Hello, Friends!
     Here we are once again, in the holy season of Lent, our pilgrimage with Jesus along the way of the cross.
     Traditionally a time of cleansing, repentance and renewal, Lent affords us the opportunity to take stock, clean spiritual house, spend time in quiet contemplation and prayer, and renew our commitment to live true to the call of Love.
      Some folks like to “give something up” for Lent—to relinquish a behavior, forego an indulgence, undertake a discipline of fasting, or reallocate time to allow for focused spiritual engagement.
      Many of you know that Rev. John, my beloved and a good friend of this congregation, has a mischievous sense of humor.  Quite often his quips are just the antidote  I need to a tendency to be a bit too earnest and serious, too heavy about things.   That can be especially true about anything having to do with my work with you all, which I take very much to heart and wish to do well.
    So, while I was thinking out loud the other day about what sincere, spiritual, loving discipline I could undertake for Lent, I remembered John’s response to someone’s question about what he was giving up:    “Oh, I’m giving up my new year’s resolutions.”
Okay, so it’s funny, and we all know why—how many of us have made great promises to ourselves and others, and by February, already failed, fallen short, given ourselves new equipment for self-recrimination?
      If we go to the heart of the matter, what really gets in the way of our sense of connection to the heart of holiness is our state of mind, our attitude, or way of perceiving ourselves, others, life itself.  
     One thing to give up that might actually be holier than foregoing a luxury or an unhealthy physical practice could be this:
       What if we stop beating up on ourselves for not being good enough, invite God’s mercy in, and see what happens in the gentle space left open?
       I like what Jane Vennard says in the introduction to The Upper Room Disciplines daily Bible study (which I highly recommend):

     “As you begin …study, reflection, and prayer be gentle and compassionate with yourself.  You may delight in the Word one week and ignore it the next.  When this happens, remind yourself that you have not failed, and you are not unfaithful.  Be grateful that you have recognized what has happened, open the book, and begin again.  Rejoice that you have started over.”
      I look forward to starting over (and over) with you this Sunday, on Wednesday evenings in Lent, and all our days to come.
 
Shalom,
Sarah