February 17th, 2026

Dear Friends,

“Soil is enriched by all things that die and enter into it. It keeps the past, not as history or as memory, but as richness, new possibility. Its fertility is always building up out of death into promise.” (Wendell Berry, The Long-Legged House)

On this day before Lent begins (Shrove Tuesday, for those of you keeping track), in the spirit of cleaning things up and emptying things out, I think a few reflections might be in order, especially on the eve of Ash Wednesday, so called because, historically, it was the day on which penitents (those who were repenting of that which kept them from holiness) were marked with an ashen cross on their foreheads.

First, our hopeful images of Lent are primarily northern (as in northern hemisphere). You’ve heard that Lent comes from a word that means “lengthen”, which it does. Then, you’ve been told that it signifies the end of the death of winter and the lengthening days until the rebirth of spring. That metaphor may hold here but for our brothers and sisters below the equator, the opposite is true. Darkness is encroaching. Days are getting shorter. The “death” of their winter — whatever that may be — is approaching.

Second, the point of Lent is not to simply give up something we like and then grit our teeth and bear this insufferable affront for 40 days. God loves cheerful givers, not a forced or coerced gift (or sacrifice). The point of giving something up is not to manipulate or placate God. It is to do what those first disciples couldn’t do — to watch with him (see Mt. 26:38,40). It is to enter into his suffering — not to prove something (we can’t make God love us more) but to demonstrate something (that we actually believe that giving up our lives will cause them to be saved by God’s power and grace — that we trust him). By denying ourselves, we actually position ourselves to take up his cross each day, so as to be able to truly follow Jesus.

Wendell Berry understands this process of Lenten sacrifice and self-denial. We metaphorically place ourselves in the ground, dying to enter it. In this “dying” there is infinite possibility of new life. In this lonely “sacrifice,” we are worshiping and we are being united with Christ (and each other) in a death that produces life. We are not so much denying our bodies as we are contending for them. Their navigation system has become corrupted and they thoughtlessly go their own way. In these little acts of dying, together, we enable our bodies to submit to the care and supply of their Creator once again. When that happens, dying is gain; guidance is restored. And this is a truth that holds on either side of the equator and wherever the King reigns in his kingdom.

What part of your life needs to be seeded this year? What is keeping you from holiness?What unfulfilled promise awaits your dying?

Blessings!

Doug