Sermons: March 2022

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Welcome Home

March 27, 2022 – Fourth Sunday in Lent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

The fate of the younger son in the first part of this parable is something most of us recognize. Though we may not have run off with our inheritance, we have squandered our resources and found that we have spent everything. How many of us have lost ourselves in dissolute living? I have been drunk, smoked cigarettes, and I even have a tattoo. I have felt lost and far from home. Some of us have turned our backs on our family, our homeland, or even our religious upbringing.

The younger son comes to such a state of disgrace that he goes to work feeding pigs. For a Jew, pigs are unclean; not only should you not eat them, you shouldn’t even touch them. He has become thoroughly wretched. When he finally comes to himself, recognizing the condition he is in is worse than the life of his father’s hired hands, he prepares to return home to humiliate himself in order to survive.

For addicts, it is called hitting rock bottom. We might call it the dark night of despair. It is that feeling of being so lost from who we are supposed to be that there is no further to fall. When the depth of our failure, our greed, our sin has extinguished all the lights, then we can most clearly see the light of hope and grasp for the lifeline God has held out for us all along.

In that culture, the response of the Father is unexpected. The son who has squandered his inheritance has brought shame on the family and should have been disowned. And yet, this father’s love has never burned more brightly than when the son returns. The father’s response to the prodigal’s return reveals the heart of this parable, the grace of God. As the father runs to greet him, we see the parent who has never given up hope, who kept looking to the horizon for any glimpse of the return of lost child.

The prodigal comes prepared to debase himself, to beg, not for forgiveness, but merely for the chance to become one of the servants. He rehearses what he will say, that he has become unworthy to be called a son, unworthy to be loved as part of the family. Before he can speak a word, however, his father has already embraced him. Hearing the speech of unworthiness, the father is having none of it. The finest robe, a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet. Even more, we will feast and celebrate; “for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”[2]

Such depth and breadth of love, compassion, and grace is offered by God. In this moment we see God’s deepest desire for us, God’s dream for all of us to return, to live again, to be found. We humans were made to be in loving relationship with God, each other, and all creation. We break our relationships; we fracture our connections and distort our view of one another. We lose ourselves in frivolous pursuits, seeking pleasures, riches, and accolades, while forsaking who we are and who we are meant to be. Yet God never gives up on us. God never loses hope. God never stops searching the horizon for a hint of our return.

It is a wonderful image of God’s love for us, but the parable doesn’t end there. We pull back from the scene of a party starting up to find the older son out in the field. He has remained faithful. He stayed by his father’s side; he HAS worked like a slave for his father all this time. If we’re honest with ourselves, we probably identify more with this child. We’ve been the good ones, we’ve been going to church for years, staying out of trouble, doing good things. Father never threw a party for us! Our jealousy and resentment keep us from being able to celebrate the return of our lost siblings.

This older son illustrates how we sometimes feel like we are being mistreated, neglected, or pushed aside when the undeserving have good things come their way. We’ve always been responsible; why does the irresponsible one get celebrated? We’ve always worked hard; why do the lazy ones who don’t want to work get things handed to them? I did it the right way; why do they get away with doing it the wrong way? We are worthy of God’s grace; why do the unworthy get it served on a silver platter?

This is where the parable shifts perspective, from the viewpoint of limited resources to the viewpoint of abundant grace in God’s kingdom. The father comes out to the older son to plead with him to join the celebration. Rather than scolding the older son, or defending the younger son, the father shifts attention to his own love and abundance. We are not running short of love, compassion, and grace here. “All that is mine is yours.”[3] The thing is, this isn’t your brother’s party; it’s mine. I am celebrating the return of one that I love, one I thought was lost forever yet has returned.

This is the good news of God’s kingdom. We human beings get lost, do things we shouldn’t, we bring shame upon ourselves and our families. We get jealous and resentful of others and of our place in the world. But God reaches out to us anyway; God seeks to reconcile our relationship, to celebrate when we return. The father absorbs the shame of the younger son’s disgrace, allowing him to return. The father seeks to pull the older son away from his jealousy and resentment, to draw him in to the celebration of love.

The parable is ultimately not about the younger son and his sin. It is not about the older son and his resentments. It is not about who deserves punishment and who deserves accolades. It is about God, and God’s endless love, God’s continual search for the lost in order to welcome them back home. God’s grace has no measure. When God gives grace to another, it doesn’t mean there is less for the rest of us. It means there is more. The parable is that mercy abolishes sin, abundance overcomes limits, and wayward children are welcomed home by loving parents.

This chapter of Luke began with the Pharisees and scribes grumbling about Jesus eating with sinners. It ends with the story of a father’s welcome of a prodigal son and a plea to the older son to join the celebration of the goodness of the father. The Pharisees and scribes, and all of us, are left with the question: will you keep standing out in the field burning with jealousy, or will you come join the welcome home party for the sinners? Amen.

[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 15:24.

[3] Luke 15:31.

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Bear Fruit

March 20, 2022 – Lent 3
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 13:1-9 [1]

The purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer for Easter. It is during this time that we focus more on Jesus calling people to repentance. As Paul wrote to the Romans, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”[2] Sin is turning away from God, or the ways of God; serving our own desires rather than seeking good for our neighbors. In Jesus time, it was often thought that bad things happened to people because of their sin. But Jesus, here in Luke 13, is trying to help us understand that that is not necessarily the case.

Jesus has been told that a group of Galileans were murdered by Pilate in their place of worship. Jesus responds, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”[3] He then tells them about an accident in Jerusalem, when a tower collapsed. Did they die because they were sinners? No, they were no worse people than anyone else living in Jerusalem. Imagine Jesus saying, “don’t think you’re invincible and nothing bad will ever happen to you just because you’re following me around.” Sin doesn’t cause bad things to happen to bad people. That’s not what sin is about, and that’s not what repentance is about.

When I have done something wrong, I try to acknowledge it and apologize for it. That’s confession. Repentance is the work of making things right, of repairing what is broken. And what is broken is often a relationship, a trust, or even my relationship with God. Repairing the relationship, re-building trust, that is the work of repentance. It can be hard work, and it will take time.

Repentance also means to make a change, to change course so as to not repeat the same mistake again. Making a change in behavior, a change in how we are in relationship with another, that is the repentance that Jesus is talking about here.

The fig tree is the example used here. Fig trees typically start producing fruit within two years of being planted. This tree that has not borne fruit in three years is unusual, a problem. The owner of the vineyard sees it as a waste of space and resources. Yet the gardener tries to spare the tree, to give it one more chance to grow. “He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.’”[4] Is the gardener seeking repentance for neglecting the tree? The gardener offers to change course, to try some extra care and attention in order to encourage the tree to bear fruit. That is one way to look at it. The gardener is saying, “It is my fault. I’m sorry. Let me make amends and try to set things right.”

Some scholars see the fig tree as a metaphor for and unrepentant Israel, God’s people who have fallen away, who are faced with God’s judgment. In that sense, the gardener is Jesus pleading for Israel to be given one last chance to change, to repair their relationship with God, to bear fruit. And it is through the extra love and care of Jesus, guiding them to change, that the people are given an opportunity to repent, to change their ways before the judgment of God falls upon them.

The call to repentance is a call to change. It is the opportunity to turn to God’s way that leads to peace, love, and life. Perhaps repentance and bearing fruit is not about turning from sinful ways or even the fear of God’s judgment, but about embracing change? The only constant in life is change, and no matter how we resist, how much we try to hold on to the past, time continues to go by. Maybe repentance is about changing to meet the changing needs of our selves, our communities, and our world. What has changed, and how can we respond to that change in a way that is consistent with the way of Jesus, the way of peace, love, and life?

Jesus gives us what we need in order to change. As the gardener gives extra care to the fig tree so that it may bear fruit, so we are given more love, care, hope, and encouragement so that we might bear fruit of repentance, fruit that will nourish the world that we inhabit. Let us do the work, not alone, but together, with Jesus in our midst, ensuring that we will not perish, but thrive. Amen.

[2] Romans 3:23.

[3] Luke 13:2-3.

[4] Luke 13:8.

Sunday, March 13, 2022

Something Bigger Is Going On

March 13, 2022 – Lent 2
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Philippians 3:17 - 4:1; Luke 13:31-35 [1]

It’s nice to be part of something bigger than yourself. In sports, its being part of the team. In school, its being part of the musical. In business, its being part of the company. In church, its being part of the choir. Being part of something bigger than ourselves allows us to accomplish more than we could on our own. It also allows us to share the joy of success and the agony of failure. I’m more than just me, I’m one of US. We won. WE did it. We’ll get through this together.

It felt great to cheer on the U.S. Olympians. You could feel the joy, the energy of the event, and that’s something we can all take part in. That’s us out there, twirling on the ice, racing down a ski slope.

Trouble is, even when we’re part of “us”, the “me” can take over. Like it or not, our world is obsessed with status and power. It’s not a bad thing to be the best, the most powerful, the one in control. What is bad is when that status and power is used to belittle, harm, or oppress others. It is that kind of power – corrupted power, abusive power – that is challenged by a kingdom where the last will be first and the first will be last.

The Herod that the Pharisees warn Jesus about is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great we hear about in the Christmas narrative. The kingdom of Herod the Great was divided upon his death, and Herod Antipas inherited the territories of Galilee and Perea. Then the Romans conquered the entire region. Herod was left to rule Galilee as a client state of the Roman Empire. His hold on power was tenuous; and Herod ruled only so long as he toed the line with Rome.

Fearing any threat to his power, Herod has already had John the Baptizer beheaded. Now Jesus is travelling Galilee preaching an upside-down kingdom. Not only will the first be last, but the last – those who have been kept down, treated like dirt, and ignored – they will rise to the top. This is not good news to Herod, and he responds to this threat to his power with his own threat of death. Yet his fear for himself misses the bigger story that is unfolding.

The mission and method of Jesus are rooted in the history of the prophets of Israel. The imagery here recalls the ancient promises of God’s care for Israel, but also God’s judgment when the people fail to be faithful in their covenant. Like Isaiah and Zechariah before him, Jesus speaks of gathering the scattered children of Israel and bringing them under the protective wings of God’s love. And like the earlier prophets, the words of Jesus go unheeded: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

This lament gives us a glimpse of the true identity of Jesus, and hints at what is to come. He will continue with his work and face the danger that waits in Jerusalem with the same resolve and devotion a mother feels for her children.

I once read a story by N.T. Wright, a retired Anglican bishop, which described a fire in the hen house, and the aftermath:

Those cleaning up have found a dead hen, scorched and blackened, and live chicks sheltering under her wings. She has quite literally given her life to save them. It is a vivid and violent image of what Jesus declared he longed to do for Jerusalem and, by implication, for all Israel. But, at the moment, all he could see was chicks scurrying off in the opposite direction, taking no notice of the smoke and flames indicating the approach of danger, nor of the urgent warnings of the one who alone could give them safety.[2]

What a metaphor for God’s maternal love for everyone, even those who turn away, even those who reject and stone the prophets, even those who would kill to protect their power and privilege.

To be a prophet is to speak truth to power, to challenge those in authority when they fail to uphold their responsibilities. The kingdom Jesus proclaims is a threat to powers everywhere, to Herod of Galilee, certainly, but also to the Roman Governor of Jerusalem, and, perhaps more importantly, even the powerful in the villages. “Jesus went through one town and village after another,” (v. 22) with this message about the first and the last. Every town is a seat of power, and lives are more easily destroyed by local people than by distant policies. The people that Jesus meets one-by-one as he does his work have been hurt more by violence, shame, and exclusion committed by their neighbors than they have been hurt by the Romans. Jesus isn’t just taking on one provincial ruler.

Jesus is not just coming to overthrow this ruler or that, but to overthrow every human heart. All this stuff that seems so important: power, status, control, they mean nothing in God’s realm. What matters most is the love that we show to one another. Lent is the season of the church when we reevaluate our relationship with God and examine the ways we live that lead us toward death and destruction. This is the time to face what we fear and prepare ourselves to follow Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

I find it curious that it’s the Pharisees who bring the warning. The Pharisees have been listening, and they know that their power is threatened as well. Why, then, would they warn Jesus of what is coming? One scholar suggests:

More than likely they have ulterior motives. Possibly they are in league with Herod and hope to drive Jesus out of Herod’s jurisdiction, into the arms of Pilate and Pilate’s responsibility. Then, like a state governor in our day passing on responsibility to federal authorities, at least Herod cannot be blamed for the results of this troublemaker’s actions. Maybe Pilate can figure out a way to get rid of Jesus altogether.[3]

In response, Jesus doesn’t hold back. He lets the Pharisees and Herod know he is not politically naïve. Listen! You tell that fox that I’m working on something bigger than he knows. I must be on my way, and your threats won’t stop me. Maybe Herod does want to kill me, but there is something bigger, something more important going on here. I won’t stop in the provinces. When I finish my work, I’m going to Jerusalem. Pilate will see me soon enough. I’m not just going down to Springfield, but all the way to Washington. And I’m fully aware of what they do to prophets there.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” (v. 34) I almost expect the next line to call for the destruction of the city. But here Jesus turns the tables again. It’s not a hound standing up to the fox; instead, it’s a hen trying to comfort her chicks. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” You poor people with your little kingdoms, your tiny circles of power, don’t you see that you are just caught up in the storm, chirping into the wind, driven by your fear to run from the very security you seek? This life of power and control that you defend with such anxiety, this life is not what God wants for you.

As Paul writes to the church in Philippi, there is a way of life that makes you an enemy of the cross of Christ. “Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things” (v. 19). The message that Jesus brings is that things can be different. We don’t have to live this way. Life is bigger than power. Life is bigger than status. Life is bigger than fear.

We could live as if ruling one small piece of this world is all that is important. “But our citizenship is in heaven.” We belong to something bigger than what is happening in this little town, this province, this state. We are members of the commonwealth of heaven. We are the Body of Christ. We are part of something much bigger than ourselves.

We have been given gifts from God, talents, skills, and we can use them to shape this world into something better. When we use them together, we can make a remarkable difference in the lives of people here in Union, in Illinois, in the United States, and around the world. We are part of the Body of Christ, members of the household of God. We are all in this together – our friends, our neighbors, our classmates, our co-workers, and even our enemies, our homeless and hungry brothers and sisters, and all the living beings that cover the face of the globe. We may face danger, and we might have to walk the way that leads to the cross, but God waits for us on the other side, with love stronger than death.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. Live according to the example we have in Christ. And when the time comes, let us say: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” Amen.

[2] N. T. Wright, quoted in: http://i.ucc.org/StretchYourMind/OpeningtheBible/WeeklySeeds/tabid/81/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/382/Strong-and-Tender-Feb-22-28.aspx.

[3] Rodney Clapp, “Pastoral Perspective” on Luke 13:31-35 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 70.

Sunday, March 6, 2022

You Could Have It All

March 6, 2022 – Lent 1
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 4:1-13 [1]

It’s testing time in schools. Well, it’s always testing time in schools, but when the standardized tests come around, things get more test-focused. Schools began to prepare their students for the state-developed tests that determine whether a student will transition to the next grade level and whether the school itself will be rated as successful. Tests, however imperfect, give us data, hard numbers we can use to make decisions. They can also reveal where help is needed. A good test helps us understand how to improve the teaching to better meet the needs of the student.

The kind of test that Jesus faces in the wilderness is a bit different. This is more of a battle of wits, or perhaps of willpower. We learn from this test that the devil is smart. He knows the Bible verses he needs to put Jesus to the test. We also learn that the devil is not sure of who Jesus is. Jesus knows how he is, and passes the test – not by giving the right answers, showing his power – but by holding firm to his purpose which is not to serve himself, but to serve God.

“If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”[2]. This is not a challenge to do something bad. This isn’t a temptation to steal bread, to take from others. It’s just a stone; turn it into bread. You’re hungry, and it will help you feel better. Of course, if you can do that to help yourself, you could feed all the hungry people in Israel. If you are the Son of God, that is. Jesus responds by quoting Moses, “one does not live by bread alone.”[3] Feeding the hungry is good, but I am here to do more than that.

“Worship me, it will all be yours.”[4] You could have it all: glory, power, all the kingdoms of the world. We both know Roman rule is terrible, you could do so much better. Just think how great everything could be! The world at your command. Just make sure you tell them who gave you your start. Jesus replies that he is not here take over the power of the kingdoms, but to place the rule of God’s kingdom in the hearts of people. “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”[5] You do not have the authority you claim, for all authority belongs to God.

Throw yourself down from the pinnacle of the temple.[6] You won’t get hurt; God will send angels to protect his Son. Do it here, the temple, and all the priests will see. No one will doubt you. Jesus didn’t come to give proofs and rule the temples of the world, but the temple that is in every human heart. “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”[7]

The devil didn’t get the answers he sought, but Jesus passed the test. He would not become a human hero, but something much more. Jesus finished the test, staying true to his mission to serve God. And though he refused to turn the stone into bread, he will feed the hungry. Though he refused power, he would proclaim the kingdom of God. Though he refused to test God’s love for him, he would demonstrate his love for God and for all of us on the cross.

The tests that we face are not the same as these. Our tests are much more mundane, but we will find ourselves in a wilderness, hungry, tired, and lonely. It may look like a waiting room in the hospital with a loved one on the brink. It may look like sheets on a cheap motel bed, or walls made of cardboard, after you lose your house. It may be a lonely walk through a full parking lot after you lose your job. It may be a wilderness of silence as you cry for help in the depths of your heart.

Sooner or later, each of us will find ourselves in a wilderness, a place or time when we have to rely not on ourselves, our own power, or the safety net that we’re used to. It is there, in the emptiness, that we may discover who we really are and what our lives are really about.

For Jesus, that six-week stretch of hunger and solitude set him free from all that would distract him from his true purpose. With no food, no earthly power, no special protection, Jesus not only learned to manage his appetites; he also learned to trust the Spirit that had led him there and would lead him out again.

We don’t always choose when to go into the wilderness. The Spirit led Jesus there, and can lead us too. And when we find ourselves there, we can try to let go of all that does not lead us toward God and toward life. We can practice hanging on to what sustains, turning toward what gives life, and resisting the temptations that lead us away from who we are. If we are patient, if we allow enough time for the wilderness to change us, we will find ourselves led through to the other side, having finished the test, and ready to trust God to guide us in all the tests to come. Amen.

[2] Luke 4:3.

[3] Deuteronomy 8:3.

[4] Luke 4:7.

[5] Luke 4:8

[6] Luke 4:9.

[7] Deuteronomy 6:16.

Wednesday, March 2, 2022

Another Try

March 2, 2022 – Ash Wednesday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 [1]

We’ve all made New Year’s resolutions, right? We promise to quit smoking, to lose weight, to get better grades, to make the team, to spend more time with our families. How’d that work out for you? For me, it usually lasts for a few days, but then I slip, skip, or fail. Try again next year, I guess. Often, it seems as if Lent is “New Year’s resolutions part 2.” Only this time there’s more guilt because you’re not just failing yourself, you’re failing God! “What are you giving up for Lent?” is the question I heard as a kid. Was I a bad Christian because, at first, I didn’t understand the question? My answer was “Um, nothing”? I felt like I was missing out on something, something important.

What is Lent really about, anyway? “The traditional purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer — through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial — for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus.”[2] Prayer serves to direct our attention to God. Penitence is “the condition of being sorrowful and remorseful for sins one has committed.”[3] Almsgiving is charity, giving to those in need and thus showing love for our neighbor. And self-denial is the giving-something-up which is meant to redirect our thoughts and energy from bodily or earthly things to spiritual or divine things. Lent was originally the time when candidates prepared for baptism, which took place during the Easter vigil, the Saturday night before Easter Sunday morning. It was an intense period of fasting and prayer.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, the forty-day period leading up to Easter Sunday. (Sundays are not counted as part of Lent since every Sunday is a celebration of the resurrection.) The forty days symbolize the forty days Jesus spent fasting in the wilderness before he began his public ministry. Ash Wednesday gets its name from the practice of placing ashes on the foreheads of the faithful as a sign of repentance. The act echoes the ancient Near Eastern tradition of throwing ashes over one’s head to signify repentance before God.[4] You may recall that Job, after arguing his case before God and being humbled, repented in sack-cloth and ashes. The ashes are also a reminder of our mortality, as we read in Genesis 3:19, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Of course, all of this tradition seems to be just the opposite of what the biblical texts we just read tell us. Isaiah, speaking for God, asks: “Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself… and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?” (58:5) Matthew, quoting Jesus, says: “And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting.” (6:16) Hypocrisy, making a show of faith without any substance, without action to back up the words, is bad religion. Don’t just talk the talk, walk the walk. Actions speak louder than words. The words from Isaiah and Matthew remind us that God knows when we’re faking it.

So why should we celebrate Lent, and why, especially, should we put ashes on our faces? Well, for starters, showy religiosity is not really something we get accused of a lot. We tend to be quite humble in our piety, anonymous in our charity; we never pray in public and we put on a happy face even when we feel miserable, depressed, or hungry for something we cannot find. If anything, we’re not showy enough. But I’m not suggesting the opposite extreme. Please, go home and wash your face tonight, if you like. No, I don’t know where you can find sack-cloth. And, don’t go stand on the street and start shouting prayers; you’re likely to get arrested.

We should receive the ashes and celebrate Lent because we need help keeping our focus on God. It’s okay if we stumble, if we fail, if we fall short. God knows that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Lent will come again, and we can give it another try. But we should try, because when we do, we store up treasures in heaven, and that treasure can’t be taken from us.

There is value in ritual. There is something powerful in the act of repentance, here before one another, and that power can make a difference in the way we live our lives. If this year we give Lent another try, really take it seriously, maybe something in us can change for good. Maybe something in the world around us can change for good.

Rather than a fast of self-denial as expressed by going without food, or sweets, or indulgences, let us choose the fast of other-sustaining. We know this by the phrase “love your neighbor.” It’s something we already do, but we can take this moment, these forty days, to give our other-sustaining efforts a new intensity.

Share your bread with the hungry, and the Food Pantry customers will be grateful. Bring the homeless poor into your house; they may be angels in disguise. Give clothing and household items to people in need; you may turn a house into a home. We have already done good work to help others through our offerings and donations. But this is just treating the symptoms, not curing the disease. We can do so much more. We can do more to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free, and to satisfy the needs of the afflicted.

This Lenten season let us really try to be constant in prayer, to seek God in every moment, prepared to answer when we hear the call. This Lenten season, let us repent; not merely feeling sorry for the wrong things we have said and done, but really making an effort to correct our mistakes. This Lenten season, let us be generous with our money, with our time, and with our love. This Lenten season, let us deny ourselves what we don’t need, and sustain others with all that we can. This Lenten season, may our light rise in the darkness and raise up the foundations of many generations.

There is a spiritual I learned in seminary that speaks to the spirit of Lent, and how I can best direct my thoughts and my actions this season, and every day. It goes like this:

Woke up this mornin’ with my mind, stayed on Jesus
Woke up this mornin’ with my mind, stayed on Jesus
Woke up this mornin’ with my mind, stayed on Jesus
Hallelu, hallelu, hallelujah.

Amen.

[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent.

[3] Donald K. McKim, Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996).

[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ash_Wednesday.