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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
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