Category: Catechesis

Rev. Eric Brown

Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God – 1 Peter 2:16

I was going to start this by saying, “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” But, it’s not a secret. Well, it shouldn’t be, but we treat it like it is, covering it up, not wanting to tell people about it, being bashful and embarrassed about it. We shouldn’t, but we do. Well, here it goes: You don’t have to impress anyone.

There it is. The great wonderful truth of the Scriptures, the great freedom of Christ that we in American like to bury, that we try to kill. You don’t have to impress anyone. When you go and live, you don’t need to impress a single person, and you certainly don’t have to try to wow God. You are free. When Christ Jesus died and rose from the dead for you, He freed you from the burden of ever having to try to impress anyone, because you are no longer judged by what you do, but rather by what He has done for you.

Live as a person who is free–free in Christ. This doesn’t mean “Woohoo! Now I can go be nuts!” I mean, you’re free, but that doesn’t mean you should be dumb, and all sin is at its heart dumb. Seriously. It’s dumb. It doesn’t really work out right. No, you are free to go and be a servant, to show love and compassion, and it doesn’t matter one bit if the world or the people around you think your service and love to others is dumb.

Because that’s the truth. The world thinks showing love is dumb. The world will think that showing Christ’s love to others will make you a sucker, a mark, and easy target. So what…you’re free! You don’t have to live for yourself; Christ lives, and He lives for you. You’re free of making yourself an idol and free to show love. 

 The self-righteous think that showing love is dumb. It’s not impressive, it’s not nice and clean. Showing love to your neighbor means meeting them at their lowest, and that’s icky. It means covering your neighbor’s shame with no one hearing about it, no one praising you. The self-righteous can’t handle that; the whole point for them is to be able to say, “Hey, look at me.” So what! You’re free. Christ draws your eyes off of even yourself and on to Him. You’re free of those self-justification games; free to show love.

The truth is, it’s all about what Christ has done. He has lived, died, and risen again. And He has done this for you. And He’s done this for your neighbor. And–this is pretty neat–He even uses you to give His own blessings of care, compassion, love, mercy, forgiveness to your neighbor. All that good stuff that He does through you and it doesn’t matter a hill of beans that the world doesn’t like it or that the smug don’t like it. You’re free–free in Christ.

Rev. Eric Brown is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Herscher, Illinois.

Kathy Strauch

I was baptized when I was 11 days old and cannot remember that specific day. What I learned, however, is that what is most important is remembering what God did for us and to us in our baptism. Whether we can remember the specific events of the day or not, God still remembers us and gives to us what He promises: the gift of faith, forgiveness, and salvation through Christ.

In the season of Lent, we travel with Jesus through His earthly ministry and through His suffering, death, and resurrection for us. In his book, The Gospel of Baptism, author Richard Jungkuntz states “The way, the door by which [Christ] has chosen to take us into His life is Holy Baptism.” During this season of Lent, I want to remember my baptism in every Scripture reading and in every sermon I hear. As baptized children of God we are united with Christ. As we focus on the redeeming work of Christ, we can remember how that work was applied to us in our baptism. All of what Jesus lived for us and won for us is given to us in our baptism. “We were therefore buried with Him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4).

In the Large Catechism, Martin Luther writes “Therefore, if you live in repentance, you walk in Baptism. For Baptism not only illustrates such a new life, but also produces, begins, and exercises it.” During this season when we focus on repentance, I want to remember that through Holy Baptism, God is continually bringing me to repentance and drowning my old Adam, bringing me to new life in Christ each day.

Even though we may or may not be able to remember the exact day of our baptism, this Lent we can all remember that we are baptized and are therefore united with Christ. Jungkuntz also stated, “He who is baptized must say, ‘I have died; that death on the cross is my death, my judgement, my hell.’ Only so is Christ’s death efficacious for me.” God remembers us and promises the forgiveness of sins and life in Christ, gives and sustains faith by the Holy Spirit, and adopts us as children of our Heavenly Father.

Kathy Strauch is a member of Faith Lutheran Church in Troy, Michigan and is a graphic designer.

Kate Olson

Lent provides an opportunity to talk about ashes, death, guilt, forgiveness, sin, baptism, and Christ. Log onto any social media site now and there is an abundance of blogs and posts discussing the purpose of this season in the Church Year. Lent brings to remembrance the reason the Word became incarnate. It also provides a special time to focus on repentance.

Lent is the season where we dwell especially on our own sin and repent our hearts out. God gives us that gift. It’s free. We get to repent. We wouldn’t be able to do it without the Spirit in our breast. We repent because we are preparing for the Gospel to be shouted from the rooftops-declared from every pulpit and at every altar on Easter. We don’t rejoice yet. We repent. Repent, repent, repent. Hang our head, tear our clothes, don the ashes, even on our very foreheads. We mourn our own deaths in the sickness that is sin, while being reminded of the other death we’ve been baptized into: Christ’s.

Lent is a gift. Every single sin has been completely wiped away. They are paid for. We can repent with full confidence during Lent. We can repent with full confidence anytime, but Lent provides that special opportunity to dwell on our own wickedness and repent of it.

But we’ve heard that before. The pastor preached that back on Ash Wednesday. If we listened closely, we would know he preaches that every Sunday. It’s pretty simple. So then, why don’t we repent? Why don’t we confess those deep, dark sins that eat away at our hearts in the midnight hours? They make us sick. They cause self-hatred and every manner of defiance in our lives. We swing between justifying those nasty secrets and mercilessly attacking ourselves for them. We all sin. We all have these hidden tumors. We don’t repent. Indeed, we pray God will hide the tumors so Christ, our Doctor, and His earthly shepherds won’t find them. After all, our cancer has been cured. Please, Christ, don’t go looking for more.

But why? What are we afraid of? The neighbor in the pew who will recoil from shock? But doesn’t he have his own sickness? Are we afraid God won’t forgive that one extra-vile sin? Or maybe we’re afraid of the temporal consequences. Perhaps we’re afraid that if we repent, we’ll have to give up doing the sin. And as much as we hate that sin, our Old Adam loves it. If we repent, we have to stop sinning, and we can’t stop sinning so isn’t repentance meaningless? How could Christ cover all of that? Sure, He forgives us. He died for us. He even rose again for us. But that can’t save us from everything that follows the repentance, right? No, it’s too tough. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.

What do we think Lent is for? What do we think repentance is for? It’s for THAT sin. It’s for THAT tumor! And we don’t have any reason to hide it from the Good Doctor. It doesn’t mean the terminal cancer is back. It’s what’s left over from the cancer that was annihilated when God “delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” (Colossians 1:13-14). Tell Christ confidently! We don’t tell Christ so He can pay for it. We tell Christ so He can remind us it’s already been paid for. We tell Christ so He can say, “Yes, and what of it? It cannot kill you. It’s already gone.”


The darkest, nastiest, most disgusting place in your soul has Christ in it, which means it can’t truly be dark. Be honest. Look at that sin, knowing full well that Christ already knows it. He knew it when His flesh tore on the nails. Repent confidently. It is already finished. And He has already begun the good work in you.

Kate Olson is a member of Mount Hope Lutheran Church in Casper, Wyoming, and teaches 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade at Mount Hope Lutheran School.

Rev. Dan Suelzle


“Remember me,” pleads the thief on the cross, “when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). These are words spoken from sinner to Savior-words which cling to life even in the throes of death. “Remember me.”

Lent is a season that brings these words into sharp focus. It is a season when we plead for God to remember His promises in Christ. It is a season when we look more intentionally at what our sin deserves, and how sin’s fatal reward is delivered in the flesh of Jesus on the cross. Luther calls the cross of Jesus an “earnest mirror”, for when we look at it, we see staring back at us, not mere physical pain and suffering, but even more, the wrath of God being poured out upon our own sin. At the cross, we see what our warring with God truly deserves-which is something we often forget. But our response to such a reality is not to make excuses for our sin. Nor is it to make empty promises to God that we will get a handle on our sin and do better next time. No, our response is simply to confess our sin for exactly what it is: hell-deserving enmity with God.

Of course, God does not leave us there in our sin. Jesus says to the thief, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Through Christ’s death and resurrection, God is faithful and just to forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9). The paradise of forgiveness and eternal life is yours today and every day, not because you deserve it, but because your God is a God Who remembers. He remembers, not your sin, but His promises in Christ. He declares to you, “I forgive you all of your sin on account of Christ alone.” These are words spoken from Savior to sinner-words that give life by destroying sin and death; words proclaimed from pulpit, font, and altar.

Such is the rhythm of Lent and is the rhythm of the baptized life: words of confession spoken from sinner to Savior. Words of pure absolution are spoken from Savior to sinner. We confess our hatred of Him; He promises His love for us. We plead for His mercy, and He freely doles it out. We remember our sin; God remembers His Son, whose merciful work on the cross separates our transgressions from us as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12).

Rev. Dan Suelzle is pastor of Grace Lutheran Church in Eugene, Oregon.

Rev. Aaron Richert

With the season of Lent often comes the question of whether or not to give something up. Paul encourages Christians to discipline their bodies and keep them under control so that they don’t lose the gift of salvation (1 Corinthians 9:24-10:13). He uses the analogy of athletes who deny their bodies certain pleasures as they prepare for competition. Think about it like this. When I was in high school I played basketball. I played intramural basketball in college, and even played for the seminary team for a few years. I was never in danger of getting an athletic scholarship or a serious look from an NBA team, but because I practiced and exercised every day, I held my own. A few years ago, after marriage and kids, I played in an alumni game at my high school. I learned quickly that after so much time away from the game I couldn’t do the things I used to. I couldn’t run as fast for as long, I couldn’t jump as high, I couldn’t shoot from the same distance. My skills had slipped from lack of use. When I was sitting in the bleachers, it was easy to see what the players were doing wrong and assume that I could have done better. But reality was a harsh judge. Once I laced up those sneakers for myself, I realized that I wasn’t nearly the player I thought I was in my own mind.

Giving up something for Lent can work the same way. The Augsburg Confession encourages all Christians to train and subdue themselves so that laziness does not tempt us to sin (AC 26).

I think many of us have felt the desire to avoid a situation because we are afraid to fail. Maybe it’s asking someone to prom, or auditioning for that solo, or applying for that scholarship. We stay on the sidelines because life is safer and easier there. Trying something is a bit more frightening, for it will show us whether or not we truly have what it takes. There is certainly a danger in giving something up for Lent if we think that by doing so we are earning God’s favor. But there can also a danger in not giving up something for Lent. It’s the danger of staying in the bleachers. It’s the danger of doing nothing to avoid failing. It’s the danger of convincing ourselves that we have no idols to be concerned with, that we have our sin under control, that we are doing just fine living according to God’s Law. It’s the danger of comfortable complacency.

Trying to give up something for Lent won’t make us righteous in God’s eyes, but it will certainly shine the light on the idols we cling to in this life. If it’s true that you don’t know what you love until you’ve lost it, giving up something for Lent is an opportunity to see just how attached we are to the things of this life. Can you go a week without your phone? Or without Facebook? What about pop or dessert or pizza? While we often wouldn’t think twice about missing church to go on vacation or to a sleepover, we miss our phones within minutes of putting them down. Giving up pleasures of the flesh for Lent is a chance to see the reality of our sin for what it is, and, in the words of Paul, to take heed lest we fall.

Best of all, it’s a chance for repentance. Whether or not you give something up for Lent, it is the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross in our place that makes us right with God. If trying to give something up for Lent shows me my sin and drives me to Christ, praise be to God for that. If I don’t give something up for Lent, I still have Jesus. It ultimately doesn’t matter what I can or can’t sacrifice for 40 days. What matters is the sacrifice of Jesus in my place. So give something up or don’t, but don’t sit in the bleachers and lie to yourself. Confess the reality of your sin and live in the joy of forgiveness, for that is what it means to be a child of God.

Rev. Aaron Richert is Associate Pastor at St. John Lutheran Church and School, Fraser, Missouri.

Dr. Jack Kilcrease

As a liturgical season, Lent is frequently described as a “journey to the cross.” Through the designated readings for the Lenten season and Holy Week, Christians are invited to trace Jesus’ journey to the Jerusalem and eventually to his death on the cross. Nevertheless, as important as our focus on Christ’s Passion is during this particular time of the year may be, in a larger and more significant sense, the Christian life of discipleship throughout the whole year must be seen as a journey with Jesus to the cross. As Jesus himself said: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Mt 16:24-25).

But what does it mean to follow Jesus to the cross? Throughout Christian history many people have thought that taking up one’s cross primarily meant adopting a particular lifestyle that might make them more like Jesus. For example, in the Middle Ages, many people saw that the Gospels portrayed Jesus as one who was poor and suffered a great deal. Therefore, they sought to live a life of poverty and suffering in order to imitate him. The major problem with this view is that Scripture never tells us to imitate Jesus’ poverty or sufferings. Even worse, by these make-believe good works people sought earn something that Christ had already won and given to them freely.

When thinking about the life of discipleship it is most important to center our hearts and minds on what Christ has done for us, not in any sense on what we believe that we can do for him. Hence, the cross we follow Jesus to is not primarily where we find out what good works we must do, but the place where Jesus manifests his love and promises us forgiveness, life, and salvation.

We come to this cross of love and promise through the Word and the sacraments. Therefore, Luther in his Large Catechism emphasized Paul’s teaching in Romans 6, that Baptism is the means through which we entered into Jesus’ death on the cross. In Baptism, we are united with Christ’s death. Through water and the word of promise, God executes his judgment upon the sin that dwells within us through the application of the merit of Christ and by giving us the Holy Spirit. As a result, we grasp the gospel’s promise of forgiveness and live a new life of holiness in faith.

Our entrance into Christ’s death and resurrection is complete and final in our Baptism. Nevertheless, prior to our earthly death, we live a life of endless tension between what we simultaneously already are through baptism into Christ and what we remain due to our birth as sinful sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. Therefore, the life of discipleship means daily entering again to into Jesus death. This occurs when we recognize our sin and repent of it, while at the same time trusting in the promise of forgiveness found in our Baptism into Christ’s death.

Likewise, dying to sin also means being resurrected into a new life of faith. Faith trusts in God’s word of promise, and therefore out of gratitude seeks to offer up our lives as a “as a living sacrifice” (Rom 12:1). In loving our neighbor and obeying God’s law, we follow Jesus to the cross by dying to our own selfish needs and desires for the sake of others. This act of imitating Christ is a response to what Christ has done for us. It is not the condition for Jesus’ love and acceptance of us.

Therefore, in the season of Lent, it is important for us to focus first on how Christ has sacrificed himself for us, receiving His gifts in the daily remembrance of our baptism, hearing His Word and receiving His Supper, so that we may in turn sacrifice ourselves for our neighbor in the service of love. In doing this, we follow Jesus’ command to take up our crosses and follow him.

Dr. Jack Kilcrease is a member at Our Savior Lutheran Church, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Bethany Woelmer

My cousins and I found much joy in playing in the mud when we were younger. We slathered our skin from head to toe with this smooth yet bumpy texture. We encountered every kind of meeting with mud you can imagine–from mudslides in creek adventures to fixing water pipes. We’ve done it all. And we didn’t mind getting dirty. No permanent marks, no worries, just a simple hose-down, and we were good to go.

When it comes to sin, there is nothing clean about it. It is forever a part of us as it infects our entire being with its dirt and grime. We think that we can scrape it off by ourselves, yet we despair with no avail. We are reminded during the Lenten season, beginning with Ash Wednesday, that to dust we are and to dust we shall return. We are essentially made of the dust of the ground because of the Fall into Sin. We wallow in it day and night, crawling from the depths of woe and crying with a penitential fervor, “Create in me a clean heart, O God! O Lord, have mercy upon me!”

Our journey this Lenten season is a journey through the mud of our sin, but it is one in which Jesus steps into the mud to take our filthy heart and all its sin upon Himself on the cross. We continue to live in this daily sin with cries for release, but as those who are redeemed we look to the cross and hear God’s Gospel that says, “I baptize you for the forgiveness of sins,” “I forgive you all your sins,” and “My Body and Blood given to you for the forgiveness of sins,” all in the triune name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

For you. In the thick of suffering. In the midst of sin. All Jesus. All His work. All your salvation. For you.

Luther once said, “Every time you wash your hands, remember your Baptism.” Every dust of sin is a part of us, but in Christ it is washed away. In Christ we are a new creation, and in Christ we return to His promises by faith. We all like sheep have gone astray and are covered in the murkiness of sin, but Christ has covered Himself with our iniquities and has given us a clean heart and a right spirit within Him.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence,
And take not thy Holy Spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation,
And uphold with thy free spirit.
Amen.

Bethany Woelmer is a member at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Topeka, Kansas and a graduate student in church music at the University of Kansas.

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard

The first and chief article is this: Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, died for our sins and was raised again for our justification (Romans 4:24-25). He alone is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29), and God has laid upon Him the iniquities of us all (Isaiah 53:5). All have sinned are justified freely, without their own works or merits, by His grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, in His blood (Romans 3:23-25). (Smalcald Articles II.I.1-3).

That right there is the heart of the Lutheran Confession. All have sinned. All have been justified freely without work or merit. Justification–becoming right with God–is something that happens outside myself, apart from myself. It’s objective. My redemption is in Christ Jesus, in the blood that He shed.

But that’s just the first part of the first and chief article. If this righteousness is outside of myself and apart from myself, then it does me no good. If the Lamb of God took away my sin and is nowhere to be found, if His blood was shed 2,000 years ago and is all dried up now, what benefit is it to me? So the first and chief article is completed: This is necessary to believe. This cannot be otherwise acquired or grasped by any work, law, or merit. Therefore, it is clear and certain that this faith alone justifies us. As St. Paul says: For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law. (Romans 3:28) That He might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. (Smalcald Articles II.I.4). Faith is the personal application of the benefits of the objective righteousness that is found in Christ. Faith saves because faith is not my own work, but the work of God for me and in me.

Nothing of this article can be yielded or surrendered, even though heaven and earth and everything else falls. For there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. (Acts 4:12) And with His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5) Upon this article everything that we teach and practice depends, in opposition to the pope, the devil, and the whole world. Therefore, we must be certain and not doubt this doctrine. Otherwise, all is lost, and the pope, the devil, and all adversaries win the victory and the right over us. (Smalcald Articles II.I.5)

Nothing yielded or surrendered. Christ died for our sins, was raised for our justification, bore our sins, redeemed us by His blood, all by grace, apart from works. Faith grabs hold of that righteousness and receives it as God’s work alone. And He does it all as gift.

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in New Haven, MO. He can be contacted at pastor.ehrhard@gmail.com.

Rev. Christopher Raffa

The season of Lent is an oddity today. We don’t know what to do with it. The American religious scene has essentially blocked it out–unable to incorporate it into its theology that is devoid of suffering and self-examination. Perhaps there are some who still recognize its key importance in the Christian life, yet even they are hard-pressed to admit it. The lamenting tongue is stuck to the roof of the self-righteous mouth. Maybe as we bury our alleluias, fold up our tents on the mount of transfiguration and head into the valley of Lent we can turn our eyes to the kingdom which is coming precisely in a glory we cringe to behold and a salvation that salivates from the seven-word Savior.

Our tongue and its world of unrighteousness is loosened by the Psalms of lamentation. Psalm 6, the first of seven penitential psalms, is profoundly terrifying yet profoundly comforting. It teaches us that in all trials and afflictions we must hurry to God. “O Lord, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath.” We plead not for the abstaining of the Lord’s discipline, but rather that it not be carried out with any sort of mercy. We know the Law must be spoken, yet we couldn’t bear for that to be the last word. So, “be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled.” The weight of the Law is a spiritual malady with physical repercussions. Everything about us–all that we have and are given–passes away before God because of our sin. Nothing is left. Naked and alone we stand, begging to be dressed by the gracious sacramental gift-words of our Lord. “Blessed are they who experience this in life, for every man must finally meet his end. When man thus declines and becomes as nothing in all his power, works, and being, until there is nothing but a lost, condemned and forsaken sinner, then divine help and strength appear, as in Job 11:11-17: “When you think you are devoured, then you shall shine forth as the morning star.” [Luther, LW 14:141].

The Lord is kindly disposed toward those who claim nothingness, who cry and lament unto Him. The Canaanite woman who laments unto Jesus is instructive. The Lord hears the sighs of His broken creatures, but when it comes to the babblings of supposed self-made men, He plugs His ears. Weeping, that is, confession of sin, a repentant heart is always preferred to working, and suffering exceeds all doing. In the Apology of the Augsburg Confession we read, “But God terrifies…in order to make room for consolation and vivification, because hearts that do not feel that wrath of God loath consolation in their smugness” [XII: Repentance]. Trials are the Lord’s alien work, not intrinsic to His nature, but are intended to break down our self-righteousness flesh and bring us to our knees that we might finally turn to the Lord and hear the mercy He desperately wants to give to us. For this reason, Luther, regards the Lord’s chastisement as “blessed comfort.” Strangely, hidden under the Lord’s wrath is His mercy; hidden under His chastisements is His goodness. The horror of human sin and the terror of the Lord’s wrath are real and they must never be blunted or denied.

On the basis of His steadfast love, the Lord has heard our plea for mercy. “For the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping. The Lord has heard my plea; the Lord accepts my prayer.” Nothing is worse than having our Father turn His face from us, washing His hands of us. Yet nothing is greater than having our Father turn His face toward us, and engraving our sin-filled hands upon His pierced hands, washing us clean of all iniquity. With the Lord, His face doting upon us, His ears attentive to our pleas, lament turns to praise. Indeed, the praise of the Lord doesn’t come naturally from the lips of the Old Adam. Rather it comes from the Lord who, by His promise-filled Word, creates a new and right Spirit within us–a New Adam to praise and give thanks for the unexpected joy that life has just begun–this in the day that we thought we would be ended by our sin and death. This movement from lament to praise is an act of the Lord’s creation, which like the first creation occurs ex nihilo, out of nothing, through the spoken word. To be moved from pain to joy, lamentation to praise, is to see and hear the true nature of your Lord, that He is gracious and merciful, and His steadfast love endures forever. Bowed down in the dust, the Father’s face shines upon you in His Son and by His Holy Spirit, raising you up to eternal and glorious life.

Rev. Christopher Raffa is the associate pastor of Pilgrim Evangelical Lutheran Church in West Bend, Wisconsin. You can email him at revcraffa@att.net.

Rev. Harrison Goodman

I hope you fail at Lent.

Jesus says when you fast, do not look gloomy sort of like I do when my wife tells me “When you take out the trash, don’t forget the recycling too.” It’s not a question of if. It’s a question of how. So during Lent, we usually end up talking about giving something up for a few weeks.

It usually sounds like one of two things. Either “aim low and you’ll never be disappointed” or “New Year’s Resolutions 2: This time I’m serious.” In other words, we either give up something dumb like chocolate, roll our eyes at how backwards Christianity is, or use it as an excuse to try and make ourselves better people. Hear John the Baptist: “Jesus must increase, but I must decrease.” Lent is not about you. Lent is about a Jesus willing to die for sinners. Lent is about the cross. If your practices in Lent are all focused inward, instead of towards that cross, you’re doing it wrong.

A Lent spent giving up something you’re not all that enamored with in the first place is just an empty motion–a Pharisaical prayer from the street corner that doesn’t accomplish anything other than letting you tell yourself you outwardly followed a religion. Of course there’s no reason to it. Of course you don’t get anything from it other than a chance to wonder why it all matters anyway. That’s because there was no Jesus in the whole practice.

Or maybe we could aim a little higher. Let’s try and do something better with our time. Let’s actually look at God’s Law and find where we fall short. What are my idols? What are my pet sins? Could I maybe tackle those? Don’t get me wrong. A Lent that is nothing more than a Christianized New Year’s resolution won’t save you. But hopefully you’ll try it anyway and fail. Then you’ll see the truth. We don’t know how bad we are until we have tried very hard to be good. Jesus died for failures. Jesus died for you. A Lent that points us away from our egos and our sins is a Lent that draws us outside of ourselves and shows us Jesus. He bore your sins and failures, your ego and your death upon a cross. I hope you fail so hard at Lent you die inside. Then, I hope you receive the crucified Jesus to make you live.

Rev. Harrison Goodman serves as pastor at St. Paul Lutheran Church, Carroll, Nebraska.