Thursday, April 3

By: Rev. Tim Best

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter,

and our tongue with shouts of joy;

then it was said among the nations,

“The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us,

and we rejoiced.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord,

like the watercourses in the Negeb.

May those who sow in tears

reap with shouts of joy.

Those who go out weeping,

bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

carrying their sheaves.

Psalm 126

Restoration and renewal are powerful images. We find inspiration in visualizing dry lands being refreshed by rains and flowing rivers. In times of drought, we are particularly mindful of our need for rain. In the season of planting, we know our need for growth and harvest. Where are the dry places in your life? Where do we need new growth and an abundant harvest? This is the whole point of Lent. Our need is made obvious, and we can speak honestly about the state of our spirits, as we look with anticipation towards Easter.

            As I read the words of Psalm 126, I think about all of the challenges in my own life over the past year. I am reminded of moments of deep sadness and grief, and moments of weariness and despair. I can close my eyes and imagine standing in the pulpit and looking out upon the congregation. I see your faces. I think of the weeping and suffering encountered by so many within our congregation. I think of the grace that enables us to “go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing.” Getting up and doing something in service to God is a great achievement some days. To plant seeds that could grow into hope in the midst of pain is an act of trust.

            Easter doesn’t just come to those able to wear bright emotions and smiles that match the pastel colors of outfits on sale at Belk right now. Easter comes to us in our suffering and sadness. It renews the heavy heart. In the midst of the pain of grief and loss comes the promise of new life, of resurrection. Hope comes to us in our season of need. In the final days of Lent, may God speak words of comfort and words of hope into our lives. May we trust that the God who brought back Jesus from the dead will bring new life to us.

Monday, March 31

By:Pat Bellingrath

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

1 Corinthians 13

As I journey through Lent, I am especially aware of the despair and heartache we are encountering at almost every turn. Anger and sadness have been my constant companions. Using Lent as a time for personal reflection has been difficult for me as I see decisions and policies being made that directly affect my family members, close friends, and those I call sisters and brothers. I was reading a meditation by Diana Butler Bass recently, and she wrote of “loving relentlessly”. My heart has been heavy with a mix of emotions, but I have been thinking of how I might “love relentlessly”. What would that look like for me? I am using my time during Lent to figure out how to love in spite of, in place of, in defiance of. My power will be to love because the power of good and the power of love can be relentless.

Easter awaits us in all its hope and light and beauty. We are the people of God, and so we are the people of love. I will continue to do whatever I can to follow the gospel of Christ and to love my neighbors. I will be a light for others wherever I can. I will be an example of compassion and inclusion, and I will keep my eyes on Jesus. I will put my hands into doing work in small ways: feeding people, supporting others, lifting voices, creating spaces, writing letters, praying for my enemies, holding those who are hurting, reading books to my grandchildren, and singing hymns of praise. I will honor and celebrate those who are Kin-dom builders. I will always stand on the side of justice and with those who have been marginalized. Love outlasts, endures, heals, transforms, and never ceases.

In other words, I will fill my days with loving relentlessly.

Prayer

Lord, fill my heart with love and my days with the vision of your Kin-dom here on earth. May my love for you be evident in all that I do and all that I say. Amen.

Thursday, March 20

By: Kristen Struyk

Then Hezekiah commanded them to offer the burnt offering on the altar. And when the burnt offering began, the song of the Lord began also, with the trumpets and with the instruments of David king of Israel.

2 Chronicles 29:27

“It is when this surrender of our lives to God is made, and not until then, that the song begins in our hearts. . .and as the burdens grow heavier, the need for self-denial grows greater, the song becomes louder and richer in its melody.” J.R. Miller, When the Song Begins © 1905

I prefer obvious and immediate miracles. The excessive and automatic kind. But there is another kind that requires all we have to give. Lent is a good time to reflect not only on the miracle of resurrection after death but also on the miracle of life-giving surrender on this side of eternity.

My struggle with surrender started when I was 14 years old. I had ankle surgery after a sports injury and developed a disorder called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). The high intensity of the pain along with its constant chronic nature has made every moment of the last 16 years a fight for joy, and focus, and function. When I was a new high school student, I began to see prayer as submitting my thoughts in pencil–as rough drafts–to God for editing. At one point, I remember praying: “I can’t live like this.” Then, I remember this thought coming back to me marked instead with the words, “You don’t know how to live like this.” God continues to show me how, whenever I am willing to learn. This is when God’s song first began in my life.

In a similar spirit of learning, I think of the famous story of the composer Stravinsky trying to find a violinist who could play a challenging piece he had written. After rehearsal, the best violinist said he had tried but the passage was just too difficult to play. To his surprise, Stravinsky said, “I understand that. What I am after is the sound of someone trying to play it.”

When we are up against the “too difficult” – the incurable illness, the unanswered prayer, or the unacceptable loss – our whole-hearted, imperfect attempts to follow God are always met with God’s forgiving ear and God’s sustaining grasp. We can be thankful, now and always, to serve a God who is as down-to-earth as He is holy. May each of us walk worthy of our calling to love God and each other, and may we sound like someone trying to play the song God has written for us.

Prayer

Gracious God, when we don’t know how to move forward, we offer you our obedience and we ask for grace to trust You more. When the pressure of perfection keeps us from living wholeheartedly, remind us that you hear our hearts and redeem all our efforts. Give us the courage to give you our full attention and let Your song begin in each of our hearts today. Amen.