I am entering into the Lenten wilderness today with some trepidation, sadness and joy. The world is broken. Rev, the cat, is showing signs of decline. A dear friend’s father is in critical condition having suffered a stroke. Writer’s block stresses the already-stressful deadlines on my calendar. The list goes on. Yet amid it all, I hear the birds singing. And don’t laugh, but I know spring will burst with new life soon as last night there was that pungent smell of skunk in the air! The little critters are out and about as the weather begins to warm up ever so slightly.
This Lent is beginning with a strong sense of change on the horizon. I don’t know what that change is, but I’m standing here knowing I need to put just one foot forward in complete faith in God who leads me.
So today I decided to be kind to myself — to be gentle and reevaluate my to-do list. Today I decided to begin this season with a new Lent tradition that centers my spirit and helps me to set my eyes to the hills where the psalmist proclaims our help will come. And I share it with you.
How is your Lenten journey going to begin? Pull up a chair and join me here at the farm.
I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. — John 13:34
Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”— Matthew 28:19–20
I worked in a church that had a stunning stained-glass window of “The Great Commission,” where Jesus, before ascending into heaven, tells his disciples to go out into the world and make more disciples. Next to it was a window depicting another one of Jesus’ marching orders before leaving this world: Love one another, as I have loved you.
I never thought much about how the “command” and “commission” windows were side by side. That is until the day the rural congregation I served became a Matthew 25 church. (Matthew 25 is an invitation to the churches in my denomination, the Presbyterian Church U.S.A., to serve and love boldly as Jesus did.) The educated and well-off session members reviewed the three ministry focuses of the Matthew 25 invitation: building congregational vitality, dismantling structural racism and eradicating systemic poverty. Like many congregations who have seen numbers dwindle dangerously low to the “closing-the-doors” level, they zeroed in on vitality over eradicating poverty and dismantling racism.
All too quickly, building vitality began looking like programming to get people into the pews. My heart broke. I reminded them that Matthew 25 was not a program to save a church. Rather, it’s an invitation to die to self to save others. It’s about boldly living as the body of Christ, and that living begins with loving as Christ loves. “That means loving all the shoppers in the local Walmart that I have heard this congregation talk disparagingly about,” I dared to say.
When Jesus said, “Love one another,” he didn’t want lip service. He wanted love to be shown in our actions that would transform a community — and, thus, the world. We are at the beginning of our Lenten journey. There are still more weeks to tread all the rough and undesirable places Jesus has already gone. But it’s here that we take a spiritual stop to examine our hearts before venturing further. We must be honest and question our commitment to Jesus’ command and commission. “Lord, when did we see you?” we ask. And he will answer, “When you began loving as I have loved, you have seen — truly seen. Now go with that love in your heart and make disciples.”
Pray
All-knowing God, you see how often we speak about love and how rarely we show it. In this season of Lent, help us go beyond words. May the world see your love through our actions. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
Ponder
What are the ways in which love can become a verb as you go about living this day?
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. — Matthew 5:5
I recently came across a study from 2019 that showed the average inheritance for the middle class in the U.S. was about $110,000. I don’t count on such money coming my way anytime soon — or ever. But sometimes I wonder: What if? What would I do with that money?
It doesn’t take long for my daydream windfall to become a greed-ridden nightmare, as I discover my imaginary money isn’t enough for all the wants lurking within. I shudder to think what a real inheritance would bring out in me.
Matthew 25 speaks about inheriting the kingdom. This kingdom, though, is not one that comes in the way of a big check. In fact, there are many congregations with small budgets in the PC(USA) who have said “yes” to becoming Matthew 25 churches. They’re saying “yes” to inheriting a kingdom that will not bolster their wealth, but rather asks them to serve, care and love others selflessly.
Early in his ministry, Jesus spoke to a hungering crowd gathered on a hillside. They were eager to hear a message of hope, and Jesus didn’t let them down by telling them what it really means to be blessed. But his definitions of blessed might have surprised them for there was no mention of material comforts or elevations of status. Among the blessed, Jesus tells them, are the meek. For they will inherit the earth.
Meek isn’t a very flattering adjective to our ears, but in the biblical context it is a compliment. It means that we are willing to surrender all to Jesus and say “yes” to God’s plans. If we are to inherit God’s kingdom, we must see that this kingdom has nothing to do with what money can buy. This kingdom is about what love can build through the work of our hands.
Pray
God of great provision, forgive us for letting the amount of money we have dictate the ministries we can do in your name. The kingdom we inherit from you is in fact this world, with all its challenges and brokenness. This is the kingdom you entrust to us. Give us the wisdom and strength this day to glorify you. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
Ponder
When the word “meek” is used to describe you, how does that make you feel? Now think about how Jesus uses that word. How might it change the way you live this day?
Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” — Matthew 4:8–10
I met Krystle while freelancing for a small-town newspaper. She was young and talented — and the editor of the paper. I was impressed. So, when the need for a freelance editor arose for a project at the national church, I recommended Krystle. She was hesitant as she didn’t know “insider church language.” I assured her that I would answer any questions.
Krystle did have one question about a word she had never heard of before: kin-dom. “Did the writer mean ‘kingdom’?” she asked. When I explained that kin-dom reflected better the mission of the Church, moving away from top-down power and control, which the word “kingdom” evokes, to a more level playing field where there is a kinship — where the silenced have a voice and the overlooked are recognized — she enthusiastically said, “That’s awesome!”
Krystle isn’t much for religion. She jokes that she can’t believe she is friends with me — a pastor. She, like many, have been hurt by worldly kingdoms that have often been protected and perpetuated by organized religion. Yet we in the Church still find ourselves tempted by the power such kingdoms offer. We always seem to be wrestling with our desirous idols.
Lent begins with Jesus being tempted in the wilderness where the promise of earthly kingdoms is dangled in front of him. Jesus, though, is steadfast and resists. We too, need to be steadfast and resist, emerging from our wilderness temptations ready to commit to building more Matthew 25 kin-doms.
“Is ‘kin-dom’ the correct word?” Krystle asked. “It is,” I said. And with that, a child of God, who never thought she was welcomed into the fold, began seeing the door to the kin-dom open to her.
Pray
Loving God, temptations are all around us. The world tells us that those who have the power, those who have the wealth and those who have the prestige are the ones who have it all. But that is not the way of your kingdom. Yours is a kin-dom, where all are welcomed, valued and loved. Help us to become kin-dom builders. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
Ponder
Jesus told his friends that when they did something to help another in need, they were serving him. As you go about your day, think about the decisions you make and the actions you take. Now ask yourself: Is my life reflecting a worldly kingdom or a Matthew 25 kin-dom?
I plan to post entries here on this page from the Lenten devotional I wrote for Presbyterians Today magazine. May these reflections enrich your journey!
Blessings,
Donna
Inheriting the Kingdom
Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”
Matthew 25:34
Ash Wednesday | March 2
Repent and believe
By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. — Genesis 3:19
Growing up, having foreheads smudged with burnt palm ashes was something my Catholic and Anglican friends did. We didn’t do it in the Congregational church of my childhood nor in the Presbyterian church I attended as a teen. Yet I was intrigued by the practice, mostly by how my friends seemed different once they sported smudges that looked more like abstract art rather than the crisp crosses they were meant to be. The brazen was subdued. The bully was quieted. The confident turned uncharacteristically awkward. It was as if suddenly the world could see their frailty. It made me relieved that I didn’t get ashes. I outgrew that relief, and now embrace Ash Wednesday’s somber reminder, echoed in the words from Genesis that accompany the ash crosses: Remember, from dust you come and to dust you return. Remember. We are not our own. We belong to God, and one day we will return to God.
There’s an alternate phrase that can be said when imposing ashes: Repent and believe in the Gospel. I prefer that to the mention of dust, for the “repent” spurs me to reorient my life and take seriously the Gospel’s message of love. And each year, as I feel the grit of the ash against my skin, I think of another cross once placed on our foreheads. The one that made us squirm and squeal as infants: the watery baptismal cross marking us as God’s beloveds. One day, our baptisms will be made complete at the time of our death. Till then, Ash Wednesday comes, reminding us time is slipping by. Inwardly we squirm. Silently we squeal. The smudge is made. The question is asked: When life is over, have I done my best to love as Christ loved?
Pray
Redeeming God, we remember this day the fragility of our lives. We remember that through all our days, we belong to you. May we return to you and learn this Lent to truly love the world you created. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.
Ponder
What would others say about how you have lived your life for Christ? How do you currently show the love of Christ to others? Where can you do better?
What do you need to let go of this Lent? How will you prepare your heart for all that God wants for you? Come to Sofie’s Hill in Vermont and join me as we remember that God is bigger than our little selves — and more forgiving, loving and kind. May we, who have been created in the image of God, reflect that to the world.
Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday, which ushers in the season of Lent, has traditionally been a day of preparation for the 40-day journey to the Easter. That preparation has included presenting one’s self to a priest to confess sins, also known as shriving, thus, the name for the day — Shrove Tuesday. It was also a time to clean out the pantry of flour, eggs, butter and sugar. And what better way to use all these items up than to make pancakes? Join me here at Old Stone Well Farm as we get ready for Lent together. And, yes, it involves pancakes!
accidental country pastor 