Romans 6:5–11
5 For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. 6 For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—7 because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. 8 Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. 9 For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. 10 The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. 11 In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon
“I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.”

REFLECTION
As Lent draws near to its final days, the invitation becomes more personal and more profound: not just to follow Jesus, but to die with Him. The language may feel strong, even unsettling, but the apostle Paul speaks of it as a deep spiritual reality. Through Christ, our old self, shaped by sin, fear, and self-rule, is no longer the master of our lives.

Many of us want transformation without loss. We hope to become new while still holding tightly to familiar patterns, identities, or comforts. Yet the way of Jesus always moves through surrender. Something in us must be released so that new life can emerge.

To die with Christ does not mean withdrawing from the world or losing our personality or joy. It means allowing the parts of us that cling to control, pride, or false identity to be laid down. Lent invites us to name what we keep trying to preserve, the version of ourselves we are afraid to let go of, and to entrust it to God.

This is not a grim invitation. Paul reminds us that death with Christ is inseparable from resurrection with Him. The old self is not buried so that nothing remains, but so that a life shaped by grace can begin to take root. Each quiet act of surrender becomes a seed of hope.

As we near Holy Week, the question before us is simple and searching: What needs to die in us so that Christ’s life might grow more fully? Let us learn to kiss the wave that throws us against the Rock of Ages. 

QUESTIONS

Awareness
What part of your identity or story feels hardest to release into God’s hands right now?

Confession
Where have you been trying to preserve an old pattern or way of living that Jesus may be asking you to lay down?

Response
What would it look like this week to practice letting go, not out of fear, but out of trust in the new life God promises?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: A Prayer of Release

Each day this week, spend a few minutes with open hands in prayer.
Name one thing you are surrendering, a fear, a plan, an image of yourself, and quietly say,
“Jesus, I die to this so that I may live in You.”

Let the posture of your body reflect the surrender of your heart.

CLOSING PRAYER
Jesus, you entered death so that we might walk in newness of life.
Give us courage to release what no longer belongs to you.
Where we cling to the old self, lead us into deeper trust.
Teach us to die with you so that your life may be formed within us.
Hold us steady as we walk toward the hope of resurrection.

Amen.

Luke 9:23–25
23 Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. 24 For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it. 25 What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?

Paul E. Miller, J-Curve: Dying and Rising with Jesus in Everyday Life
“If dying and rising with Christ is the new normal, then when we encounter dying, we don’t have to collapse or withdraw into ourselves. We can be weak, even depressed. This frees us from our tendency to be depressed about our depression. Because depression avoidance is such a high value in our culture, when people are depressed, they think something is wrong. It’s a relief to realize that if we’re dealing with hard things, we should be depressed. Jesus models depression for us in his Passion as he is overcome by the weight of his coming death. Our modern obsession with creating a pain-free self lays a great burden on us.”

REFLECTION
As Lent moves closer to Holy Week, the path before us becomes clearer and heavier. Jesus does not hide where this journey leads. He speaks plainly: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow me.” These words were never meant to be symbolic or sentimental. In the first century, the cross was a public symbol of shame, torture, and brutal execution.

Yet many of us have learned to follow Jesus in ways that avoid discomfort. We want the peace He offers without the surrender He requires. We long for transformation, but hesitate when it asks something real of us, our pride, our control, our plans, or our security.

The way of the cross is not about seeking suffering for its own sake. It is about trusting that true life is found on the other side of surrender. Jesus does not call us to carry a cross alone; He invites us to walk with Him, trusting that He has already gone before us. He is not the prize at the end of our spiritual journey; He is the one walking beside us the whole way.

Sometimes the cross looks dramatic, but more often it is quiet and unseen: choosing forgiveness when resentment feels easier, remaining faithful when recognition is absent, surrendering outcomes we cannot control. Each small act of obedience shapes our hearts to look more like Christ.

Lent teaches us that the cross is not the end of the story, but we cannot reach resurrection without walking this road. And as we take each step, we discover that what once felt like loss becomes the very place where God forms new life within us.

QUESTIONS

Awareness
Where do you sense Jesus inviting you into deeper surrender right now, even if it feels costly?

Confession
What part of the cross have you been tempted to avoid, sacrifice, humility, obedience, or trust?

Response
What is one tangible way you could follow Jesus more faithfully this week, even if no one else sees it?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: The Hidden Cross

Choose one situation this week where you would normally protect your comfort or reputation, and instead choose humility, patience, or forgiveness.

Allow the sorrow to draw you near to Jesus. See Him on the cross and know that He see you in your sorrow and weakness.
Do it quietly, without explaining yourself or seeking affirmation. 

Let this act become a small way of carrying your cross with Jesus.

CLOSING PRAYER
Lord Jesus, you walked the way of the cross with love and faithfulness.
Teach us to follow you with courage when surrender feels costly.
Where we cling to comfort, give us trust.
Where we fear loss, remind us that true life is found in you.
Form in us a heart that walks your path, step by step, toward resurrection hope.

Amen.

Matthew 6:16–18
16 “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines
“Fasting confirms our utter dependence upon God by finding in Him a source of sustenance beyond food.”

REFLECTION
For many of us, fasting feels unfamiliar or intimidating. Some associate it with rigid religious duty, while others avoid it altogether because it seems extreme or unnecessary. Yet Jesus speaks about fasting in Matthew 6 as a normal rhythm of life with God, not if you fast, but when you fast.

At its heart, fasting is not about deprivation; it is about desire. It reveals what we instinctively reach for when we feel hungry, stressed, or restless. Food, comfort, noise, distraction, these things often become quiet ways we soothe ourselves. When we fast, we gently step away from those habits and allow our deeper hunger for God to rise to the surface.

Lent invites us to learn fasting slowly and honestly. Not as a display of spiritual strength, but as an act of trust. Jesus warns against turning fasting into a performance. The goal is not to appear serious or disciplined; the goal is to become attentive, to notice how much we rely on things that cannot ultimately satisfy us.

When we fast, even in small ways, we discover something surprising: our weakness becomes a doorway to prayer. The empty space we feel becomes a reminder to turn toward God again and again. Hunger, becomes a teacher.

Learning to fast is learning to say with our whole lives, “God, you are enough.”

QUESTIONS
1. Awareness
What do you instinctively turn to when you feel stressed, bored, or emotionally empty?

2. Confession
Has comfort or distraction begun to shape your daily rhythm more than prayer or dependence on God?

3. Response
What is one simple fast you could begin this week, not to prove something, but to make space for deeper attentiveness to Jesus?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: A Simple Food Fast

We invite you to join us for the rest of Lent in a Friday fast; fasting from Thursday evening through Friday evening. Or, if that seems like too much, simply choose one meal this week to skip or simplify.

During that time, spend time in prayer instead, quietly offering your hunger to God.

If fasting from food is not wise for you, consider fasting from noise, music, podcasts, or social media for a set period each day.

Let the absence remind you to pray:
“Lord, teach me to hunger for you.”

CLOSING PRAYER
Faithful God, you know how easily our hearts are filled with lesser things.
Teach us to fast with humility and honesty.
Where we seek comfort apart from you, draw us back into deeper dependence.
Shape our desires so that we long for your presence above all else.
Through this practice, form in us a life that trusts you more fully.

Amen.

Mark 8:34–36
34 Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35 For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. 36 What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?

Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction
“There is a great market for religious experience in our world; there is little enthusiasm for the patient acquisition of virtue, little inclination to sign up for a long apprenticeship in what earlier generations of Christians called holiness. Religion in our time has been captured by the tourist mindset. Religion is understood as a visit to an attractive site to be made when we have adequate leisure.”

REFLECTION
We live in a cultural moment that constantly tells us to look inward, trust ourselves, and build a life centered on personal fulfillment. The self becomes the authority, the place where identity, truth, and purpose are defined. At first, this sounds freeing. But over time, many of us discover it becomes its own kind of burden.

Jesus’ words in Mark 8 cut directly across this way of living: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” This is not a call to self-hatred or withdrawal from life. It is an invitation to freedom from the exhausting pressure of building everything around ourselves.

The tyranny of the self shows up in subtle ways, the need to control outcomes, the constant evaluation of how life serves us, the quiet belief that fulfillment must come from within. Yet the more tightly we grip our lives, the more restless we become. Jesus offers a paradox: the path to life is not self-preservation but surrender.

To deny ourselves is not to erase our identity; it is to place our identity back into the hands of the One who created us. Lent teaches us to loosen our grip, to step off the throne of our own lives and rediscover the peace that comes from following rather than striving.

In a world that tells us to become the center of our story, Jesus invites us into something far better: a life shaped by trust, obedience, and love that flows outward instead of turning inward. 

QUESTIONS
1. Awareness
Where do you feel the pressure to control your life, image, or outcomes right now?

2. Confession
In what areas might the self, your preferences, fears, or ambitions, be shaping your decisions more than the way of Jesus?

3. Response
What is one small act of surrender you could practice this week that reminds you Christ, not self, is Lord?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: Hidden Surrender

Choose one small, unseen act of obedience each day this week, serving someone quietly, choosing patience instead of reaction, or setting aside your preference for another’s good.

Do it without announcing it or seeking recognition.
Let it become a quiet reminder that your life belongs to Jesus.

CLOSING PRAYER
Lord Jesus, you call us to deny ourselves and follow you.
Free us from the weight of self-centered living and teach us the joy of surrender.
Where we cling to control, give us trust.
Where we seek our own way, form in us a heart that follows yours.
Lead us into the freedom found on the path of the cross.

Amen.

Luke 10:38–42 
38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” 41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

REFLECTION
Sin is not always loud or obvious. Often, it shows up as misplaced affection, loving good things more than we love God Himself. Throughout church history, this has been called disordered love: when our desires drift out of alignment with the One who made us.

In the story of Mary and Martha, we see this tension unfold quietly. Martha is not doing something wrong; she is serving. Yet her anxiety reveals a deeper disorder, activity has begun to crowd out presence. Jesus gently redirects her, not by condemning her work, but by inviting her to reorder her attention around what truly matters.

Many of us live lives full of good pursuits: family, success, comfort, approval, productivity. None of these are inherently sinful. But when they become ultimate, they begin to shape us more than Christ does. Our schedules tighten, our souls grow restless, and we find ourselves driven rather than devoted.

Lent invites us to examine not only what we do, but what we love. What captures our imagination? What do we reach for when we feel empty? What quietly competes for our trust? Where, as Lewis says, are we “far too easily pleased”?

Jesus’ invitation is not to love less, it is to love rightly. When our hearts are re-centered on Him, everything else begins to find its proper place. Disordered loves slowly give way to deeper freedom, and we begin to discover that surrender is not loss, but restoration.

QUESTIONS

1. Awareness
What good thing in your life might be quietly taking first place in your heart right now?

2. Confession
Where have you noticed anxiety, striving, or comparison revealing a deeper attachment beneath the surface?

3. Response
What would it look like this week to intentionally choose presence with Jesus over productivity or distraction?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: A Gentle Fast

Choose one comfort or habit you instinctively turn to, scrolling, background noise, constant productivity, or another small indulgence, and set it aside for at least the rest of this week. Or, perhaps, in boldness, set it aside for the rest of Lent. 

When you feel the urge to return to it, pause and simply pray:
“Jesus, reorder my loves.”

CLOSING PRAYER
Lord Jesus, you see the many things that pull at our hearts.
Where our loves have become disordered, gently draw us back to you.
Teach us to sit at your feet and choose what is better.
Free us from restless striving, and form in us a deeper love that begins with you.

Amen.

Mark 1:9–15
9 At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. 11 And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” 12 At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, 13 and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him. 14 After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. 15 “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”

Timothy Keller
“Repentance is not lessening your sin; it is deepening your awareness of God’s grace.”

REFLECTION
At the very beginning of His ministry, Jesus stepped into Galilee with a clear and simple message: “The Kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” Before miracles, before crowds, before the cross, there was this invitation,  a call to turn.

For many of us, the word repentance carries baggage. It can sound heavy, shame-filled, or distant from everyday life. Yet in Scripture, repentance is not about groveling; it is about reorientation. It is the moment when we stop walking one direction and begin walking toward God again.

Lent reminds us that repentance is not a one-time event but a rhythm of returning. We drift in subtle ways, through distraction, pride, comfort, or quiet compromises that shape our loves over time. Jesus does not call us to pretend these things aren’t there. He calls us to bring them into the light.

To repent is to tell the truth about our lives and trust that the Kingdom of God is near enough to change us. It is not driven by fear but by hope, the belief that God’s grace is strong enough to meet us in the brokenness.

This first Friday of Lent invites us to slow down and ask where our hearts may have wandered. Not with condemnation, but with courage. Because every act of repentance is, at its core, an act of faith: a turning away from lesser things and a turning toward the life Jesus offers.

QUESTIONS

1. Awareness
Where have you sensed distance between your daily life and the way of Jesus?

2. Confession
Is there a pattern, habit, or attitude the Spirit may be inviting you to name honestly before God?

3. Response
What is one small but real step of turning you could take this week?

WEEKLY PRACTICE
This Week’s Practice: Honest Prayer

Set aside five quiet minutes each day to pray Psalm 51:10 —
“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

Resist the urge to explain or justify. Simply name what is true and invite God to reshape your heart.

Ask the Lord, is there anything in my life that I must give up in order to become more like Jesus?

CLOSING PRAYER
Merciful Father, you call us to turn and believe the good news.
Give us the courage to see ourselves honestly and the grace to return to you without fear.
Where we have drifted, draw us back.
Where we are weary, renew our hearts.
Teach us to walk in repentance that leads to life.

Amen.

Psalm 90:1–17
Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. You turn people back to dust, saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.” A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night. Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death— they are like the new grass of the morning: In the morning it springs up new, but by evening it is dry and withered. We are consumed by your anger and terrified by your indignation. You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan. Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away. If only we knew the power of your anger! Your wrath is as great as the fear that is your due. Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, Lord! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.

C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

“Die before you die. There is no chance after.”

Reflection

Ash Wednesday begins with an uncomfortable truth: we are not as permanent as we imagine.

Psalm 90 is a prayer written from the long view of eternity. Moses contrasts the eternal nature of God with the fragile breath of humanity. Generations rise and fall like grass. Our days pass quickly. Even our strength is brief. The psalm refuses to flatter us, but it does not leave us in despair either.

Modern life teaches us to avoid thoughts of death. We fill our schedules, chase achievement, and distract ourselves from the limits written into our bodies. Yet Lent begins by gently placing ashes on our foreheads and reminding us: you are dust, and to dust you shall return. This is not meant to shame us; it is meant to awaken us.

When we remember that life is short, we begin to live more honestly. We loosen our grip on control. We stop pretending that we can save ourselves through effort or accomplishment. Mortality becomes a doorway into wisdom. You must, as Lewis says, “Die before you die. There is no chance after.”

Moses’ prayer is simple: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Wisdom does not come from having more time, it comes from seeing our time clearly. Ash Wednesday invites us to begin Lent with humility: to face the truth about ourselves and, in that honesty, to rediscover the mercy of God.

We are dust,  but we are dust deeply loved by an eternal Father. And when we entrust our brief lives to Him, even our numbered days become holy ground.

QUESTIONS

1. Awareness
   Where have you been living as if time were unlimited or guaranteed?

2. Confession
   What illusion of control, success, or permanence might God be asking you to release today?

3. Response
   What would it look like to live this season with a “numbered days” mindset, slower, more prayerful, more surrendered?
   

WEEKLY PRACTICE

This Week’s Practice: The Prayer of Psalm 90

Each morning this week, slowly read Psalm 90:12 aloud:
“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

Pause for one minute of silence afterward.
Let the reality of your limits become an invitation to trust, not fear.

CLOSING PRAYER

Eternal God, you have been our dwelling place in every generation.
Teach us to see our lives with honesty and humility.
Where we have trusted in our own strength, lead us back to your mercy.
Give us wisdom to walk through this Lenten season with open hearts.
Number our days, oh Lord, and fill them with your presence.

Amen.