I like my office space here at the church. If you haven’t seen it, feel free to come and take a look at some point. The desk and shelves are a nice dark wood. When I moved here, the office was ready to be painted, and I requested a color called “tranquil green.” It’s lovely. When it’s time to write sermons or things like this, I close the door, make myself a cup of coffee, and sometimes play music quietly in the background. If you like anything I’ve ever preached or written, know that this space gets part of the credit. It’s peaceful.

And it’s never really quiet. Just to be clear, this isn’t a complaint but a feature. Old buildings make noises, and I get to hear them. Just as I’ve earned my growing collection of little wrinkles, and each sore spot is where a story was left behind, the same is true with every creak of this place. When folks walk by in the hallway or do something in the kitchenette, I hear it. When a car leaving the pantry drives through the puddle below my window, I hear it. When sirens scream up or down South Street, the space between our building and the Masonic Temple next door amplifies the sound. The wind can shake my windows just a bit. Rain or just the right kind of snow makes a lovely plinking sound. When the windows are open, I hear sparrows, blue jays, crows, the occasional red-tailed hawk and several other tweets and twitters. 

All these signs of life help make this place peaceful. No matter what kind of day I might have, this spot has become a centering one for which I am very thankful.

Lent invites us into a similar space. It’s a time to center in so that we can center out. It’s an invitation to reflect on the life we have so that we can more fully participate in the life that’s all around us. It doesn’t offer us a fresh start as much as helps us be honest about where we’re starting from. It doesn’t promise perfection, but it offers honesty about who we are and where we are on life’s journey so that we can seek out those places where God may be welcoming us. Places where God pats the seat next to her and says, “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you” and, together, you listen to all that life is and has to offer.