The time between celebration and reflection can be a sacred space. We are past the busyness of the holidays and settling into winter routines, yet we feel the promise of longer, warmer days ahead. This is a natural time to look inward, to consider what in our lives may be preventing us from being fully open to God's guidance. It is a time to prepare our hearts for the intentional journey of Lent, a season that asks us to create space for what God has in mind next. [37:19]
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!” (Luke 12:22-24, NIV)
Reflection: As you consider the transition into this new season, what is one routine or habit that currently fills your time which you could set aside to create more space for quiet reflection and listening for God?
Holding onto objects, memories, or ways of being can often feel safe and familiar, even when they have lost their purpose in our current lives. These things can become burdens, taking up space—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—that could be used for new growth. Letting go is rarely easy and is a task we must ultimately do for ourselves; it is a personal act of courage and trust. It is an acknowledgment that while something was once valuable, its season has passed, making room for God’s next chapter. [42:38]
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21, NIV)
Reflection: What is one thing—a possession, a grudge, or an old narrative about yourself—that you have outgrown but are still holding onto? What would it feel like to finally release it?
We often expect to encounter the divine in beautiful, serene, or obviously holy settings. Yet, God meets us wherever we are, even in the messy, difficult, and unattractive places of our lives. He is present in the landfills of our experiences—the places of discard, regret, or struggle. Recognizing God there requires a shift in perspective, an openness to finding grace and meaning not in spite of the mess, but within it. This is where transformation often begins. [41:15]
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18, NIV)
Reflection: Can you recall a time when you unexpectedly felt God’s presence or guidance during a difficult or ‘messy’ situation? How does that memory encourage you to look for Him in current challenges?
Letting go requires a deep trust that God will provide for our needs. It is an act of faith that affirms we are more valuable to God than the birds of the air, which He faithfully feeds. When we release our grip on the things we have accumulated for security, we actively choose to rely on God’s care instead. This trust is not passive; it is the courageous decision to believe that God will meet us in the space we create with something new and life-giving. [46:09]
“And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19, NIV)
Reflection: What practical worry or concern makes it most difficult for you to fully trust God’s provision? What is one small step you can take this week to actively place that concern in His hands?
The season of Lent invites us into practices of surrender, such as fasting or giving something up. Yet, the true purpose is not merely the external act but the internal shift it prompts. It is about moving beyond ritual to an authentic offering of our hearts to God. This kind of surrender is personal and cannot be done for us by anyone else. It is the hard, sometimes strenuous work of dragging our burdens to the foot of the cross and leaving them there, so we can walk forward in freedom. [44:53]
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8, NIV)
Reflection: How can your Lenten practice this year move beyond a simple habit of denial and become a genuine act of creating space for a deeper relationship with God?
Matthew 17’s transfiguration frames a season of holy waiting that moves toward both vulnerability and renewal. Jesus’ luminous appearance on the mountain and the voice from heaven command attention and point toward a coming resurrection, calling for silence until the appointed time. The narrative creates a hinge between revelation and expectation, inviting reflection on how to live while anticipating God’s unfolding work. An extended personal parable about an old mattress at the landfill models spiritual housekeeping: recognizing when an object has outlived its purpose, making the effort to remove it, and confronting the awkward, sometimes risky work of letting go. Discarding the mattress becomes a concrete practice of creating space for what God might next provide.
Children’s questions about giving things up for Lent and the church’s communal rituals surface the discipline of intentional deprivation as a method for increased attentiveness to God. The liturgical calendar moves from Mardi Gras celebration into the restraint of Ash Wednesday and forty days of Lent, calling participants to examine attachments—material, emotional, and spiritual—that weigh down readiness for rebirth. Practical concerns and pastoral prayer weave through the community life: announcements, pastoral care for those harmed by accidents, transitions in living situations, prayers for leaders and for rain in a dry valley, and expressions of gratitude for musical ministry. These ordinary items of congregational life ground the larger theological themes in concrete care.
Luke’s image of ravens that neither sow nor reap centers trust: life’s needs fall under God’s providence even without human control over every outcome. The call is not to passivity but to faithful release—doing the work of uncluttering where responsible and then trusting provision for what follows. The season invites both active letting go and expectant hope, asking for honest assessment of burdens and for courage to remove them, so that life may breathe more fully toward resurrection.
Here's where I wanna take a moment to reflect. Why was I here? Because it was time for me to get rid of this particular object. And despite my best efforts, no one else was gonna do it for me. Maybe it's just me, but I believe God was telling me it was time because this object no longer had a role in my life, and I needed to create space. Space for whatever might be coming next.
[00:42:21]
(40 seconds)
#CreateSpace
We are entering into another season of waiting. But unlike Advent, it can feel like a somber season. We know it's leading to rebirth, but it can feel kinda heavy. Lent can feel heavy. But often, we have to create space for what may come by letting go of the stuff that burdens us, whether it's physical, emotional, spiritual. And we just can't ask others to do that for us.
[00:45:01]
(33 seconds)
#SeasonOfWaiting
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