On a beautiful spring-like winter day, I burned last year's palms. In a kettle in the driveway, I lit fire to branches used the previous year to wave praises in remembrance of the King of kings, the Messiah, entering Jerusalem. As the palms burned, I reflected on the meaning of Ash Wednesday. I thought of the traditional liturgy of this day that signifies the beginning of Lent. I wondered how this holy season has been cheapened in many ways as we proclaim words like "Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return."

I had struggled with preparing a bulletin and finding a liturgy that seemed to fit. The only thing I knew was we needed to listen, sing, and meditate on the ancient hymn "Kyrie Eleison," "Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy," as ashes were imposed on the foreheads of those who would attend the Ash Wednesday worship service.

God rewrote the message for me. Months ago, I had started with the story of Jesus' temptation. Here, in the temptation of Jesus, we face our temptations. We take a symbolic journey of 40 days, remembering his 40 days of fasting and temptation before his public ministry began. (Those 40 days don't include Sundays because the early church forbade fasting and penitence on Sundays—the day we celebrate the resurrection).

The temptation is where I had begun. But, as I said, God rewrote the message as I stooped there, burning those palm leaves. Tonight, we are going to start on Palm Sunday. We would remember the crowds praising Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, praising him for what they thought he would do for them, praising him with their own unknown and unrecognized hidden agendas--the temptation to make him into a god of our choosing. We were still going to read about the temptation and reflect on our temptations to make Jesus who we want him to be rather than who he is. But we were going to start with Palm Sunday. We were going to remember the palms that waved last year days before the same people yelled, "Crucify him." We were going to reflect on how those palms remind us of our own dusty hearts.

That is what we were going to do. God had different plans. Instead, many of us are staying home, listening to the wind howl, praying for safety for those who need to be on the roads. Today, in many ways, we have been forced to a stop. I know many of us will find other things to do in our houses—those things that have piled up and have been waiting for a breathing moment. Perhaps for the time being, even those things can wait.

Perhaps we can instead sit with the God of the universe and breathe. Maybe, just maybe, this is a time to listen to the one who wants to be real in our lives. Perhaps this is a time to ask God how we have made him in our image rather than allowing his image to penetrate us.

Kyrie Eleison, Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy, and help us walk with you!