March 8, 2026
“The Lenten Heroes Journey”
Genesis 12:1-4
Introduction
One day in a pastoral care and counseling class in seminary the professor asked, “How do you want to die?” The class was understandably quiet for several moments, and I think would have been quiet for many more moments had not one of our classmates, and one of my very good friends who always had an answer to any question— whether it was well thought out or not. But on this day, he did indeed have a well thought out answer. To the question, “How do you want to die?” my friend said, “As a hero.”
Immediately I thought to myself, “Now why didn’t I think of that?” Isn’t that one of the best ways to go—as a hero? After all that is how so many characters and protagonists go in great works of literature… Willam Shakespear’s Hamlet, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
And that trend continues on still today… Tony Stark from The Avengers, Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter series, Spock in the Wrath of Khan, Han Solo killed by his own son Kylo Ren—who will later die as a redeemed hero in the Star Wars saga.
And let us not leave out the most gut-wrenching genre of hero deaths— those furry heroes like, Mufasa in The Lion King, Longclaw in Sonic the Hedgehog, the two hound dogs from Where the Red Fern Grows, as well as Old Yeller in Old Yeller. And the most traumatic furry critter death, Ewok Nanta who died during the Battle of Endor in Return of the Jedi.
The heroes death is such a ubiquitous piece to literature and film today because it invokes in all of us a reaction that not only has a lasting impression, not only an emotional impact, and not only in some ways an inspirational response, but it also touches us at our core because we see the heroic value and meaning and purpose that comes with a hero’s death. And I believe at the core of all the value, meaning, and purpose of a hero’s death is our deep understanding and belief that a hero’s death always leads to renewed and new life.
So if you’re bummed out by all this talk of the hero’s death, stay with me because in this season of Lent where many of preacher loves to talk so ad nauseum about the “Lenten Journey” I want us to begin to see that all of us are actually on a hero’s journey that leads yes to death, but then to renewed and new life. And the hero of the hero’s journey is each of us.
Move 1
Have you ever considered yourself to be a hero? Anyone? No one? No one sees herself or himself as a heroine or hero. Here’s why I’m asking those questions… Today’s Old Testament reading about Abram leaving his country, kindred, and father’s house is a story about the hero’s journey and Abram is the hero. And Abram’s hero journey becomes a guide to our own hero’s journey. God’s call to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” is meant to remind us of our own calling, our heroic journey.
When I asked whether you thought of yourself as a hero perhaps you thought of and compared yourself to the name brand heroes like I mentioned a few moments ago. Perhaps you thought about military and political leaders, or church saints, or those who do something extraordinary and often dangerous. Regardless of the heroes we thought of, our tendency is to associate heroes with action, events, and accomplishments done by particular people. And that’s certainly one way of thinking of heroes but there is another way. A hero’s journey is less about what you and I do and more about who we are becoming.
Let me put it this way… What if heroism is less about a specific action or event and more about a way of being? What if the real measure of our life isn’t what we’ve done but the degree to which we’ve heard and responded to the imperative to become who God is calling us to be in the face of what would hold us back?
Becoming more fully ourselves is the hero’s journey. And a hero’s journey takes strength, courage, and endurance. A hero’s journey is our Lenten journey—but it is also our entire faith journey. And it is such a journey because God is always calling us to become a greater fullness of ourselves.
Move 2
In today’s Old Testament reading country, kindred, and father’s house are holding Abram back from becoming more fully himself. Now don’t literalize those things. They are metaphors. Additionally, God will change Abram’s name to Abraham later on in Genesis 17. But it’s more than just a name change because it too is part of Abram becoming more fully himself. He will be made a great nation. He will be blessed. He will be a blessing. His name will be great. In him all the families of the earth will be blessed.
The journey God puts him on will change who Abram is and how he sees himself. The journey God puts him on will connect him to something larger than, and beyond, himself. None of that, however, will or can happen until Abram leaves his country, kindred, and father’s house and takes on his new identity and calling. And this is true for you and me as well.
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Abram is seventy-five years old when the Lord says to him, “Go. Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house.” For seventy-five years country, kindred, and father’s house have defined and identified Abram. They are familiar and predictable. They are a known quantity. They are easy and comfortable. They have shaped his life. They provide his life routine, rhythm, and security. They set the expectations, norms, and values for his life. They establish his view and understanding of himself and the world. They are the voices in his head. They’re all he knows. He has never left or ventured beyond them. For seventy-five years this was Abram’s whole world…but now God is telling Abram to leave them behind.
If Abram is to grow up, become more fully himself, take responsibility for himself, and live the life waiting to be lived, he will have to leave his country, kindred, and father’s house. And this is true for each of us. Just like Abram who set out on the hero’s journey, we too must leave behind everything— sometimes metaphorically, but sometime literally too.
Move 3
We all have our country, kindred, and father’s house. Who or what are yours? In what ways have you settled for and become comfortable with the life you have rather than opening yourself to and moving toward the life God is waiting to give you? What country, kindred, and father’s house do you need to leave today? What keeps you from leaving?
Here’s what we need to understand about leaving. Our leaving begins with saying, “No” so that we can say “Yes.” Abram will have to say no to where he is so that he can say yes to where he is going. Abram will have to say no to his country, kindred, and father’s house in order to say yes to himself and the one who has called him. But it’s an imperative to know, saying no isn’t a rejection of those things. Saying no is the recognition that they’ve taken him as far as they can. Saying no is the recognition that there is more to Abram and his life than country, kindred, and father’s house.
And truth be told, we know what that’s like, right? Haven’t there been times when you felt a restlessness, a longing, a sense that there’s more to you and your life than what is? Haven’t there been times when you had to say no to where you were in order to say yes to where you might go? Haven’t there been times when you felt stuck, stifled, or dulled? In those times you had to say no to a life that was too small before you could say yes to a next size larger life. Haven’t there been times when you said no to a job, place, or relationship because it was in some way holding you back or keeping your life small?
In those times you had to say no so that you could then say yes. We had to say no so that we could say yes because it is not enough to just say no. It is not enough to resist, protest, or object. Your no also needs a yes because it’s the yes to leave and open yourself to something new and different—especially when you don’t know where it will take you, what it will offer you, or what it will ask of you— that is the hero’s journey.
That is what God called Abram to do. God called him to say no to all he knew, to all that had taken him as far as it could possibly take him, and now say yes to all that would take him, and others, to blessings of new life.
Conclusion
The very first word God speaks to Abram is “Go.” And that is the first word God speaks to you and me today, right smack in the middle of this Lenten journey we are on. God is saying “Go. Go deeper into this season. Go deeper into your faith. Go deeper into the lives around you. Go be the hero I know you to be.”
Just like Abram we all come to moments in our lives when for whatever reason we must reconsider who we are—apart from our history, our roles, and our commitments.
So I wonder what it would look like, and mean for you and me, to more fully become ourselves. That is such a critical consideration for us to explore in this season of Lent, and beyond, because until we start to intentionally ask ourselves, and consider what our hero’s journey looks like, we can’t become the heroes God is calling us to be.
So let’s also ask ourselves… What is keeping us from our hero’s journey? What do we need to say no to so that we can begin to say yes to the new God is calling us to step into? What do we need to die from so we can rise up and live into what will be?
That was the hero’s journey for Abram. And it is the hero’s journey for us. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, March 8, 2026, Lent 3
Holy God, we gather in this wilderness season to confess how easily we settle into the “kindred and father’s houses” of our old habits, our comfortable certainties, and our self-reliance. You bid us die to the old ways of our own making—the habits that no longer serve us and the former versions of ourselves that we have outgrown. But we have to admit…so often we fear death.
Lord God, we fear the death of the ego and the loss of what is known. Yet we know that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone.
So we pray Lord, give us ears to hear your call to “go” and then bless us with the courage of the hero’s journey, trusting as we let old parts of ourselves die off, you are setting us on a pathway for new life to break through.
In this season of Lent, transform our “leaving” into a “becoming.” Make it that as we journey through these forty days, you will strip away the layers of our old selves that no longer serve your kingdom. Transform us not so we are merely improved, but that we are made into a new creation.
Guide us through this Lenten season, and beyond, until we are the people you have called us to be—fully alive and refined by your Holy Spirit. May we be blessed, not just for our own sake, but so that we may be a blessing to every family of the earth.
Like Abram O God, we step out in faith, not knowing exactly where we will go, but knowing faithfully who goes with us. So bless us to be a blessing. May the “great name” you promise to us be defined not by worldly status, but by the depth of our love and the radical nature of our obedience. Let our lives become a hero’s journey that points others toward your promise that when we die to our old ways, you bless us with new life.
We ask that you would listen now to the prayers of our hearts shared in this time of Holy Silence.
All this we pray in the name of Christ Jesus, who taught us to pray saying, “Our…”