to stay. It does not rush suffering toward resolution; it lingers long enough for faith to speak honestly. Read it slowly out loud.

The psalm opens with a raw, familiar cry: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” These words belong alongside betrayal, pain, fear, and the cross. Lament begins inwardly, when defenses fall and God feels absent. This is not weak faith; it is faith telling the truth. To ask, “How long?” already assumes God is listening. There may even be anger in it. I found myself asking it recently—unexpectedly—in an oral surgeon’s office after some failed attempts to insert an IV.

Crying out in pain is a turning point: God does not correct or silence this cry. Jesus himself prayed it from the cross. God does not observe abandonment from a distance; in Christ, God enters it. Divine love is revealed not through explanation, but through presence. God does not hurry suffering. God suffers with us.

Psalm 13 then turns quietly toward petition: “Look on me and answer… light up my eyes.” This is not a demand for escape from pain, but a plea for presence. Lament is filled with such prayers—honest, unpolished, spoken from fear. We stop talking about God and begin speaking to God. Relationships reopen, even while pain remains.

Then comes the risk: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love.” Nothing has changed yet. This trust echoes Jesus committing his spirit into the Father’s hands. It is not triumph, but surrender. Praise here is not Easter joy; it is memory holding the pressure of belief through faith together while wounds are still open.

The Lenten season invites us to stay with Christ at the cross, with those who suffer, and with our own unresolved grief, whether rooted in childhood loss or anticipatory grief for a loved one facing cancer. Hope here is not optimism. It is presence when nothing is fixed.

Lament is where God chooses to be known in pain. Psalm 13 moves from questioning, to pleading, then turns to praise—not because circumstances change, but because relationship deepens. That turning point may come through corporate assembly, song writing, poetry, active imagination, nighttime dreams, or the quiet prompting of the Holy Spirit. When seeking God in your suffering, remember the Triune God who stays, and seek the Spirit’s sustaining grace. Prayer from Psalm 102:

Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry come to you! Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress! Incline your ear to me; answer me speedily in the day when I call!

Matthew 14:12-14; 18:20

12 John’s disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus. 13 When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. 14 When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

Ruth 2: 14-18

14 At this they wept again. 15 “Look”, said Naomi, “your sister-in-law is going back to her people, to and her gods. Go back with her”. 16 But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or turn back from you. Where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will by my people and your God my God. 17 Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.” 18 When Naomi realized that Ruth was determined to go with her, she stopped urging her.

Reflection:

Lament …. passionate experience of loss often holding expression of grief, sorrow, or wailing; a mournful out-pouring; remembrance of previous loss or losses; sometimes expressed musically through a dirge or a requiem (from Latin – rest).

However, personal lament is quite personal and does not include an immediate time of internal rest.

Lament suggests a time of inexpressible grief from loss. A “lonely” experience. Scripture documents that Jesus frequently withdrew to ‘a lonely place’. When Jesus heard that his cousin John had been beheaded, “He withdrew from there and went to a lonely place. Yet when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. And He had compassion on them and healed their sick.” This act of compassion speaks loudly of Jesus’ holiness. How well do we extend comfort to others when we are seeking comfort for ourselves?

Grief and lament can often lead us to places of compassion. So, do Jesus’ actions tell us our grief is softened as we walk through grief with another? Are we healed through healing?

Ruth’s widowhood shared with Naomi’s losses of husband and sons deeply bonded the two, leading Ruth to choose going with her mother-in-law into the future rather than returning to her past. Ruth and Naomi shared a deep connection that they had with no other.

Life’s experiences tightly bind us.

During my own lament, my spirit searches for an understanding companionship with kindred spirit, not out of hunger for sympathy, but rather needing something more personal, more intimate, even more binding than expressed empathy. Perhaps empathy-plus comes close to describing another person identifying with your new emptiness.

The depth of relationship stems from two (or more) souls gathered together holding common bonds and beliefs. And Jesus promises, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” What powerful assurance of presence and understanding, because He lived human grief and walks beside and inside us with our own. A threefold cord is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes 4:12).

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow; And ne’er a word spoke she; But oh! The things I learned from her, When Sorrow walked with me -Robert Browning Hamilton

Lament suggests association with a conclusion, an ending of a relationship, a chapter of lived experiences that remains in the past. Curiously, a New Beginning opens that holds opportunities in her hands for engaging others with a depth only accessible through empathy-plus-kind-of-understanding.

Prayer

Keeper of our souls, You break when we break and cry the tears we cry. When the unspeakable consumes us, You groan with knowing compassion. You live our celebrations and our heartbreak. Thank You for providing understanding comfort. Amen.

2 Corinthians 1:3-7

3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. 6 If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. 7 And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

Reflection:

Last summer I read The Nine Essential Things I’ve Learned About Life by Rabbi Harold Kushner. Many of the concepts in the book resonated with me, but one in particular stood out: the idea that God does not send suffering our way, but instead provides the strength we need to face the challenges and tragedies we encounter. That perspective has stayed with me, and I find it especially meaningful when reading Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 1:3–7.

In this passage, Paul describes God as “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,” who comforts us in all our troubles. I would make the stretch here that the word comfort can also be understood as spiritual strength. Paul is not speaking of a shallow reassurance or temporary relief, but of a deep, sustaining encouragement that comes from God Himself. With that understanding, the passage takes on even greater depth: God strengthens us spiritually in the midst of our afflictions so that we, in turn, may be able to strengthen and encourage others who walk through similar hardships.

Obviously, it would be great if there was no suffering, no pain, no trials. But, that’s just not our reality. How blessed are we though, that our comfort abounds in Christ? That God gives us the spiritual strength to not only face our challenges, but to then share that strength and comfort with those around us who are experiencing similar things? By offering us spiritual resilience and hope, we not only endure, but we grow. And in that process, our challenges can actually become sources of compassion to others.

The more I read these verses in preparation for writing this, the more I began to see suffering differently. Instead of asking only how I can escape hardship, I am invited to ask how God might use it. Rather than questioning why I am facing the struggles I am, I can view it as an opportunity that is preparing me to walk alongside others. This perspective is definitely easier to appreciate or hold onto during times of peace, but I can turn to Paul’s letters during my struggles to remind myself that the comfort I receive from Christ is not meant to stop with me. It is meant to overflow, creating a community marked by empathy, strength, and shared hope.

Prayer:

God, thank you for the strength you give us to endure our challenges and suffering. Thank you for being our refuge and comfort in times of trouble. As we turn to you and grow through our hardships, shape our hearts to reflect your compassion. Help us to encourage, uplift, and comfort others as they walk through their own battles. May we be vessels of the same grace you so freely give to us. Amen.

John 11:17-36

17 When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. 18 Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, 19 and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. 20 When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. 21 Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 22 But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” 23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, 26 and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” 27 She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

28 When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” 29 And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. 30 Now Jesus had not yet come to the village but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31 The Jews who were with her in the house consoling her saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32 When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33 When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. 34 He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to weep. 36 So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

Reflection:

We look around at all those around us, and it’s quite easy to remember that while we are all created in God’s image, we are all uniquely made. We look different, offer different gifts, have different experiences, etc. But, we often believe that ministry is one size fits all, that the way God speaks to you is the same way He speaks to me. I remember hearing testimonies on retreats and mission trips about incredible encounters with God, but leaving wondering, “If I haven’t experienced that, have I truly experienced God to the same extent?”

The stories of Mary and Martha remind us that God is a unique God and meets us where we are, according to who we are. In Luke 10:38-42, we’re first introduced to the two sisters: Martha, the distracted doer, and Mary, the present listener. Fast forward a chapter and the sisters meet Jesus again, this time after their brother, Lazarus, has died. For Martha, the take-charge sister, Jesus engages with her on a theological, matter-of-fact level. But for Mary, weeping and overcome with sadness, Jesus offers sympathy and compassion. Both have undergone the same trial, but Christ ministers to them differently.

Looking back on struggles in my life, I don’t recall God speaking to me with doctrine like with Martha or by weeping next to me like with Mary, but instead through my community. God knows me and knows I learn from the counsel of those who He’s surrounded me with, and that’s where I see Him working time and time again.

Christ knows us and He knows our hearts. He ministers and teaches each of us, recognizing we are each His unique creation. And if we are called to be like Christ, we should strive to do the same for all those around us.

Prayer:

Lord, Thank you for your love that isn’t one-size-fits-all. In times of trial, help us listen to the ways you’re speaking and teaching us individually. As we look to others, we pray for your discernment and wisdom to love each individual the way you would.

Romans 8:18-27

18 I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God, 20 for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its enslavement to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labor, 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what one already sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with groanings too deep for words. 27 And God, who searches hearts, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Reflection:

Pregnancy was my first big reality check in life that I was not in control … and I like control. It’s so satisfying to choose a goal and then to flesh it out and execute it with a well-organized team, well-communicated timeline, and triple-checked resources. But for me, pregnancy and childbirth didn’t happen that way. I can remember the aches and pains, how much effort it took just to move, and how frequently I had to visit the “facilities” in the ninth month. I remember exhaustion and intermittent pains that came and went, each set seizing my attention as I wondered, “Is it time?” I did my part to prepare. My bags were packed, and I tried every trick I could find to start labor. I whispered encouragingly to the little one inside me, “You can come any time!” But it became frustratingly apparent that I was not the one calling the shots.

Exhausted from a day of contractions but still not sure they were “real,” Kyle and I finally decided to grab our bags and drive to the hospital and find out. It was clear that this baby was in control of my body, and that he or she had worn down all of my planning and force of will. At St. Joseph’s, the hospital staff assured us it was really time, and I felt so relieved to be with professionals who could surely speed this process along. But the hours of labor continued, I had no words left to plead with God, and Kyle was running low on encouraging labor-coach talk. Yet in time, as the sun rose, a tiny baby girl entered the world without incident. I lay back, spent and still, finally at peace, and Kyle and I marveled at what God had done.

Our world feels like it’s in the grip of labor. As Christians, we remind ourselves that God is good and God is in control. We feel a wave of pain at a natural disaster, then a lull of complacency, followed by the next wave of pain at a current event. In earnest prayer, we cry out to God for mercy, for change, for relief. We find ways to volunteer, give, and help. But the news cycle plods relentlessly on, one stabbing pain followed by the next, and weariness displaces the energy in our efforts. The news cycle seems to gain in frequency and intensity like labor, and all that we have left are groans … and we don’t even really know what they mean.

But the Holy Spirit, graciously given by Jesus, takes these groans in their raw eloquence and lays them at the feet of our Father, who treasures each one. And somehow, in the fullness of time, with a shocking lack of control on our part, our Father is weaving them all together in harmony with His own will, to bring about something more indescribably wonderful than we can imagine. This is our hope.

Prayer:

Our Father, take these groans of lament and use them for Your ultimate glory. Amen.

Isaiah 40:27-31

27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and assert, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? 28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. 29 He gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless. 30 Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted, 31 but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Reflection:

This year, I have returned to being a teacher, reflecting now and then on how education forms us.

My twelfth-grade students are working on their senior thesis projects. For some of them, it is quite daunting to search for data, facts, insights, and wisdom. Others, in contrast, are sure that all such tasks are truly and easily completed with applications of Artificial Intelligence. We’re still sorting out the evolving ethics and fruitful applications of AI—the large language arrays can put many words together, and sometimes they are useful words. But this process does not always truly put wisdom into the hearts and minds of the students, and whatever is in their computers doesn’t matter to me. Isaiah 40:28 tells us that God’s understanding is ‘unsearchable,’ and so far no one seems willing to claim otherwise. We just don’t have computers up to that task of communicating with our God, and if a computer claimed such a power, would we ever trust it?

This is where I remind the students that, along with baptismal promises, God gives us a superpower—prayer. To us, God is still unsearchable, but God is always listening, abiding, and trustworthy. Research also ought to begin with prayer, because with God, all things are possible.

There is an inscription on a statue of an Eagle and Fledglings at my college that says “Man’s flight through life is sustained by the power of his knowledge.” When we come to trust in God, that is the more powerful knowledge. It is eternal, and free of ‘clanker’ hallucinations. My students taught me that term. Perhaps I can get them to also consider “AI” as ‘Academic Integrity,’ something that is truly formational. Ours is a congregation planted in the midst of many students, and we should pray now and then that the students and academics all around us are truly being formed by God’s almighty hand. Blessings to you this Lent and Easter.

Prayer:

God, in this age and in every age, please guide us out of our hubris, faithlessness, and forgetfulness, to search first for you, in all times and in all places. Amen.

2 Peter 3:8-15

8 But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. 9 The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. Instead He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

10 But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. 11 Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives 12 as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. 13 But in keeping with His promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. 14 So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with Him. 15 Bear in mind that our Lord’s patience means salvation, just as our dear brother Paul also wrote you with the wisdom that God gave him.

Reflection:

“With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.”

Peter writes these words to believers waiting for Christ’s return, wondering why it feels delayed. Into their impatience he offers hope: God does not experience time like we do. What feels slow to us, really isn’t slowness at all. “The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise...but is patient with you” (v.9). Yet Peter does more than reassure, he challenges: “What kind of people ought you to be?” Pushing us to realize waiting is not passive. It is formative.

Lent invites us into a kind of waiting. It is a purposeful season of surrender that invites us to build new rhythms, release old habits, and shape our lives around God. Peter reframes this season of waiting as mercy from God. The time we are given is not empty; it is purposeful. It is an opportunity for repentance, growth, and transformation through Christ.

I felt this recently while rushing through an airport, trying to get home sooner. Even if we caught the earlier flight, our final arrival time would not change. The rushing wouldn’t actually get us home faster; it would only add stress. I realized how often I do that with God. I rush the process, desiring the outcome without embracing the preparation.

That is what Lent offers us: preparation. This slow journey towards the cross shapes our hearts to receive Easter. In a world of instant gratification, Lent is a holy interruption. It teaches us that transformation is rarely dramatic or overnight. It is a steady surrender, daily faithfulness, being formed by God’s Word rather than the world.

And here is the grace: God is not waiting for you to become someone new before He draws near and is already near. When Peter calls us to “make every effort,” it is not to earn love but to respond to it. Our striving is not about securing His presence; it is about opening our hearts to the One who is already there.

If this Lenten season has not gone as you imagined, have hope! Lent is not about perfection but presence—it’s about positioning your heart to receive God’s grace. Every small prayer, every decision towards God, every moment spent, every act of surrender matters more than you can see.

We are formed by what we consistently give our time to. Stay with God. Trust His pace, lean into His patience, and dwell in the peace that only comes from being with Him. These forty days are leading us toward resurrection, toward renewal, and toward new life. Slowly and faithfully, God is shaping hearts that trust Him more deeply than before.

Formation takes time. And in God’s hands, time is never wasted.

Prayer:

Awesome God, Teach me to trust Your timing and to rest in Your patient love, knowing that You are forming me even when I cannot see it. Help me to give You my time, surrender my heart, and walk faithfully toward the new life You are preparing in me. Amen.

Ecclesiastes 3:1–8

1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: 2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

Reflection:

The verses of Ecclesiastes 3 are likely familiar for many of us. These 28 “time tos” almost feel like a tick-tock of creation’s clock, as regular as the cycle of the moon. These verses measure off for us contrasting seasons of grief and joy, abundance and scarcity, life and death. As we read through the verses, we can probably pinpoint different phases of our own lives that mirror what was written so long ago. At times I am troubled by these verses and the questions that can quickly bubble up about the nature of suffering. However, I also find great comfort in these verses, particularly in times of hardship and mourning, in knowing that none of this is a surprise to God.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the verse reminding us that there will be a “time for embracing and a time to refrain from embracing” had never felt more true for me. Following those long months (years!) of stress, grief, and social distancing, singer/songwriter Emily Scott Robinson wrote a song called A Time for Flowers. Her song speaks of meeting a woman who was sowing wildflower seeds and asking her, “What is the point when the world is burning?” The woman shares her wisdom that “the time for flowers will come again, maybe in one year, maybe in ten. There are days, despair will win, but the time for flowers will come again.” This is a song I have returned to time and time again as a reminder that whether the days of darkness are in my own limited circle or are from global suffering, God is present and faithful.

Often in the midst of suffering or grief, well-intentioned family or friends might say things like, “this too shall pass.” While this phrase may seem to line up well with the spirit of Ecclesiastes 3, it can certainly come across as a trite response that doesn’t match the very real pain we experience. There is a powerful meaning we can take from this list of life’s rhythms as an alternative to simply waiting for a phase to pass. Suffering, grief, loss, and hate are all part of the expected human experience BUT, so are love, laughter, dancing, and peace. God shows and tells us that these can both be true. When we can remind ourselves of the balance of this complicated, messy life with the beauty and joy that has come before and will come again, we can lean into days of darkness with hope for times of light.

Prayer:

Lord, help us to notice the rhythms of life and find comfort in your faithful presence as we walk through dark days. Let us find calm in the chaos, comfort in the uncertainty, and light in the darkness. May we know that we are not alone. Amen.

Genesis 1:1-5

1 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. 2 The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. 3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Reflection:

Graduations, birthdays, anniversaries…the milestones of life: we all anticipate them and love them (well…most of them!) I remember an old Western film which used the line, “We live between the two eternities…” In Genesis 1, God made more than our physical world; He literally created time itself and our three-fold understanding of it: past, present, and future. You can probably name several scriptures off the top of your head that place a biblical event not just in a specific place but also in a specific time. Time is important. After the creation process was finished, God rested on the seventh day and created for us the Sabbath so that our week could have a time sequence, a rhythm. Moreover, you don’t have to be in church very long to realize there is a rhythm in the time of the church year as well. We move through the seasons of Advent, Christmas, and now, Lent. In the book, Introduction to Christian Worship, author James White says, “Christians use time as a language through which to speak in worship.” One of my pastor friends from long ago gave a sermon where he talked about the rhythms of worship and encouraged the congregation to “rehearse and remember.”

In our time right now, this Lent of 2026, what is God calling you and me to “rehearse and remember”? Perhaps it's to rehearse the acts of justice, mercy and walking in humility. Perhaps it’s to remember once again the sacrifice that was made for us thousands of years ago by a Savior willing to place the salvation needs of the world before himself. Let us use these precious minutes, hours and days given to us to mark the time of Lent and rehearse acts of faithfulness and remember a Lord who loves us deeply and cares for us eternally.

Prayer:

Gracious God and heavenly Father, thank you for the time you have given to me this day. May I use it well and in all that I say and all that I do, may I bring honor and glory to your name. I pray this prayer through the name of your blessed and holy son, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

We love because He first loved us.

Reflection

When I look back over the years—the dreams (I kept a dream journal for about 7 years and recently, I’ve been analyzing them), the questions, the wrestling, the writing, the searching—one word rises above the rest: formed.

For a long time, I thought my spiritual life was something I had to construct and control, something to understand correctly. But most recently, through past dreams both gentle and unsettling, God has opened my eyes to a different pattern: I was not building my life with God; I was being formed by the Triune God.

In one dream, I was a small child going to see my father at his blacksmith shop. I carried nothing but an egg, fragile and unfinished. I did not go to perform but because I belonged. He leaned down and welcomed me.

That is where formation begins.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19) This is prevenient grace.

God’s love came before obedience, before repentance, and before any effort I could put forth.

Other dreams carried me into weakness. I was an old, helpless man in jail. Yet a voice rose within me, strong and not my own, like it was with Jerimiah. I learned that formation does not happen through strength.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Lent reminds us that God shapes us most deeply where we are not in control.

In another dream, breath moved through a flute and music appeared. When the breath stopped, the music faded. I was not the source. I was the instrument.

Formation is learning to yield to the breath, a form of justifying grace.

There were darker passages too—underground rivers, uncertain roads, prophetic callings I would rather have avoided. I could not see the outcome. I could only trust.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart.” (Proverbs 3:5)

Formation often feels like surrender.

Over time, identity itself was shaped — strength softened by gentleness, solitude refined into wisdom. Not forced. Not commanded.

“For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son.” (Romans 8:29)

Conformed. Formed.

This Lent, I no longer ask, “How can I improve myself?” I ask, “Where is the Triune God forming me?” Now, I can see how God has been forming me all along. Covenant is not a contract I maintain through effort; it is the steady, patient work of God shaping a life from the inside out, sanctifying grace. My part is to keep on keeping on.

Before I understood it, before I named it, before I surrendered to it, I was already being formed. And so are you.

Prayer:

Gracious God, You have been with us through it all, whispering your grace into our lives. Give us the ears to hear you so that we can cherish the love you pour over us. Amen.

Exodus 17:1-7

From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. 2 The people quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” 3 But the people thirsted there for water, and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” 4 So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do for this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” 5 The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile and go. 6 I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. 7 He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Reflection:

As Christians, we do our best to follow God, don’t we? I believe we truly do, even though imperfectly. With this thought an important question arises: What do we expect when we follow God? Do we expect things to go well? To be smooth and comfortable?

What happens when we live prayerfully, following what we discern to be God’s will for our lives, and everything falls apart? What do we do with that? And how does this affect our relationship with God?

In Exodus 17, the Israelites do what is asked of them, only to be led straight into suffering. Can you imagine being in the desert with no water? The thirst must have been unbearable. The Israelites experienced this and then did what most of us would do…. complain. Along with their complaining, I am also confident they felt confused and disappointed in how life was treating them as they followed God’s lead.

I recall a season in my own life when my husband and I followed what we prayerfully discerned to be God’s will for our family—a move to College Station. We were excited, confident that God was leading us in the right direction. Yet, much like the Israelites, we encountered hardship after hardship. Almost nothing about the move went smoothly and the struggle lasted not just for months, but for two to three years.

Days came and went where we felt deep discouragement, with the sense that things were never going to be right again. However during that time I always felt confident that the Lord was with us, and I learned so much about what it means to truly trust God, even when life is not what you expected or hoped for. I wonder if the Israelites felt much the same way.

Following God does not guarantee a smooth path but what it does promise is that you will never be alone and without hope. God proved this to the Israelites and he proved it to me as it eventually became clear that the move to College Station was exactly right.

One of the beautiful aspects of Exodus 17:1-7 is the way God responded compassionately to His suffering, complaining people. Did God become angry and punish them? No! He gave them what they needed through the display of His mighty power. This is a beautiful reminder that God can handle the discouragement and disappointment that comes with suffering. He not only guides us on our path, He never leaves us.

Let us give thanks today because God leads His people though hardships with gentle compassion. This is a God worthy of our love, our trust and our faithful following.

Peace be with you.

Prayer:

Most Holy God, give us the confidence to trust in your ways always. Remind us in the days filled with deep discouragement that Jesus Christ walks with each child hand in hand. For this and all things we are grateful. Amen.

Amos 8:11-12

The time is surely coming, says the Lord GOD, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the LORD. 12 They shall wander from sea to sea, and from north to east; they shall run to and fro, seeking the word of the LORD, but they shall not find it. Reflection:

So much success in life is found by applying the good lessons we learn. We learn that delaying work on a project to the last minute is problematic, we learn that saving for a rainy day is prudent, and we learn that listening when instructions are being given can save us trouble. Many times, the lessons come from our own experience, but if we pay attention, most—if not all— of the important lessons we need in life can be gleaned from the instruction and wisdom of others. Whether from voices of the present or the words of the past, there is great opportunity to learn from such wisdom. As Plutarch Heavensbee said in reference to his library, “It’s a shame. Everything you need to know about people is right here in this room.”

As Christians we are fortunate to have our great library of wisdom conveniently condensed into a single book. As Rev. Lance Richards told the third-graders receiving their Bibles in early February, this library of holy books contains history, poetry, letters, and, in the case of Amos, prophetic words from the past that still speak to us today. Now Amos, like most prophets of ancient Israel, was not very successful in seeing his words set the people back on the right path. Amos’ message of the Lord favoring justice and mercy over pageantry and performance were unheeded by the Northern Kingdom, and sadly, he leaves the people with a warning that the day will come when there will be a withdrawal of the Lord’s word. Worse than a famine, the Lord’s instruction and wisdom will not be found when it is needed most. The people will come to realize how something is missing; something is needed, yet their search will be in vain.

“Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near” (Isaiah 55:6).

The Season of Lent is intended for serious reflection and serious assessment of our lives. While we can all seek after the Lord in times of crisis, can we benefit from wisdom and instruction without an imminent threat? Can we learn the lesson before it is needed? As Christians, the wisdom of the Lord has been made clear to us in Christ Jesus. Jesus, the Bread of Life, who feeds us that we may no longer hunger. Jesus, who sustains us, that we may no longer thirst. So as the Word of the Lord is speaking, are we listening?

Prayer:

Gracious Lord, we thank you for the prophetic words both of the past and the present. Grant us grace and courage of heart to listen without fear and to apply your divine wisdom without reservation. May the Word of the Lord sustain us in all things. Amen.

Psalm 42, John 15:27

1“As A deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. 2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? 3 My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, “Where is your God?” 4 These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival. 5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help 6 and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. 7 Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me. 8 By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. 9 I say to God, my rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?” 10 As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me continually, “Where is your God?” 11 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.”

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

Reflection:

Psalm 42 and John 14:27 have spoken loudly to me since I first read them or heard them. I don’t know which came first. I read these lines and feel them in my soul. “As a deer longs for the flowing stream, so my soul longs for you, O God… Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God” (vv. 1, 11b), and “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (John 14:27). When I read those words from John 14 I understand what I long for and have been longing for all my life. I long for the peace Jesus left us with.

I have been really distraught thinking about all the upheavals going on in our country, maybe because it seems like there are no standards of behavior or conscience. There is no peace to be found. Two images popped into my head earlier this month, from where I don’t know. The first image is one of an empty square box, made by black metal rods joined at the four corners. There are more than two rods joined together to make each side of the box. I see each of those sections as a different set of rules. I live within those rules. Those are the parameters of my life. I know how to live in that box.

In the second image, all the sections are knocked out of alignment, with only a ball of light remaining in the center. So what is that supposed to mean? How do I live with no rules? I’m choosing to believe that the ball of glowing light is the God my soul longs for and the peace that Jesus left with us.

My early life was not peaceful, so all my life I’ve lived by the rules, whatever the rules were for that situation, whether rules of my parents, friends, society, government, civility, or the Lord. But what if that box is not made of the rules as I had originally thought? Maybe each side of the box represents different fruits of the spirit like love, truth, joy, peace, honesty, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness that we are designed to live with and now they’ve all been knocked awry. Maybe so, but the Light bringing peace is still in the center and that Light from Jesus still shows us how to live with kindness and love.

Prayer:

Dear Lord of Light, thank you for showing us how to live. Thank you for bringing your peace. Please help us to see that it is within us as you are. Amen.

John 4:5-26

5 So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. 7 A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” 8 (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” 11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? 12 Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” 13 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” 15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” 17 The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband,’ 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” 19 The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. 20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 But the hour is coming and is now here when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” 25 The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

Reflection:

The story of Jesus and the woman at the well is a passage that almost all “church people” know. It is one of the classics, like the “Loaves and Fishes” or “The Good Samaritan.” We’ve heard them taught in Sunday School and preached in sermons many times.

Growing up, I learned and understood this passage from a certain angle; it was an encounter between Jesus and a lowly woman—lowly because of her ethnicity, her gender and her past. When I read the red letters of the dialogue, I imagined Jesus’s tone to be aloof and critical, as if he was scolding her when he says “You are right; you have no husband….”

But I will never forget when I heard a teaching on this passage a few years ago, and it changed my entire perspective on the story. In fact, I think it changed my perspective on Jesus.

When you consider the context of marriage and divorce during Jesus’s time, you start to understand that this woman was a commodity to be traded. Most likely, she had no choice in the marrying or the divorcing of her husbands. And for whatever reason, this poor soul had apparently been rejected by man after man.

Now imagine how used she must have felt. Imagine how worthless she must have perceived herself to be. Imagine how hungry she must have been for love. For unconditional acceptance. For security and stability.

With this new perspective, I began to hear Jesus’s voice in a completely different tone, in a tone of compassion, instead of condemnation. I heard his words as empathetic exasperation on her behalf, not jarring judgment. He was not listing out a shameful past, instead he was saying, “I see you. I see your pain.”

After he communicates that he knows who she is, he tells her who he is. Jesus presents himself as the Living Water, the only water that can satisfy her needs. He offers her true hope, when he proclaims “I am He,” the Messiah.

He is the same today, for us. Jesus sees our pain. He sees our needs, and our hunger for unconditional love and eternal security. And He offers us himself, our Messiah.

Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank you for being a God who sees us. We are so desperate for your love. Thank you that we are fully known by you, AND fully loved by you–Loved Unconditionally! Thank you for satisfying and fulfilling our greatest needs. We love you.

John 6:22-25

The next day the crowd that had stayed on the other side of the sea saw that there had been only one boat there. They also saw that Jesus had not gotten into the boat with his disciples but that his disciples had gone away alone. 23 But some boats from Tiberias came near the place where they had eaten the bread after the Lord had given thanks. 24 So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus.

25 When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?”

Reflection:

If you’re like me in troubled times, you may catch yourself treating God like a vending machine, trying to get what you want or need. Just like the crowd searching for Jesus.

What did they want? We see a crowd scanning the shoreline, crossing the lake, and pursuing Jesus—hungry and searching. Jesus fed them miraculously the day before, but their hunger returned. They wanted another meal, the feeling of being filled. They wanted yesterday’s miracle repeated today, chasing the gift, not the Giver.

Their motives are familiar to us. We often come wanting relief, clarity, provision, or breakthrough. Jesus meets them with a gentle statement: “you want to be with me because I fed you, not because you understood the miraculous signs.”

Jesus helps point them to their deeper longing beneath the surface. Beneath provision is security. Beneath healing is wholeness. Beneath relief is peace. Our needs point to Him.

Jesus meets us where we are but doesn’t leave us there, tackling our longings at the root. They came for bread; He offers Himself. He sees their needs and redirects them, saying, “You’re hungry for something real and chasing something that won’t last. Let me give you something better.” This is His kindness: receiving imperfect motives and leading us toward our true desire.

In these final two weeks of Lent, let us ask ourselves these questions:

What hunger keeps pulling me back to God?

Am I seeking His presence, or His provision?

What deeper need is beneath my longing?

As we notice our desires, remember Jesus meets us and says, “Come to Me.”

Prayer

Jesus, You know the motives of my heart. Thank You for receiving me when my motives are mixed. Deepen my hunger for You—not just what You give, but who You are.

Matt 28:20 (NASB)

“… and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Reflection:

On a September morning in 2022, I found myself in the unenviable position of talking to God as I anxiously sat in the waiting room of St. Joseph Hospital. My husband, Jay’s, iron levels were critically low. As he underwent further testing somewhere on the other side of that waiting room wall, I was hoping against hope that he had a stomach ulcer. Deep down, though, I knew it was colon cancer. And I was right. Heavily influenced by Leslie D. Weatherhead’s classic The Will of God, I had, years before, shifted the nature of my prayers away from specific outcomes, requesting instead for God to walk beside me, bringing me the peace, comfort and strength required to take on whatever might lie ahead. While that prayer mentality might not be for everyone, for me, it was a significant step in my Christian formation. Ultimately, this change in the way I talked to God would play a major role in a multi-year chapter of seemingly endless challenges and heartbreaks.

In 2019, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Although typically one of the easiest types to cure, his was particularly aggressive. Oncologists repeatedly tried new treatments, each with high expectations of success. But instead of healing, I watched my strong, determined dad waste away.

A year later, health issues forced a move of Jay’s parents from Plano to an assisted living facility in Bryan. Their move coincided with the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. Quarantined to their room, a traumatic (and unwanted) transition was made even worse. But God’s hand supported all of us. Once Jay’s dad was in better physical shape, we moved them into a patio home down the street. I took on a new role as their part-time nurse and taxi driver.

In 2021, Jay and I lost our dads less than three months apart. In the process, I learned far too much about cancer, Hospice, and the perpetual stream of red tape and paperwork intrinsic to the business of dying. I became the primary caregiver of two devastated widows, each of whom was set adrift without their partners of 56 years.

During this same period, a cousin whom I had helped get into rehab (but refused to stay) died of a drug overdose; a friend who had seemingly beat cancer died of its recurrence; and another dear friend who had, for years, prepared for a new heart experienced a successful transplant, only to have received a defective organ. All three were in their fifties.

Over and over again, I yearned to see the healing hand of God, only to be disappointed. Unfortunately, that’s part of the human experience. But never once did I feel that God had dese

rted me. The strength, calm, and clarity that I experienced in the midst of grief and overwhelming stress were traits I needed to care for others. It was there that God provided for me in abundance. I don’t remember my exact conversation with God as I waited for Jay’s results, but I do remember saying, “Lord, this is a lot.” Of course, He already knew that. Had I measured God’s faithfulness by favorable outcomes (meaning the outcomes I wanted), the years preceding Jay’s diagnosis would have undoubtedly shaken my confidence in God’s very existence. Instead, throughout Jay’s complicated surgery, chemotherapy and eventual recovery, I felt God’s familiar presence with me every step of the way, keeping me steady in the face of uncertainty.

In Matthew, Jesus promises that “I am with you always.” That promise is my rock.

Prayer:

Lord, the seemingly insurmountable challenges we will all inevitably face are far too great to tackle on our own. You have promised to be with us always; remind us that when we lean into that promise, we will never be alone. Amen.

16 One day as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a female slave who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. 17 While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” 18 She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour.

19 But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. 20 When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, “These men, these Jews, are disturbing our city 21 and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us, being Romans, to adopt or observe.” 22 The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. 23 After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. 24 Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.

25 About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. 26 Suddenly there was an earthquake so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. 27 When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. 28 But Paul shouted in a loud voice, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” 29 The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. 30 Then he brought them outside and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” 31 They answered, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” 32 They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. 33 At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. 34 He brought them up into the house and set food before them, and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God.

Reflection:

I am drawn to the story of Paul and Silas casting a demon out of a young, enslaved girl, costing her enslavers running a fortune-telling business to lose profits. Both Paul and Silas were then publicly beaten, arrested, and thrown in prison. Yet, through this uncontrollable and terrifying situation, their response was to pray and sing hymns to God. Miraculously, an earthquake then broke open the doors of the prison and their chains fell off! When the jailor awoke and saw what had happened, he assumed that Paul and Silas had escaped. “It would be better for me to die,” he thought. But Paul quickly called out to the jailor, who then fell before them and asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” The jailor and his family were then baptized and transformed by the love of God.

The story of Paul and Silas tells us something we know all too well: we are not in control of our circumstances. This is hard to come to terms with, as it can often feel as if we are the ones in control. Paul and Silas teach us that through the uncontrollable, we are able to find God even in the darkest of places.

It is easy to view the earthquake and broken chains as the main miracle. The focus of this passage, however, is not how Paul and Silas were freed from prison but rather that they chose to stay with the jailor. Jailors were held personally responsible for their prisoners, so if they had left, the jailor would have been severely punished. It was not the earthquake that led to the jailor's conversion but the love of Paul and Silas that led them to stay and minister to their captor.

We (or, at least, I) often pray that God will change our circumstances, that he will knock down the doors and break the chains. While praying for deliverance is good, I wonder how God could form us if we prayed not just to be delivered from the prison cell, but also that our eyes would be opened to more clearly see the way God is already with us in the prison cell. We are not promised that God will change our circumstances, but we are promised that God will be with us. We just have to open our eyes to see Him. Paul and Silas seemed to know that, whether bound or free, God would not abandon them. I pray that we would know that too.

Prayer:

Lord, help us to see you in both the peaks and the valleys and to truly know that you will never forsake us. When we feel the weight of uncontrollable situations, help us remember that we are formed through testing to reflect Christ. Thank you, Lord, for your promise to be with us and carry our burdens.

Isaiah 41:10

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

1 Peter 1:6-7

So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day

Reflection:

Not all tests are the same. Some come loudly and suddenly, like a summer storm that wakes us from sleep. Others arrive slowly, quietly stretching our patience, our hope, and our endurance until we feel we’re at our limit. But every test carries the same invitation: not to be fearless, but to form our faith.

Fear, doubt, and anxiety are often treated as signs of weak faith, but Jesus himself felt them. He sweat blood in the garden. He cried out in anguish on the cross. He begged His cup be taken from him. At no point did He deny the reality of fear; instead, He walked faithfully through it. Jesus does not ask us to be fearless. He asks us to be courageous. And courage, by definition, can only exist when fear is present.

In testing, I often find myself wishing I had more: more patience, more joy, more courage, more faith. But Scripture reminds us that God does not ask us to bring an abundance; He asks us to bring honesty and a mustard seed. When I come to Him with what feels insufficient, I discover that His supply is not.

When I have little patience, He has an abundance.

When I have little joy, He has an abundance.

When I have little courage, He has an abundance.

Testing exposes our limits, but it also reveals God’s nearness. Even when I have tried to distance myself, He has never left me, even for a moment. Testing does not signal His absence; often, it is the place where He is most at work.

Faith is not destroyed by testing; it’s refined by it. Like gold, faith can be buried, but then it is found and subjected to fire and pressure. But the fire does not create the gold; it reveals it. What remains is not something new, but something truer, purer, and more beautiful than before.

When testing comes, we do not have to manufacture courage from nothing. We lean into the One who already has more than enough. In the fire, in the fear, in the waiting, God is at work. He forms us not into people who never tremble, but into people who trust Him even when we do.

Prayer:

Lord, you are the God that never leaves, even when I distance myself. I pray that when I have little, you remind me of your abundance. When testing comes, help me to be courageous and steadfastly forge my faith.

Psalm 139:23-24

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts; see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

Reflection:

“It was hard to do, but I quit cutting hair and looked at Troy. I said, ‘Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you.’ Troy jerked his head up and widened his eyes at me. ‘Where did you get that crap?’ I said, ‘Jesus Christ.’ And Troy said, ‘Oh.’ It would have been a great moment in the history of Christianity, except that I did not love Troy.” —Jayber Crow, from the novel Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry

“It would have been a great moment in the history of Christianity, except that I _____ (fill in the blank for yourself).”

Ugh.

There is something painfully familiar about that test.

Perhaps, you feel it too.

In Wendell Berry’s novel, Jayber is the town barber, grave-digger, and church custodian, a quiet witness to life and loss. In his barbershop, Troy, selfish and brash, rants about the war, and Jayber interrupts him with Christ’s command to love our enemies. The words are true. The timing feels fitting. Yet, Jayber knows his response might have served God, had it not been meant to sting.

So who all is harmed when Jayber fails his test? More than we realize.

Troy is hardened rather than changed. Troy’s kind-hearted wife sees nothing in him move toward goodness. Jayber feels the pain of speaking Christ’s words without Christ’s heart. Even God’s image is distorted when his Word is used to shame another.

Lent draws us into examining our moments of testing, our “it would have been a great moment in the history of Christianity, except that I …” memories.

Who has been collateral damage in our failed tests?

How have we misrepresented God or his Word?

Have we said or done the right thing with a wrong heart?

Psalm 139:23–24 offers us a way forward:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts; see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

To pray, “Search me,” is to let the hand of God pass over our thinking, choosing, speaking, and feeling to mercifully show us where we missed the mark. Honestly faced, our nearly faithful moments can move from tests to holy teachers because of God’s great kindness. Lent invites us to place our ordinary moments under God’s searching gaze so the heart behind our thoughts, words, and deeds can be revealed. Even our smallest failures are not wasted, but redeemed as He leads us in the way everlasting.

Breath Prayer:

Inhale: Search me, O God

Exhale: Lead me in the way everlasting

Amen.

John 13:1-17

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 2 The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ 7 Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ 8 Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ 9 Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ 10 Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ 11 For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’ 12 After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16 Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17 If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

Reflection:

I’ve been to more than my fair share of funerals. I suppose it’s a hazard of marrying someone who works in a church—you end up knowing and caring for a lot of people. It’s a privilege to love people, and even more so to walk alongside them in their grief and share some of the burden on what may end up being one of the worst days of their lives.

For me personally, funerals have the effect of being a reality check. I think we’d all like people to say nice things about us, and to leave some positive impact that lasts beyond our time here. So inevitably, I return home to my girls, say yes to their pleas for more playtime or dessert and try extra hard not to lose my cool at bedtime. After all, the small moments seem to count more when we think about our mortality.

I love Holy Week because it so beautifully leads us through Jesus’ final days. Easter is great, obviously. But Easter without the strife and grief of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday ends up feeling more like a birthday party than a celebration that what we thought was dead is truly alive. So as I read John 13 and entered into the familiar story of the foot washing, what struck me wasn’t so much Jesus’ act, but rather the reason for it.

Verse 1: Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

We all know that our time here on earth is finite. Maybe you’re one of those blessed souls who doesn’t fear death, but when I think too long about it, my anxiety spikes and, boy, do I find something else to do quickly before the panic attack rears its ugly head. I’m not sure I could handle knowing that my “hour had come to depart from this world.” Jesus, in all his Godly grace and poise, sticks to the basics. Having loved his own, he loved them to the end.

Jesus continues to teach, literally showing them, by washing their feet, what serving and loving look like. He focuses on how they should carry on, not on wordy goodbyes. He gives them the gift of an act of love.

It’s a shame that so many of us rely on those big moments in life to refocus us on what really matters. As frequently as I attend them, I shouldn’t be waiting for a funeral to be reminded that the small moments are the big moments. Not if I want people to say about me what they said about Jesus.

Prayer:

Lord, help us to love like Jesus loved, in the small moments, the big moments, and all the ones in between. Amen.

Matthew 3:11-17

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is more powerful than I, and I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” 13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Reflection:

In the world we live in, power often looks like not having to wait.

It looks like cutting through a cafeteria line while others stand quietly behind you. It looks like fast passes at amusement parks, priority boarding, exclusive access. Privilege is often renamed as success. We are taught, subtly and constantly, that righteousness means being ahead. To be righteous is to move upward without being slowed by those who cannot keep up. The ideal life becomes a life without lines where you never have to stand among the uncertain, the struggling, and the ordinary.

But two thousand years ago, at the Jordan River, there was a line.

Men and women stood together with hearts laid bare. They carried heavy stories, and it was a line of both shame and hope.

And in that line stood Jesus.

When John the Baptist saw Him, he hesitated: “I need to be baptized by you.” But Jesus answered, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.”

And the Son of God stepped into the water. This makes us ask: what does Jesus mean by righteousness?

We often imagine righteousness as something elevated. But at the Jordan River, righteousness moves downward. It descends into the waters of human confession and vulnerability.

Jesus, the one without sin, stands among those confessing sin. The one who needs no repentance stands in a line defined by repentance. He does not wait for humanity to become worthy, looking down from the top of a spiritual hierarchy. He enters the line.

He does not demand urgency or claim exception. The eternal Word of God waits His turn.

In Christ, righteousness looks like love that stands in line.

When the heavens open and the Father declares, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased,” it happens not when Jesus distinguishes Himself from humanity, but when He stands within it.

So instead of becoming people who rise above others, may we become people who stand with them. Instead of seeking a life without waiting, may we remember: where you are waiting is where God is already present.

Prayer:

Father God, Thank you for choosing to stand in line with sinners. Form us for Your Kingdom by shaping our hearts in humility and love. Teach us to wait and stand with others instead of above them, and help us to trust that You are present even in the ordinary places. As You entered the water, make us a people who reflect Your righteousness and love. In the name of Jesus, we pray: Amen.

Isaiah 53:10-12

10 Yet it was the will of God to crush Him; He has put Him to grief; when His soul makes an offering for guilt, He shall see His offspring; He shall prolong His days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in His hand. 11 Out of the anguish of His soul He shall see and be satisfied; by His knowledge shall the righteous One, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and He shall bear their iniquities. 12 Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the many, and He shall divide the spoil with the strong, because He poured out His soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.

Reflection:

Why am I even here?

I’ve asked this question to myself in many different places over the years, whether I’m kept awake at night stressing about the future or sitting in a lecture hall with an impossible exam. The question sits in my mind demanding an answer. It was a sad realization when adults stopped asking me what I want to be when I grow up and instead ask what I will be when I finally graduate. Characters in books and movies have it easy. They seem to know their purpose so clearly, walking through their lives according to the plot and going exactly where they’re supposed to for the story to unfold. Meanwhile I can’t figure out what to eat for dinner, much less what I’m supposed to do with this life on earth. But while the real world doesn’t come with a script, we do get to know the One who is writing the story, and that His plan is far better than we could ever imagine. For it is in this chaos, lament, waiting, hunger, and testing that God forms us for something greater than words could ever tell.

Throughout all of history we can see God calling and equipping His great prophets and apostles, not according to their plans or strength, but according to His will and faithfulness. Abraham had no idea where God would lead him when he left Ur. Amos had no experience or training as a prophet when God called him to prophesy. The disciples were fishermen and tax collectors, not religious leaders, yet God called each of them to be the kingdom-defying believers that shaped our scripture and church. Likewise, we as Christians are called beyond what we know and what we plan toward the Savior who lets us lay all our worries down. God calls and forms His people by the blood of His Son, who knew every part of His own story even as He came here to die. Christ came to earth in humility, heralding a prideless kingdom where we could be made new and have a true purpose in this life.

We were not born for this world; we are being formed for heaven above, for God’s eternal kingdom where we can dwell with Him. Though we may not know the details of God’s plan for each day, we can rest in knowing that we are being formed for a greater kingdom beyond our imagination, a prideless kingdom we could never earn that has been given freely. Through every trial in my life when I couldn’t understand God’s purpose or where He was calling me to go, He called me to rest in the peace that He has a purpose for me better than I could imagine. My only purpose in this life is to glorify God, in whatever form that takes. Though we have strayed from home many times in this life, our God pursued us into death and brought us running back to Him. We don’t need to know the “why” of every part of this life; we just need to remember that we’re here to glorify our Savior and Lord. By the blood of Jesus, we are being formed for His kingdom, for heaven.

As we remember the cross this Easter, let it transform you yet again. Let God continue to form you for your true home, for the very reason you were made, and know that His plan is good even when we can’t understand it yet.

Prayer:

Everlasting Father, thank you for the precious gift of your Son, who pursued us into death and brought us home to you. Thank you for stepping into our hurt and sin to pour out your love in ways we could never deserve. Speak into our hearts again, O Lord, and embolden us to rely more fully on you in every moment that we may reflect the face of Christ to this hurting world. Refine us as gold in the fire, we pray, that we may draw closer to your heart and remember the kingdom you have called us to. Amen.