The world is not lacking religious zealots. Take a nice spring drive through the beauty of our Commonwealth, and you'll find it hard to miss religious symbolism, whether that is crosses, the name "Jesus," or other flags paying homage to a diety - human or godly. Sometimes what we need most is to disconnect from the gods of the world, that we might be recentered in the God of resurrection - the God of new life.

It seems like every corner we take we find another gaslit fight waiting to break out. The world is anxious, like a lit powder keg, waiting for ignition. In such a tense moment, what we need is to cultivate a calming presence that difuses tension and holds fast to truth and love.

We're all just a little bit conceited, aren't we? We live in a world that has given us permission to be a know-it-all, who can spit out fake news as if it were truth, and people will believe us. But the way of Christ is one of humility and selflessness. A faithful posture requires a limiting of one's ego.

Very few of us live without wounds that lie beneath the surface. We have likely been traumatized, or we know someone who has. The world would try to convince us that carrying wounds and trauma makes us less loved, less faithful, and less able. Yet Jesus invites us to see and touch his wounds to know we are not alone.

Jesus faced the devil in the wilderness, a spiritual force that invited Jesus to turn away from the truth of God's power and authority. Paul says that, for all people of faith, we struggle in a similar fight against spiritual forces and cosmic powers. So what really is behind the systemic issues that continue to deteriorate God's beautiful creation?

Lent is a journey to discover wholeness. But to admit we have wholeness to discover, we must begin in the acknowledgement of the brokenness of our world. The world is plagued by sin - separation from God - separation from love. Sin is a failure to love. As we begin this year's lenten journey, we'll consider how the brokenness of the world is the result of our failure to love.

We often think of hope as short-term planning: What do you hope will happen in your upcoming job interview; your athletic competition; or you current dating relationship? But hope isn't the same as goal-setting. Hope offers us something greater; it is an invitation to a promise that is bigger than our own lives.

As we maintain a focus on hope, we find that hope is not a stagnant entity. Hope is not just something we think about or believe in, hope is a motivator that leads us into action. Like a daily walk, hope is something that we practice and live out.

The Old Testament offers a beautiful witness to the power of hope in story. By offering hope in story, we are able to pass on hope, to share hope, and to include the greater community in the promise of hope.

Hope, properly defined, is a full-body experience. It lives not just in our minds or souls, but hope lives in the body. It's visible, experienced, and felt in every fiber of our being.