This Lent, the Nebraska Conference of the United Church of Christ and the Nebraska Region of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) invite you into a shared journey: Neighbors on the Way.
Lent calls us back to a simple, demanding truth—we are called to love our neighbors. This shared UCC/Disciples journey offers a way to practice that call together across congregations and communities.
By registering, you will receive weekly Lenten resources that include:
– a short prayer to center your week
– a reflection and guiding scripture
– a simple practice for noticing, listening to, and caring for neighbors in your community
Week 1 — Who Is My Neighbor?
Scriptural Focus:
Luke 10:25–37 — The Parable of the Good Samaritan
Lent begins not with answers, but with attention.
Before Jesus tells us what to do, he teaches us who to notice.
In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the difference is not belief or intention—it is whether someone truly sees the person lying in the road. This first week invites us to slow down, widen our vision, and begin the journey by learning how to see our neighbors clearly.
No one argues with seeing.
And seeing is where love begins.
Prayer
God of compassion, open our eyes to our neighbors. Slow us down where we rush past pain and teach us to see one another with the mercy of Christ. Amen.
Reflection
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop and sit at the table.
We live in a world that moves quickly, sorts easily, and passes by quietly.
Lent interrupts that pace—and invites us to notice. Notice people with names, stories, and God-given dignity. Seeing does not require agreement or solutions. It asks only that we pay attention and resist the urge to look away.
I was reminded of that one Sunday morning while traveling to a preaching conference. A friend and I were walking toward breakfast when a man approached us and asked if we could spare some money for food. Without thinking, I said, “I don’t have money, but we’re on our way to eat. If you want to walk with us, I’ll buy you breakfast.”
He said yes. Then he asked, “Will you sit and eat with me?”
In that moment, the morning shifted. What I had assumed was an unwanted interruption became something else entirely.
He introduced himself as Little Jacques and began telling us his story—of loss, of instability, of trying to make it through the day. We listened. We shared a meal. We stayed at the table.
I left that encounter changed—not because of what I had done, but because of what I had been invited into. What has stayed with me ever since is that question I was asked: Will you eat with me?
It was a question that invited me to see interruption as a holy invitation—to pay attention, to notice, and to be present.
As we begin this shared Lenten journey, we practice seeing as an act of faith—trusting that God is already present in the faces we encounter along the way.
- Where might God be inviting us to slow down enough to really see a neighbor we usually pass by?
- What interruptions in our life together might actually be holy invitations—to listen, to notice, and to stay present?
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
- Each day this week, intentionally notice one person you would normally pass by.
- Offer a silent prayer: “God, help me see my neighbor with your compassion.”
For Congregations or Groups
- Gather these names in prayer—spoken aloud, written, or held in silence.
- Invite people to name individuals or groups in the community who are often unseen.
Week 2 — Hearing Before Speaking?
Scriptural Focus:
John 4:1–26 — The Samaritan Woman at the Well
If seeing is where love begins, listening is where love deepens.
Listening asks more of us. It asks us to slow our replies, loosen our assumptions, and trust that God might speak through voices we do not expect.
Listening is an act of love. Jesus listens across difference, history, and pain—and in doing so, creates space for truth to emerge. This week invites us to practice holy listening, trusting that God is already at work in voices not our own.
Prayer
God who listens, quiet our need to respond too quickly. Teach us to hear one another with patience, humility, and grace. Amen.
Reflection
So last week we talked about seeing.
And seeing matters. It’s where compassion begins. It slows us down long enough to notice who’s actually in front of us. But listening… listening feels like the deeper stretch. Because it’s one thing to see someone. It’s another thing to stay long enough to hear them.
We live in a moment that trains us to respond quickly. To have a take. To clarify our position. To defend it. Even in church spaces, we can find ourselves listening for the opening — the moment where we can explain, correct, or make our point.
I catch myself doing that more than I’d like to admit.
Listening without already composing a reply? That feels different. It feels slower. A little riskier.
When I think about John 4, what strikes me is that Jesus doesn’t open with a teaching. He opens with a request: “Give me a drink.”
He places himself in need. He invites a conversation. And then he stays in it.
She pushes back. She questions him. She shifts the topic to history and worship and long-standing division. And he doesn’t shut it down. He doesn’t rush to the end. He stays present.
There’s something about that pacing that feels important for us right now.
So maybe that’s the question we hold as we begin this conversation: What becomes possible when we listen without planning our reply?
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
- Practice one conversation this week where your only goal is to listen, not respond.
- Maybe ask one genuine follow-up question.
- Or reflect back what they heard before responding.
For Congregations or Groups
- Close your small group, bible study, or meeting with this reflective prayer practice:
- Each person offers one sentence: “Today/Tonight I heard…”
- Not what you’re still thinking about.
- Not what you want to add.
- Not what you disagree with.
- After each offering share a simple reflective line
- Each person offers one sentence: “Today/Tonight I heard…”
Week 3 — Staying at the Table
Scriptural Focus:
Luke 24:13–35 — The Road to Emmaus
1 Corinthians 12
The risen Christ is often recognized only after a long walk together. This week invites us to remain in relationship—even when clarity is delayed and certainty is elusive. Unity is not agreement; it is commitment.
Prayer
Faithful God, when the road is long and understanding incomplete, teach us to remain with one another in hope and trust. Amen.
Reflection
The Emmaus story begins with two disciples walking away.
They are leaving Jerusalem — leaving the site of their shattered hopes, their confusion, their unanswered questions. They had believed something beautiful was unfolding. And now they aren’t sure what to believe at all.
They are not triumphant. They are tired. They are trying to make sense of what has happened.
And the risen Christ does not intercept them with a lecture. He does not demand clarity. He does not rush them back.
He walks with them.
He asks what they are discussing.
He listens as they tell the story from their perspective — halting, incomplete, threaded with grief. He stays on the road long enough for their disappointment to be spoken out loud.
Recognition does not come immediately. It comes after miles of walking. After patient conversation. After the simple act of sitting down at a table together. Only in the breaking of bread do their eyes open.
So often we assume that understanding must come first — that clarity must precede commitment. But the Emmaus story suggests something different: sometimes we see more clearly because we stayed.
Paul’s words to the Corinthians echo this same truth. You belong to one another. Not because you think alike. Not because you agree on every detail. But because you are part of one body, sustained by one Spirit.
Unity is not uniformity.
It is a shared commitment to remain.
In a world that rewards quick exits, decisive takes, and tidy conclusions, staying can feel vulnerable. It requires patience. It requires humility. It asks us to resist the urge to walk away when things grow complicated.
And yet — it is often at the table, in the lingering conversation, in the space we almost left too soon — that Christ becomes visible again.
This week invites us to wonder:
What might become visible if we stayed at the table a little longer?
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
- Option One:
- Share a meal. And just be present. Put your phone away. Ask one honest question you don’t already know the answer to. And listen all the way to the end of their response.
- Option Two:
- Circle back. Reach out after a hard or unfinished conversation. You don’t need to solve anything. Just say: “I’ve been thinking about our conversation. I’m grateful we can talk about hard things.”
For Congregations or Groups
Emmaus Table Practice:
Invite each person to complete this sentence: “Something I’m still working through is…”
After each person shares, the group responds together: “We’re glad you’re here.”
Week 4 — When Love Costs Something
Scriptural Focus:
Philippians 2:5–11
Mark 8:34–35
Love of neighbor is not abstract—it costs time, comfort, and certainty. This week names the truth that discipleship asks something of us, not to diminish us, but to make room for new life.
Prayer
God of self-giving love, free us from fear of losing control. Teach us the courage of Christ, who gave himself for the sake of the world. Amen.
Reflection
Love sounds beautiful in theory.
We speak easily about loving our neighbor, about generosity, about compassion. But somewhere along the way the gospel becomes more specific. Jesus does not only talk about love; he begins to describe what love requires.
“Take up your cross.” “Lose your life to find it.” “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ.”
None of this language is comfortable. And perhaps it isn’t meant to be. The pattern of Christ’s life, described in Philippians, is a pattern of self-giving. Not self-erasure—but a willingness to release power, status, and certainty for the sake of love. Christ does not cling. Christ gives.
In a culture that teaches us to protect what is ours—our time, our comfort, our resources—this kind of love can feel risky. We worry that if we give too much there will be nothing left. But the gospel keeps telling a different story. The way of Christ is not about losing ourselves into emptiness. It is about making space for something larger than ourselves to take root.
Sacrifice, in the Christian imagination, is not primarily about suffering. It is about offering. It is the quiet, daily decision to place love ahead of convenience, to remain present when it would be easier to withdraw, to share what we have without calculating what we might receive in return.
Most of the time this kind of love does not look dramatic. It looks like patience, or courage in small decisions; it looks like showing up. And again and again, in the mystery of God’s economy, what is given away becomes the place where new life begins.
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
Give something tangible this week with expecting anything in return.
It might be time.
It might be money.
It might be presence.
A quiet act of generosity that reflects Christ’s self-giving love.
For Congregations or Groups
A Shared Offering
Place a simple basket, bowl, or container in the center of the table/room.
Invite participants to write one word or phrase on a slip of paper describing something they feel called to offer this week:
Examples: time, patience, forgiveness, attention, courage, etc.
Place the slips in the bowl as a symbol of shared commitment.
End with prayer: “God, receive these offerings. Use them for the healing of your world.”
Week 5 — Healing the World God Loves
Scriptural Focus:
Micah 6:8
Matthew 25: 31-46
God’s vision is not only personal salvation, but communal healing. This week invites us to notice where love of neighbor can become love in action—repairing what has been broken and restoring what has been neglected.
Prayer
God of justice and mercy, show us where the world is wounded. Guide our hands and hearts
toward repair, restoration, and hope. Amen.
Reflection
There is a phrase in Jewish tradition that has found its way into the heart of many Christian communities: tikkun olam — the repair of the world.
The rabbis taught that when God created the world, something shattered. Light that was meant to fill vessels too small to hold it spilled out, scattered across creation in fragments. And the task given to human beings — the sacred, ordinary, daily task — is to gather those fragments. To repair what is broken. To restore what has been lost.
I find myself returning to that image often. Maybe because it rings so true to the world I move through — and to my own life.
We know what it is to live among scattered light. We see it in fractured relationships, in communities that have grown distant from one another, in systems that wear people down. We feel it in the unfinished conversations, the apologies not yet offered, the places where we know something isn’t right and haven’t quite found the courage to move toward it.
Micah asked: What does the Lord require of you? The answer was not impressive. It was not a program or a position or a perfectly worded statement. It was a way of walking — justly, kindly, humbly.
Repair looks a lot like that. Small. Particular. Often quiet. Less about grand gestures and more about showing up, again, in the direction of healing.
This week, we’re asking what it means to participate in God’s work of mending — as neighbors who notice what is broken and take one faithful step toward it.
The light is still out there, scattered and waiting.
And somewhere, right now, someone is already bending down to pick it up. The invitation this week is to join them.
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
As always in Neighbors on the Way, we try to end with a suggestion of one small practice that you might try this week. This invitation is simple: It might be time.
Fix one small thing this week.
Sew a button.
– Return a borrowed item.
– Mend something broken in your home.
– A quiet act of generosity that reflects Christ’s self-giving love.
As you do, pray quietly:
“God of mercy, teach me to listen with humility, speak with kindness, and help mend what is broken.”
Let the physical act become a spiritual one.
For Congregations or Groups
A Shared Offering
Provide sticky notes and invite people to write one thing that needs repair — in the world, in a relationship, or in themselves.
Post the notes on a wall or board.
At the end, gather around the wall and offer a brief prayer for healing.
Week 6 — Still Neighbors, Still One Body
Scriptural Focus:
John 20:19-23
Matthew 28:16-20
Resurrection does not erase the road behind us—it sends us forward, changed. This final week invites us to carry what we’ve practiced into Easter and beyond, as neighbors shaped by Christ’s love.
Prayer
Sending God, do not let us rush past this journey. Send us out still bound to Christ, still bound to one another, still committed to love. Amen.
Reflection
The door is locked.
That is where the story begins — not with triumph, not with certainty, but with people huddled in an ordinary room, afraid. They have heard the reports. Some of them have seen the empty tomb. And still the door is locked.
Jesus does not knock.
He simply appears — and the first thing he says is not well done or I told you so. He says: Peace. And then, before they have had time to become anything other than what they are — still confused, still grieving, still very much themselves — he says: As the Father has sent me, so I send you.
The sending does not wait for readiness.
We have spent these weeks of Lent practicing ordinary things: noticing who lives beside us, learning to listen before we speak, staying at tables that cost us something, asking what healing might require of us. These were not preparations for some future moment of arrival. They were the way itself. They still are.
What would it mean to carry that into Holy Week — not as a completed lesson, but as a living question? The way of Christ passes through humility and through wounds that do not disappear. The risen Jesus still bears the marks of the nails. Resurrection does not erase what love has cost. It transforms it into something we can be sent with.
So here is the question the upper room leaves us:
Are you willing to go — not when you are ready, but now, as you are, from whatever locked room you have been keeping?
The Spirit breathes. The door opens from the inside.
Still neighbors. Still one body. Still sent into the world God loves.
Simple Practices
Choose one practice that fits your life or community.
For Individuals
Participate in Holy Week worship or prayer across congregations where possible.
Find a service at a neighboring church — a tradition different from your own — and show up. Or pray alongside your community in a new way. Let Holy Week itself be a practice of neighboring.
For Congregations or Groups
A Shared Offering
Gather in a circle. Take a moment to reflect quietly on this Lenten journey. Where have you seen love? What have you received from this community?
When you are ready, invite each person to turn to someone nearby and offer a simple blessing: “You are sent in love. You are not alone.”
Take your time. Let each voice be heard.
When all have been blessed, remain standing and say together:
We are still neighbors.
We are still one body.
We are sent into the world God loves.
Close with a brief prayer and go into Holy Week in peace.
Each week will also include an optional Zoom conversation for participants across the Conference and Region—a space for listening, reflection, and connection as we walk the Lenten road together.
This journey is not about uniformity, but about remaining faithful together, opening our eyes and hearts in Christ’s love.
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