{My thanks to my sweet husband Leon for the idea for this message. He’s smart.}

            One of my father’s favorite adages went: Slow and steady wins the race; not the fast, uneven pace. It’s taken from a fable by Aesop about the tortoise and the hare. As we sit here halfway through Lent, that adage goes through my head a lot.

~Some folks are excited for Lent to be over, so they can go back to (fill in the blank – eating chocolate, going back to swearing or complaining, watching “The Voice”). They are living in the future, which means that they may not be aware of what is going on in the here and now. Sort of defeats the purpose of Lent, huh?

~Some folks suffer from Shiny Object Syndrome – they latch onto an idea, a fad, a new way of doing something (or even a new church) and dive straight into the deep end. They want to get involved in everything, be a part of everything then……….oops! Another Shiny Object comes by, and off they go. They are missing the dailyness of learning about things, the slower process that allows things to be absorbed fully.

~Some folks come to me and want to learn ‘how to be a Christian’ in the same way they learn how to perform CPR, or how to carve a turkey. Even my father – who was so very fond of the above adage – was frustrated because he didn’t want to learn to read music – he just wanted to learn how to play a song!!! When it is explained that following Jesus is a lifelong journey, and we never get all the answers, and we learn something at least every other day if not every day --- well, that doesn’t suit. They are wanting a fast track approach to being God centered. If one exists, I’d love to know. Or maybe not. I can only learn so much in one day, and the journey is far to interesting and wonderful.

Be here now. Slow down and listen. Take time to know who is around you in the pews. Realize that our lives are marathons, and not sprints. Be in it for the long haul.

So - Fred Phelps died today.  For years he was one of my go-to sermon examples.  I wanted to list someone I would have trouble passing communion to - Fred Phelps.  I needed the name of the one person I'd rather stay beaten up on the side of the road than accept help from - Fred Phelps.  I would strive to come up with a name of someone who would get kicked out of church if I were God - Fred Phelps.

Then last year, we did a series of sermons on snark.  Gossip.  Ugliness.  The power of words.  And I was convicted (to use the old word) to say from the pulpit that I wouldn't use ol' Fred Phelps again.  That I was not practicing what I preached, nor was I practicing what Jesus preached.

Now I hear of his passing.  The punchlines are going through my mind as fast as I can process them.  And yet.  And yet.

He will receive the same grace I do.  He will have to answer for his life the same as I will ( however that answering looks).  

Many years ago, there was an artist's rendering of the night of Jesus' betrayal.  It is set at night in the courtyard, just after Peter has denied knowing Jesus.  On one side of the picture is Jesus being led away in chains; on the other side is Peter. They have caught sight of one another.

The question is, of course, what does Peter see in the eyes of Jesus?

Some would say that when you answer that, you have established your relationship with Jesus, because the thought is that you think Jesus looks at Peter the way Jesus would look at you.

And.  So.  Of course, there is only one way Jesus looks at anyone.  Though it may be laced with other things - disappointment, confusion, hurt, anger, frustration - the only way Jesus look at anyone is with love.

So. Even the post title is ugly, isn't it?  

Lord, have mercy on me - a sinner.

The picture that accompanies my blog is one of a church.  I was amused not too long ago when a friend from my past electronically tracked me down after finding our church website, and said "WOW!  What a beautiful church!  Who knew Morehead had such a great looking Disciples church!?!"

It IS a beautiful church, isn't it?  And our church in Morehead is ALSO beautiful.  They are not, however, one and the same.

The church at the top of the page is St. Canice in Kilkenny, Ireland.  I have family from that area, and on our first trip there Leon took a photo of the church as a memento.  It's old - over 600 years old, I think - and just walking in the door was like entering a thin place.  I'm about as un-sentimental (is that a word?) as they come, but entering that place sort of caused time to fold in on itself for me.  I know very little about genealogy, nor am I really interested in it, but sitting in those pews caused me to wonder about others in my past who had worshipped there.

I believe with all my heart that Holy Ground is in our hands and hearts, not under our feet.  But there are places, aren't there, that just seem to be....different? Holy.  Special.  Teeming with energy and light and love.  The Irish call those places 'thin' - that is to say, an area where heaven and earth seem close together.  Those don't have to be formal assigned places, either.  For years after we bought the Leonderosa, I would say, " It's OUR farm, and OUR house, and OUR barn, and OUR field, and OUR pond........but MY dock". :-)  That small piece of real estate was the place many a sermon was written, many a prayer was prayed, many a blessing struggled for.

Our meditation group meets in our sanctuary, and though it may only be in my head, I am convinced that the room is warmer and kinder just from that experience.  

Where is your thin place?  I hope you have one.  If you do, thank God for it.  If you aren't aware of one, start looking and listening.  And........if you're in need of one, try 227 East Main Street.  It's next to the labyrinth. ( Which is also a thin place.................)

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday.  This begins 40 days of a season of contemplation and examination and concentration.  

Let's do it differently this year. Let's not make it about us.  (And yes, I know - that bumper sticker shows up a lot, doesn't it?)  

Many of us can do Lent without any thought at all.  Need to lose a few pounds?  Give up chocolate for Lent.  Need to watch one's language?  Give up swearing for Lent.  Need to spend more time on one thing?  Give up another; as in trading Facebook or "Real Housewives of Sharkey" for  reading a good book or reading THE Good Book.

But then we read the words of the Psalmist: Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Much harder.  Much harder to accomplish.  THAT kind of prayer is tackled by not only giving up things for 40 days, but by removing things from within and around our hearts so that God can come in and clean.  Sort of a combination "Hoarders" and Merry Maids.

And there are so many things that clog the way to our hearts; things that we hold and caress and love and cherish: grudges and hurts and suffering and times we were wronged and deeply held beliefs we cannot pry from our hard little hands.  Nigh impossible to ask God to create a clean heart when it's chockablock full of junk.

Our theme this year is "Taking Risks", and the time together will be spend looking at so many ways we stay safe by surrounding ourselves with our emotional baggage.  There's a wonderful story by Henri Nouwen.  You'll hear it later. I'll preach it Sunday.

But until then, let's make this Lent one that's not about us, but about God-with-us.