Lent began yesterday with the imposition of ashes on the foreheads of all who engage in the Ash Wednesday liturgy.

Often, a reading from the Hebrew prophet, Joel, is read aloud in that service.

Joel, trumpets God's call:

“'Even now,' declares the Lord,
'return to me with all your heart,
with fasting and weeping and mourning.'

Rend your heart
and not your garments.
Return to the Lord your God,
for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
and he relents from sending calamity."

I have been pondering what it means to "return" to the Lord.

What does it mean to return to something?

I think it means to come back to it, to make my way toward it, to point myself in a new direction, to go back to where I belong. It means to go home.

And if I am called to return to the Lord, it must mean that I have wandered away.

So, if I have wandered away, where have I wandered to?

This is the question that has been rolling around in my soul these last days as I consider how I might engage the six weeks of Lent in a way that might reorient me in chaotic and disorienting times.

Where have I wandered to?

I can almost hear God's voice, just as God asked Adam in the Garden of Eden after Adam and Eve had "wandered away" from God:

Adam, where are you?

Alice, where are you?

I am over here, God, consuming news like water. So why am I still so thirsty?

I am over here, God, giving into my ego's appetite for attention. So why I am still so hungry?

I am over here, God, looking for affirmation and attention from others so I can feel more solid. So why am I still so lonely?

I am over here, God, giving into social media's siren call for my attention. So why am I constantly scattered, distracted and behind?

I am over here, God, giving away my heart, my attention, my time, to all the things that constantly vie for my attention. So why I am still so far from what feels like home?

Alice, where are you?

What if Lent is about figuring out where we have wandered to and gently, like a parent turning a toddler around if they are headed for danger, redirecting ourselves back toward home?

Where have you wandered off to, friends?

Can you hear God's gentle question: Where are you?

Can you hear God's insistent whisper: Return to me with all your heart ...

God is not mad at us.

God just misses us like crazy and is heartbroken that we have wandered away from the only thing, the only One, who can satisfy our deepest longings, quench our deepest thirst, feed our deepest hunger and meet our deepest need.

Which is always and only our need for love.

Return home, my friends. This Lent, let's all return home.