Invitation to a Holy Lent

Andrew Guffey • February 13, 2026

Remember, you are dust.

Dear friends, Lent is upon us. So, let me make a confession. I have grown to really love Lent.


When I was growing up I didn't really have much sense of Lent, except that my Catholic friends didn't eat meat on Fridays, and our school served fish sticks.


But the further along in my earthly pilgrimage I've come, the more beautiful I find Lent.


Beautiful? Yes!


Lent invites us to begin again. Lent invites us to scrape all the barnacles off our ship, to wipe down the slate, to unburden ourselves of the heaviness, or all the unbearable lightness, of our lives. Lent begs for us to become more solid, more whole, more free.


What might happen if we were willing to imagine and experience Lent these days as a voice luring us away from distraction and busy-ness, drawing us into a life unencumbered by the clutter we have accumulated--the clutter of our dreams and expectations, the clutter of our fears and self-importance, the clutter of our guilt and shame? What if Lent is Jesus calling us all back to our own hearts, to God's own heart?


Lent is just that. Lent asks us to consider who we are and who we are meant to be. Lent is finding a treasure hidden in a field and selling all that we have to get that field. Lent is being a pearl merchant who searches and searches until we find that pearl that is worth everything that we are and everything that we have, worth giving up all of that. Lent is the summons to the fullness of life before God in Christ. Because, as we say on Ash Wednesday, we are dust and to dust we shall return. But dust of the most spectacular sort.


We are dust into which God breathed the Spirit. We are dust that lives. We are dust that has been made into a blessing, like the ashes imposed on our heads. We are to be the ash through whom the whole world is to be blessed. If we will be set aside all that blinds us to the glory of God that threatens to burst out of our own lives.


And how do we set all of this aside? We begin by being determined to see ourselves more clearly, through confession, self-examination, and prayer. We fast, cutting our consumption to the basics that we might remember we are more than that which we consume. We attend to the giving of alms, of seeking out those in need and doing what we are able to meet those needs. We meditate on the Scriptures, not because that is an interesting intellectual exercise, but because we believe that in some wonderful, unexpected mystery, they hold the Word of God for us. We pray. We pray for clarity of vision. We pray for clarity of purpose. We pray for purity of heart--to will one thing--that which God wills. We spend time to do all of these things, knowing that Jesus draws alongside us on this road and will reveal to us all that we had forgotten to look for, the blessing that we didn't think was possible, the riches of our humble living, the glory of our small lives. We do all of this knowing that God is merciful, and more--God longs for us, waits for us, whispers our name. If we will but turn and listen and take just one step.


Lent gives us permission to make of our lives what God wants to make of our lives.


Ash Wednesday is this coming Wednesday, February 18. At that service, it is my solemn duty and great joy to invite you to the observance of a holy Lent, with these words:


Dear People of God: The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord’s passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.


I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.


You are invited. What will you make of your life this Lent. Will you hear? Will you listen? Will you take that one step that places you one stpep closer to God?

Second Sunday in Lent | March 1, 2026

By Andrew Guffey • March 1, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.

Living Faithfully, Acting Bravely

By Andrew Guffey • February 27, 2026
Reflecting on Seven Years

Pub Theology 2/24/26 -- It's an illusion

By Peter Trumbore • February 23, 2026
We're building our conversation this week around the above quote, that has widely been attributed to English modernist writer and feminist pioneer Virginia Woolf. Before you ask, yes, we are aware that some of Woolf's views, especially on race and class, would make her persona non grata in certain circles today. But that said, the quote is worth thinking about. In some ways it is reminiscent of a quote from C.S. Lewis that was the focus of one of our conversations some eight years ago. Lewis said: "When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up." What both writers seem to be pointing to is the obvious truth that as we age we grow and change. Including our views, our ideas of how the world works, our preconceived notions of ourselves and others. And sometimes that change will feel like loss. What takes the place of those things we've lost? For Woolf, it's other illusions. This brings us back to Woolf's quote. What do you think she is getting at here? Are there illusions that you've had to lose as you've grown older and (hopefully) wiser? What might those be for you? And what about the other half of the quote? What kind of new illusions have we acquired as we've shed others? Finally, are there "comforting illusions" that you still cling to? And to make it a little provocative, is your faith one of them? Come help us sort it all out tomorrow evening. Join us for the discussion Tuesday, Feb. 24 starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.

First Sunday in Lent | February 22, 2026

By Andrew Guffey • February 22, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.

Ashes and Honesty

By Andrew Guffey • February 20, 2026
This is us.

Last Sunday after Epiphany | February 15, 2026

By Andrew Guffey • February 15, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.

Pub Theology 2/10/26 -- Yes to acts of kindness, but why random?

By Peter Trumbore • February 9, 2026
Every now and again we dip into the archives to bring back a topic from a past discussion. When you've been doing this for more than a dozen years, there's plenty of good stuff to revisit. So we're doing that this week, and it turns out to be a surprisingly timely decision. Next Tuesday marks Random Acts of Kindness Day (yes, really), and it turns out that nine years ago, almost to the very day, our conversation revolved around the idea of random acts of kindness. Since we last talked about it, the idea of random acts of kindness has become surprisingly institutionalized. According to the Random Acts of Kindness Foundation , which actively encourages just such things, "When we choose kindness, our brains light up with oxytocin, dopamine, and connection; reminding us that kindness is not just good for the world, it is good for us." And almost 250,000 people worldwide have signed up with the foundation as RAKtivists, pledging to try to make the world a better place one act of kindness at a time. For its part, the foundation, which aims to make kindness a norm, offers kindness tips and suggestions, creates teaching materials, and encourages kindness in our schools, homes, and in our workplaces. For example, when on social media they suggest: "Scroll until you see someone's creative effort -- a drawing, recipe, a photo -- and leave a genuine, specific compliment." To be honest, that sounds like a really nice idea! Here's the prompt from our discussion way back in 2017: In 1982 Anne Herbert wrote the phrase "practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty" on a restaurant placemat in Sausalito, Calif. Since then, the call to practice random acts of kindness has become firmly rooted in our social culture. So what's an example of this? When's the last time you were on the receiving end of a random act of kindness? What did that feel like? When was the last time you performed one? How did that make you feel? Is such a gesture really meaningful, or is it a way to avoid making kindness a part of our everyday lives and routines? Join us for the conversation tomorrow evening, Tuesday February. 10 starting at 7pm. We gather at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany | February 8, 2026

By Andrew Guffey • February 8, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.

Which Borders are Christian?

By Andrew Guffey • February 5, 2026
Where Did Early Christians Think Their Borders Were?

Pub Theology 2/3/26 -- "Deadbots" and the "digital-afterlife industry"

By Peter Trumbore • February 2, 2026
Just when I thought we had exhausted the possible universe of discussion topics about all the various and troubling ways that artificial intelligence technologies are promising to reshape the human experience (and rarely are these for the good) I come across another example that makes my head spin. This one is populated by what are called "deadbeats" being built by companies in what is coming to be known as the "digital-afterlife industry." There's a long article over at The Atlantic's website ( click here for a gift link to the story ) that goes into detail about the people and the companies developing the products that in some cases promise to make grief obsolete by giving users AI chatbot versions of deceased loved ones -- for a monthly subscription fee, of course. Or, in industry parlance, access to AI "deadbot" versions of those loved ones. And it seems that this is a lucrative technology. In 2024, the industry was valued at more than $22 billion, a sum expected to more than triple in less than 10 years. There are a lot of questions that emerge as we think about what all of this means for the way we experience grief and loss: "'Deadbots,' as these posthumous AI creations are known, promise to replace the dead, and the way they are remembered. This raises plenty of ethical issues, not least the extent to which turning deadbots into marketable products will rely on exploiting people in mourning. But perhaps the biggest question is how such a product might shift our experience of personal grief and collective memory. Is grief merely a painful human shortcoming that we haven’t learned to optimize our way out of yet, or does it have a purpose?" As the article makes clear, this technology is very different from the familiar ways we have come to memorialize those we have lost, whether through portraiture, literature, memoir, and so on, which are interpretive expressions of the living's memories of the dead. Instead, "Interactive griefbots are generative, producing “new utterances, new reactions, even new ‘memories’ and ‘behaviors,’ all under the guise of the deceased,” she said. This shift from representation to emulation presents a new ethical line, one that may require new legal protections. Both death and grief are states of profound vulnerability, she warned; the dead cannot stand up for their own interests, and the bereaved may not be in a psychological state to protect themselves from financial manipulation by a company incentivized to prolong their grief. One company, called You, Only Virtual, or YOV, says its point isn't to make grief easier, but rather to bypass it altogether. The company launched with the tagline, "Never have to say goodbye," and promises a user experience that will make you feel as if your loved one never died. In other words, they are promising not to capture every aspect of the person who has passed, but instead to capture how the user felt with that person when they were alive. The point of the interaction is "about inducing the emotions of the living, not imitating the emotions of the dead." We're going to talk about all of this in our conversation this week. Not just about the technology, but about grief itself, how we experience it, and what grief does to and for us. Read the article by clicking on the link above, then join us for the discussion this Tuesday, Feb. 3, starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.