​Lent in the Garden: The Birds, the Bees, and Jesus

No, no, not those birds and bees. The actual birds and the bees, friends. Before I even started writing this, I found myself longing to discuss spring and Lent. Both seasons arrive together, and both seem to stir up something beneath the surface. Spring brings everything bursting back to life—beautiful, blooming, hopeful—but also reminds us that renewal is not always comfortable. For many of us, spring means scratchy noses, watery eyes, and the irritation of allergies. In the same way, Lent can be a time that unsettles us but also invites us to reflect, change, and deepen our faith. Just as nature begins to wake up, Lent gives us an opportunity to seek genuine spiritual renewal, shaking us out of old patterns and calling us to experience God in a fresh way. So here’s the question I kept returning to: What does it mean to choose something deeper than distraction or surface-level rituals, and to seek real renewal in this season—when everything outside and inside us is being stirred up?

There’s no better comparison of nature’s spring than to the Lenten season (the old English translation of lencten is in fact “spring”). Lent is intended to be a time of reflection and renewal, a period to prepare our hearts, minds, and spirits for Easter, much like what happens in our gardens during spring. And by the way, the rebirth of my garden is a sight to see. In the winter, it’s all snappy twigs and bald patches that need a good mulching. Not beautiful by any means. The beauty is knowing that while the plants lie dormant, their root systems continue to deepen their connection to the earth by navigating the cold soil (well, clay). Just this week, I pressed my hands into the cold soil, the dirt packed tight under my fingernails, and pushed aside the tangle of last year’s leaves to reveal the first pale red peony shoot stubbornly breaking through. Spring is coming. And just like this long spring garden metaphor, the purpose of Lent isn’t what it seems on the outset. It’s not just about giving up coffee, chocolate, or Amazon shopping for six weeks. It’s the act of allowing ourselves to go a little dormant, to pull back and let the roots of our faith deepen and strengthen.

Perhaps the reason this particular Lenten season means so much to me is that it is actually my first time assigning myself a discipline, or something I must “give up.” That’s right. I was born into a Christian family and have been one my entire life, but we never participated in Lent. Choosing a discipline proved quite challenging for me. I had decision paralysis: where to begin? Drinking too much coffee, indulging in chocolate more often than I care to admit, scrolling social media—all excellent disciplines to choose for Lent. But giving something up is just one side of the story. This season can also be about adding something life-giving—daily scripture reading, writing a note of encouragement to a friend each week, or setting aside time for reflection. I really like referring to this devotion as a discipline, because that’s what it is: selecting a goal and adhering to behaviors and habits that help us succeed. The real discipline is not just taking something away; it’s putting God in its place.

Distraction is an everyday struggle for so many of us, and it can feel discouraging when our intentions and actions don’t always align. But even in these imperfect moments, God’s grace is present. The beauty of Lent and of our faith is not in flawless discipline, but in returning to God again and again, however messy the process. If you find yourself struggling, take heart: God welcomes our best efforts with compassion and meets us wherever we are.

Can we assign ourselves a discipline, let go of something we habitually repeat for that quick dose of dopamine, and instead fill that time with prayer, stillness, and preparing our hearts for the truth of Easter? Can we give something up in the name of pursuing a closer relationship with Jesus? Can we demand orderliness of ourselves to spend a little more time with God? 

I am looking forward to continued renewal through this Lenten season, both for my soul and my garden. I’m nurturing my faith and making space for attentive, thoughtful prayer. I’m going to show myself grace when I inevitably falter. There will be plenty of moments where old habits creep back in. When I slip up and lose track of my intentions, I plan to acknowledge it, forgive myself, and start again—reminding myself that renewal is a journey, not a pass-or-fail test. If you, too, stumble on your discipline, try to pause, breathe, and return to your practice the next day, even if it’s in a small, simple way. 

Praying that you find deeper meaning in your devotion this Lenten season.

​Yours in Christ!

Chelsea Spits
Director of Children's Music

Our Heavenly Father is all powerful, all knowing, and all loving. He has supreme power and authority over all creation. He has knowledge of all things--past, present and future. He is the source of all goodness. For centuries, God has used his attributes to work with men who didn't seem to qualify for the task. These men were used despite their mistakes and limitations, displaying the power and authority of our almighty Creator.
 
Moses was a stutterer with a violent past. He was a murderer and unwilling to follow God's instructions. Yet he led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He guided them through the wilderness for 40 years and delivered the laws of God to Israel.
 
David was a young, overlooked shepherd boy unlikely to be selected king by men. Yet he was chosen by God to be one. He conquered Jerusalem and united the tribes of Israel and Judah. He also made preparations for the temple to be built by his son Solomon.
 
Peter was an impatient fisherman who denied Jesus three times yet became a fundamental leader of the early church. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he performed miracles and brought the gospel to both Jews and Gentiles. Peter wrote two books in the New Testament and was a key witness to Jesus’ ministry, resurrection and ascension into heaven.
 
And then came Paul. God transformed Paul through a dramatic encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. Instantly he was turned from a persecutor of Christians into an apostle of faith. He was redirected from destroying the church to spreading the gospel. Paul went on to write much of the New Testament.
 
God uses imperfect people to accomplish His will. I am imperfect and so are you. We don't want to stay this way, so we strive for perfection through his mercy and grace. Even with the imperfections in and around us, we can feel his heart, know his touch and enjoy his grace. Just as God led Moses, David, Peter and Paul; He will overlook our imperfections and take us places beyond our reach. Blessings to all!
 
In Christ,
Jerome Young
Facilities Manager
 

 I am genuinely heartbroken at how divided our country has become!
 
And what makes this even more painful is that our country is desperate for leadership that will bring healing and unity, but instead, we have leadership that thrives on division. Rather than calming tensions, naming our shared humanity, or “calling us toward our better angels” as Abraham Lincoln said, our leaders continue to say and do things that inflame fear, deepen resentment, and pit us against one another. Division isn’t being challenged; it’s being rewarded.
 
That matters very much because when those at the top model contempt instead of compassion, outrage instead of responsibility, it gives permission for the rest of us to do the same. And far too often, Christians fall right in line, mistaking loyalty to power for faithfulness to God.
 
If we’re waiting on politicians to save us, we’ve already missed the point. Unity was never going to come from the White House. It was always supposed to come from the Church; from people shaped by love, humility, repentance, and courage. But that requires us to stop echoing division and start embodying the way of Jesus.
 
And yet…
 
People are losing their minds over Bad Bunny, a wildly successful Latino artist, a U.S. CITIZEN, performing on one of the biggest stages in the world. And let’s be honest about what’s really bothering some folks: it’s not the music. It’s not the performance. It’s who he is.
 
What’s almost funny, if it weren’t so sad, is how angry people are over a performance that was truly amazing. It was beautiful. It was joyful. It was full of culture, rhythm, pride, and artistry. Nothing about it was threatening… unless you already feel threatened by cultures that aren’t centered on you.
And honestly, none of this is new.
 
Every year, many Christians seem to find something to be outraged about when it comes to the Super Bowl. A few years ago, it was Black athletes kneeling during the national anthem in peaceful protest of police brutality. Those protests were dignified, nonviolent, and deeply Christian in their moral vision for justice; calling a nation to live up to its own stated values. And yet what I heard from many Christians, what I even heard from the pulpit, was some of the most vitriolic, angry, dehumanizing rhetoric imaginable. Not curiosity. Not compassion. Just outrage baptized as faith.
 
The hypocrisy is exhausting.
 
The same people who rage about a Latino artist being celebrated will gladly walk into a Mexican restaurant, order tacos and margaritas, enjoy Spanish music, and consume the culture without a second thought. Culture is acceptable when it’s convenient. When it entertains. When it stays “in its place.” But the moment that culture is honored, centered, and celebrated on a national stage, suddenly it’s a problem.
 
Then out comes the “All-American” language.
 
And let’s be clear about that rhetoric. “All-American” has been used before. Just like the Roman’s 13 that folks like to throw around. It was used to justify segregation. It was used to exclude Indigenous people from their own land. It was used to shame civil rights leaders for bringing “politics into faith.” It has always been a tool, not of unity, but of control.

Because when many people say they want something “All-American,” what they usually mean is white and Christian.
Not diverse.
Not multilingual.
Not inclusive.
 
That has nothing to do with Jesus.
 
This pattern isn’t about protecting faith. It’s about protecting comfort. Instead of engaging culture with humility, curiosity, and compassion, we demand that it bow to our preferences. We baptize our outrage, call it “righteous anger,” and convince ourselves we’re defending God, when in reality, we’re defending our idols: control, power, and the illusion of moral superiority.
 
Take and moment and imagine how powerful it would be if all the money, energy, and outrage poured into creating a self-congratulatory “Christian alternative” were redirected toward actually doing the things Jesus commanded: feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, caring for the poor, welcoming the stranger, and loving our neighbors in tangible ways. That would look far more like the Gospel than a protest disguised as worship.
 
As a Christian, I find this deeply unchristian.
 
Jesus never told us to fear other languages.
He never told us to reject other cultures.
He never told us to love our neighbor only if they look like us, worship like us, or make us comfortable.
 
If a joyful, culturally rich performance upsets you more than injustice, cruelty, or the way we treat our neighbors, then the problem isn’t the halftime show.
 
It’s our hearts.
 
This country is at its best when we celebrate the full humanity of its people… not when we disguise exclusion as holiness.
 
Love your neighbor.
ALL of them.

God of justice and mercy,
We come to You with broken voices and trembling hearts, because the world has forgotten who we all are to one another, and too many of us have learned how to look away.
 
What is happening around us is not okay.
Children are suffering.
Families are being torn apart.
Violence is excused.
Cruelty is explained away.
And silence has become more comfortable than truth.
 
Lord, this is not Your will.
We confess that we have allowed politics to matter more than people.
That we have chosen sides instead of choosing love.
That we have defended systems instead of defending the vulnerable.
Forgive us.
 
Break our hearts for what breaks Yours.
Shatter our indifference.
Disrupt our comfort.
Do not let us call injustice “necessary” or hatred “normal.”
 
Teach us a love that is fierce and costly.
A peace that refuses to coexist with oppression.
A compassion that crosses borders, beliefs, and lines we were told not to cross.
Where fear rules, pour out courage.
Where lies are preached, raise up truth.
Where power crushes the powerless, stand in their defense, and move us to do the same.
 
Remind us that every life bears Your image.
That no law, no leader, no ideology ever outranks human dignity.
 
Make us restless until love wins.
Make us uncomfortable until peace is real.
Make us bold enough to say with our lives: this is not okay, and we will not accept it.
Heal this wounded world, O God.
And begin with our hearts.
 
Amen.
 
Yours In Christ,
Saul Ibbara, Jr.
 
 
 

I stood towards the far end of the practice field and looked across the field at Coach McFarland and Coach Broadway. They were having an animated conversation that I was pretty sure was about me. A few moments later my suspicions were confirmed when Coach Mac yelled, “Allen, come here!” I tried to run through every what-did-I-do-now scenario as I jogged towards him. As soon as I approached, no small talk, “Are you going into ministry?”
I proceeded to fumble over my words like a running back wearing oven mitts. How did he find out? I had only told Coach Hansbrough. Mario?!?! Up until that point, I’d been having doubts, wrestling for weeks. Was God calling me to be a pastor or to keep teaching and coaching? I guess this was the moment I was going to decide. “Well sir… actually sir… yes… yes sir. I believe God’s calling me into ministry.” Coach Mac smiled and Coach Broadway began to speak, “Well, I’ll pay for your seminary.” I looked back and forth at the two in stunned silence.

So God let me get this straight. In 1987 my family moved from Washington D.C. to Alpharetta, GA where I would attend Milton High School and meet Nate Webster who would convince me to play college football. While playing college football, my dad became head coach at Riverwood where I would become an assistant coach after college. While coaching at Riverwood my dad would die unexpectedly leading me to pursue teaching and coaching. Following one of Riverwood’s most successful seasons, my close friend would resign as head coach causing me to look for new coaching opportunities. Nate Webster would call me to see if I’d be interested in coaching at Roswell where he’s on staff. While on staff at Roswell, I’d become a follower of Jesus and accept a call to ministry standing on a football field.
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The story of my life is the story of a relentless God whose goodness has been running after me from my first breath to this present moment. In ways I cannot begin to fully grasp or understand, Jesus has been drawing me to himself not in spite of but through my life circumstances. Like Joseph, in Genesis 50 I have time and time again watched God use unlikely circumstances for my good and his glory. Today and in the week that follows I pray that you would glimpse the improbable story Jesus has and is writing through your life. I pray that you would be able to rest in God’s goodness and the assurance that he knows the plans he has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 

Yours In Christ,
Allen Hoskyn, Associate Pastor
Missions & Discipleship

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