The very air we breathe is a gift, a reminder that our life is not our own but is sustained by a divine source. In moments of stillness, we can feel this sacred rhythm of inhalation and exhalation, connecting us to the Creator who gives us movement and purpose. This breath invites us into a state of awareness, calling us out of the stories we tell ourselves and into the greater story God is writing. It is in this space that we begin to understand our true calling. [06:28]
And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. (Genesis 2:7, KJV)
Reflection: As you go about your day, where do you most easily forget that your very breath is a gift from God? What would it look like to pause once today, feel the air filling your lungs, and offer a simple prayer of thanks for this animating grace?
It is one thing to affirm a beautiful theological idea and another to live it out in the complexities of our world. Scripture can paint a picture of radical unity and equality in Christ, yet our social and political structures often tell a very different story. This dissonance calls for a deep and honest examination, not just of our personal faith, but of the systems we participate in and how they align with the kingdom of God. We are invited to look courageously at this gap. [24:00]
For in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:26, 28, NRSV)
Reflection: Where do you see the most significant disconnect between the unity described in Galatians 3:28 and the reality of our world today? In what specific area of your own life or community are you being challenged to act in a way that better aligns with this belief?
Lent calls us to a fast, not merely from treats or habits, but from the comfortable narratives we use to shield ourselves from truth. One such narrative is the belief that our society has moved decisively beyond its painful history of injustice. To truly repent and turn toward God, we must willingly relinquish this story of inevitable progress. This fast creates a holy hunger to see our present reality with clarity and courage, unclouded by self-congratulation. [34:08]
Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes; cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. (Isaiah 1:16-17, NRSV)
Reflection: What story about our nation’s progress or your own personal righteousness have you accepted without question? What one piece of current evidence challenges that story and invites you into a more truthful understanding?
History is not a series of isolated events but a connected narrative with a discernible through line. The struggles for dignity and justice decades ago are not sealed in the past; their logic and consequences extend into our present moment. To see this continuity is to understand that the work of justice is not finished. It is a call to recognize the patterns of privilege and power that persist and to discern our role in addressing them here and now. [33:19]
Then the LORD said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings.” (Exodus 3:7, NRSV)
Reflection: When you consider a current event involving injustice, what echoes from the past do you hear? How does recognizing this “through line” change your understanding of your own responsibility in this moment?
God does not wait for us to become perfect before meeting us; God is already present in the deep and difficult waters of self-examination. The journey of Lent requires us to willingly step into those waters, to allow our cherished self-perceptions to be challenged. This holy discomfort is not meant to condemn but to transform, inviting us to shed the stories we hide behind and to embrace the truthful, grace-filled identity God offers. [51:56]
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:10-12, NRSV)
Reflection: As you consider the story you tell yourself about who you are, what is one aspect that feels most vulnerable to bring before God? What would it mean to trust that God is already waiting for you in that place of honesty, not with judgment, but with restoring grace?
Galatians 3:28 becomes the lens for a Lenten challenge that refuses easy sentiment and insists on moral clarity. Galatians 3:28 proclaims unity in Christ—no Jew or Greek, no slave or free—but history and present realities show that belief without action leaves that promise hollow. Jimmy Lee Jackson’s life and death anchor this examination: a devoted churchgoer who tried for years to register to vote, who attended civil-rights meetings, and who, during a 1965 march in Marion, Alabama, ran into Mac’s Café to protect his family while state troopers attacked the marchers. State trooper James Bonard Fowler shot Jackson twice; Jackson survived for days, spoke of freedom and faith, and then died after a second surgery that his attending black doctor believed involved an overdose of anesthesia. Martin Luther King Jr. called Jackson a “murdered hero,” and leaders later used his death as the catalyst for the Selma-to-Montgomery march.
Officials often followed laws in letter while upholding systems that disenfranchised Black citizens: voter-registration offices that opened only days a month, mass-meeting bans, destroyed press equipment, and prosecutions that targeted organizers rather than those who used lethal force. Fowler avoided indictment for decades, later pled to manslaughter, served a short sentence, and died free—an outcome that exposes the long through line from 1965 to contemporary cases in which unarmed Black people die at the hands of law enforcement and accountability rarely follows.
Lent receives this history not as detached study but as a summons to repentance and reorientation. The community will fast not merely from snacks but from the comforting myth of inevitable national moral progress. A weekly return to Galatians 3:28 will ask what it looks like to live that unity in public life now: to give up self-justifying stories, to seek concrete justice, and to let hunger for Eucharistic grace become a real, transformative ache. Communion will pause to cultivate that hunger, with the aim that Easter’s sacrament lands with renewed meaning.
Practical steps and communal supports accompany the call: a food pantry shifting from soup to hot chocolate and cookies, a civil-rights attorney visiting to connect history to ongoing work, and a Lenten sequence that includes reflections on James W.C. Pennington. The invitation remains direct: face uncomfortable truths, repent where stories deceive, and move toward practices that embody the equality Christ promises.
Now, if that feels like a prickly thought to you, I want you to know that that is entirely my intent. We are closer as a nation in terms of our ethics to the night that Jimmy Lee Jackson was shot at Max than we are to Paul's vision of our life in Christ. That this is true requires our repentance and then our desire to move closer to god and in order to make that turn, we have to give up very important things about how we describe ourselves to ourselves and to each other. But until we take on our own mythology, we will never be fully incorporated into the life of Christ.
[00:30:34]
(50 seconds)
#ConfrontOurMyth
For Lent, most people are taught to give up something. Often, it's chocolate or soda or caffeine or these days, I often see social media and if that's your practice, that's fine. But we are called to a fast from the things that keep us from seeing god. As a church, as a church here, a local church that's called Saint James. I want us to fast from the belief that this country is materially different from 02/18/1965.
[00:29:58]
(37 seconds)
#FastFromDenial
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