I think that it is probably a truism that most of us are searching for, and trying to find, a source of direction for our lives. I mean, if you are like me, you probably have something like a to-do list for each day, even if not actually written down as such. And so, guided by that, we process through the day, often being quite busy, but not necessarily having an overall purpose or focus or direction. (Maybe you're not like me, but sometimes I end the day trying to remember what I've done--or accomplished--that day, and wondered where it is taking me). Maybe I'm off the mark in saying this, but if I am on mark, hear me out.

Today's passage does give us a sense of direction, the very same one that is named in the Shema, the "hear, O Israel.' Our lives are to have two focuses, love of God and love of neighbour, and what holds the two together, in a kind of dynamic tension, is the nature and character of God. We love God because He loves us, because of what He has done for us, and, we love our neighbour, again for the very same reason, because of what He has done for us. Because He loves us in such an incredible way, we want to reciprocate by both loving Him and loving our neighbour.

But here it gets tricky. Just how are we to love our neighbour? Someone once asked Jesus that question and Jesus replied with the Parable of the Good Samaritan. What came out of that was that to love our neighbour was to act in a way towards that neighbour that was ultimately good and helpful to the person, in a way that was caring. So it was not a matter of 'feeling' kindly or well disposed towards that person, much less actually liking that person. Instead, it was an act of will rather than of emotion, a decision.

So, maybe that is a direction for all of us this Lent: how do we act in kindly, helpful, caring ways towards those around us, yes, even towards those who irritate us or grate on our nerves, or with whom we don't agree or don't particularly like.

And loving God: here in today's passage we are told how to do this: to honour and respect Him, to worship and pray to Him, and to obey Him and serve Him. Again, another very useful 'exercise' for us to 'take on' this Lenten season.

One of the issues that I continually wrestle with is the matter of accountability. Far too often, it seems to me, people are not held accountable for their actions or decisions. Their actions and decisions are excused or explained away because of extenuating factors such as addictions or mental health issues or upbringing or life experiences or associates or family background. And, while I feel that such factors certainly need to be considered and brought 'into the mix', it sometimes seems as if the person's accountability, the decision that he or she made that resulted in the action or decision is lost in the proceedings.

Today's passage, however, does no such thing. It alleges that we are all responsible for the choices we make--for better or for worse. And so it is a good thing for us, individually and corporately, to reflect on those choices. And what better time to do this than Lent.

Psalm 139 tells us that God knows our thoughts, our hearts, and our every move--even before they take place. That could be quite intimidating, even frightening, for us mere mortals--to think that the Almighty One knows all this! But, then, on another level, it can be quite reassuring, even welcome. It means that with God and us there are no surprises, and thus, no need for us to try to hide anything from Him. God knows exactly what He's 'up against' and what He has 'to work with' as far as we are concerned. And, it also means that He can take everything into account, even things that we don't even know about, and treat us accordingly--that is with understanding and sensitivity. And surely, that should be most welcome as far as we are concerned.

Royal weddings, especially those of the British royal family, have always had a special interest for me, such that I have often been peeled to the 'telly' even when the different time zones meant a rather unwieldy time in the night or morning. Today's psalm also describes a royal wedding, but there's a twist, something we seldom would have even thought about otherwise. Christian commentators over the centuries have seen the king in this psalm as being Christ, and we, you and I, as the bride. So, who among us has even thought of ourselves as being 'married' to the king of kings, Jesus? That realization would obviously put a different slant to our relationship with Him, and perhaps even cause a change of thinking and behaviour. Just something to ponder and think about, a great exercise for Lent.

One of my favourite authors, a French abbe and pastor named Michel Quoist, wrote a book of poems entitled, 'Prayers'. In it, there is an eloquent reflection on the Virgin Mary and her willingness to submit to the will of God. In it, there are some most memorable lines:

"I need your 'yes' as I needed Mary's 'yes' to me to earth, for it is I who must do your work...I need your 'yes' to be united with you and to come down to earth, I need your 'yes' to continue saving the world!"

That is what Mary's example in today's gospel reading reminds us. She needed to say 'yes' to Jesus, and so too do we all.

People may sometimes wonder about us clergy and what goes through our minds during a worship service, especially when there seems to be an embarrassingly long pause in the flow of the service. A number of years ago when this happened to me--in the midst of the Prayer Book eucharistic prayer no less--the cause was a sudden and surprising revelation. I don't know exactly what words prompted it but the realization was that Jesus had been through everything, yes, everything, that we will ever go through. Through hunger and thirst and disappointment and betrayal and a whole bunch more. And yes, even down to being tempted. In fact, the Scriptures say that He was tempted in every way that we are. It just goes to show just fully He became human, how fully He wanted to become one of us, and how fully He understands and sympathizes with everything we go through. Today's passage and meditation remind us of that.

Years ago, someone--I think it was Frankie Schaeffer--wrote a book with a title something like, "How then shall we live?" That is exactly what today's Scripture passage and meditation are about. And, as such, it is a rather appropriate theme and exercise for this season of Lent, when we are invited to 'observe a holy Lent by self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, and by reading and meditation on the word of God" (BAS p. 282). And, of course, all of that is set in the context of what God in Christ Jesus has done for us, for saving us and redeeming us by His death and resurrection and cleansing us and equipping us by His Holy Spirit.

Leadership is a key issue in our world today, but not just in government, the more or less public sphere, but also within our more intimate connections--such as the church. The apostle Peter thought that it was so important that he didn't want to leave even one vacancy left unfilled in the leadership role in the fledging church. And what was to be that new leader's role? To be a witness to the resurrection! And isn't that exactly what we are all to be about. And, then, apparently, that new leader appears to disappear from public view. And what is he probably doing? Just being a witness to the resurrection, quietly and without any fanfare--which is exactly what we can all do.

Here we are, standing on the cusp of yet another season of Lent, and what could be a better time than to look at our faith, particular the practice thereof, and see if we are drifting away from fully living it out in our lives. That is what today's meditation is all about.

Probably most of us like to be recognized, honoured, and respected, but then the question must inevitably arise: 'is that what we live for?' Or, do we live for something bigger, and better, than something that is essentially only self-affirming, selfish? Do we ultimately live just for God? Those are some good questions, ones raised by today's passage, and ones that are well worth looking into.

Well do we proclaim it, but do we actually believe it? What I'm referring to is the idea that God is the God of the impossible. We mouth words to this effect, but do we take it seriously--and, do we act upon it? These are excellent and timely questions, so I suspect that for all our words, we often leave God out of the picture and basically dismiss the possibility of His doing anything. Instead, we turn either to ourselves and our resources, or to other people. If you don't believe this to be true, just look at the problems besetting our families, churches, community, nations and the wider world. How often do we go to God in prayer with regards to them?

Today's passage speaks of God being the God of the impossible in rather grandiose terms. I mean, who can actually believe that Jerusalem will one day be characterized by peace? Or that wild animals will no longer fight each other tooth and nail? Certainly, such things seem quite impossible. But they are exactly the kind of revolutionary about-face that God promises. Wow.

If you're at all like me, you don't know what to make of such promises. But what they do say, is that God is able to do far more than I have ever asked or imagined, and so I do indeed need more frequently to go to Him for help.

One never knows the impact you will have on someone else. In one of my previous parishes, an old friend and colleague of my grandfather told me that my grandfather was the greatest man he ever knew and another person--same parish--said that it was only because of my grandfather that she was able to survive after the sudden death of her husband. And, I know that many teachers have had the experience of former students coming to them--I know that my mother did--and being told how much they meant to them. And even here at St. John's a man owed his very life to a small group of people from the early service. This man had come to church with the thought of making his peace with God and then going out to end his life--but because he was made to feel welcomed and loved and included by these people, he decided to change his mind. And, it was just something little, something pretty ordinary, that made the difference. None of those people even recognized at the time that they had done something profound and life-changing. So it is with much of our words and actions. We never know just what impact we will have.

We, as Christians, as followers and disciples of Jesus Christ, can easily pay lip service to knowing Him and knowing and doing His will. But, do we really spend the time in prayer getting to know Jesus personally and intimately? And, do we, as the psalmist suggests, and moreover appears to live, delight in His word and His laws and dedicate ourselves to understanding them and then carrying out His will in our lives. Our psalmist appears to dedicate himself to this noble pursuit. The question is, “Do we?”

My meditation for today, and its accompanying Scripture passage, touches on the subject of fruitfulness, which is, to my way of thinking, a rather important and crucial question for today's Christian church. Let me put it this way: Is the church reaching out effectively with the good news of Jesus Christ to yet untouched, unconverted populations? Is the church growing on account of these new converts, or merely because of transfers from other churches or because of births from already existing members? Is the church effectively discipling and growing new members in their faith? Is the church effectively rebuilding or healing relationships and making a positive impact on families and communities? Is the church effectively working for justice and for God's kingdom in this world? I'm not sure whether I can answer 'yes' to all these questions, but will leave you to answer these questions on your own. They are some good things to think about.

Today's meditation spoke rather forcibly to me today, as I am a person who is in the habit, unfortunate or not, of greatly prizing and holding on to the past. That is why I have copious files and papers from times past, plus journals. And that is why I relish researching the history of the local church community or of my family. It gives me a sense of belonging (of where I fit in) and a sense of identity. But, as the apostle Paul points out, all this can, potentially, rob us of fully entering into the present and into the new things that God is about to do. Anyway, that is my struggle.

Today's passage and meditation centre on the question of choices, the choices we make with our lives. They focus particularly on the impact that these choices make on our own individual lives. But what isn't mentioned is that they also make an impact on our families and friends, our church and wider community, and on the world in general. None of us is powerless and none of us can claim to have no impact or influence on someone or on the world around us. And so our choices are crucial.