Luke 18:17 says, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (ESV).

Here’s a fun fact: The common understanding of the forty days of Lent doesn’t factor in the Sundays of the season, which are excluded. Why? Because even in this time of penitence and general existence in our dark, fallen world, we still get to celebrate Easter! The Church Year is full of so many interesting features and practices like this that can help us better understand our faith—that’s why I wanted to share about a devotional resource that actively engages you in it.

Lent is a busy time for church offices—there are double the services each week, pre-service dinners before midweek services, and, of course, Easter Sunday after the end of Lent! Oftentimes, church workers can forsake their own Lenten reflections because of the busyness of the season.

“Everything will be okay.”

“Don’t worry. Be happy.”

“Hakuna matata.”

These feel-good yet frothy phrases center around an issue that is near and dear to my sinful heart: worry.

For some people, it’s Saturday afternoon college football marathons.  

For my parents, it’s Jeopardy’s half-hour slot.  

For me, it’s a Friday morning Zoom Bible study. My Friday mornings are sacred. I am busy. Do not call me. Do not email me. Do not WhatsApp me. 

“I don’t want to pray right now,” my two-and-a-half-year-old says. I know that these words don’t actually mean she doesn’t want the comfort of prayer, but she doesn’t want to go to bed. She’s tucked into her soft pink blankets, her purple bunny (affectionately called Floppy) is tucked under her arm, and her head is on the pillow. My husband and I are always flustered when this happens, even though it’s practically become a nightly occurrence. But we value prayer and so we press her to find something she wants to pray for (right now, we often thank God for princess dresses). 

When we have no idea what’s going on or what’s going to happen next, we can find our solid ground in the one who is the author of all things, who has a plan for our lives and well-being, and who promises to turn everything to good for His children, those who are “called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). He provides grounding through the people of His church, all of whom He has woven together in the tapestry of our lives as the Body of Christ. 

My three-year-old and one-year-old had just thrown F5-level meltdowns for the first fifteen minutes of church (some of it in the pew, some of it in the nursery, some outside … you get the picture). We somehow rallied and stumbled back to our tornado of a pew.

We long for deep community. We strive for healthy and helpful relationships with family members, church people, and neighbors. But if we’re honest with ourselves, especially as parents, we usually stay in that longing spot. We want the village, but we don’t feel like we can do anything about it.  

If you asked me about my earliest memories in the Dominican Republic (DR), I’d list being sandwiched between two then-seminary students farthest afield (Chile and Spain) in an airless backseat, a steeply inclined road with a sheer drop-off on one side, neon-colored chicks, and a little boy nestled between his grandmother’s legs in prayer posture.  

These snippets can only add up to one thing: visits.