Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people. For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. The saying is trustworthy, and I want you to insist on these things, so that those who have believed in God may be careful to devote themselves to good works. These things are excellent and profitable for people.

Titus 2:11-15 ESV

Recently our front yard has quietly been taken over by wild onions. They're everywhere right now. From a distance they almost look intentional, like part of the landscape. But when you get closer, you realize how invasive they are. They multiply underground. They spread quietly. And unless you dig deep enough to pull out the bulb, they just keep coming back.

The troubling thing isn't just that they spread. It's what they displace. Whatever was planted there, whatever was meant to grow, gets crowded out. The onions don't just invade. They uproot everything else.

As I stood there staring at them, it struck me how easily something unwanted can take over when the soil is left unattended. Not just in a yard — but in life. Left alone long enough, ideas multiply. Reactions harden. Habits root themselves beneath the surface. And before we know it, what once felt small has quietly shaped the whole landscape and displaced whatever was meant to be.

Lent is the season that asks us to look closely at the soil. We live in a world of endless options and constant distraction. We can access almost anything at any time. Yet beneath the surface there is often a quiet ache for meaning, for belonging, for something steady beneath our feet. When we feel displaced, when the true roots have been crowded out — we tend to grasp. We reach for identity, achievement, tribe, outrage, or approval to anchor us. But these are thin roots. They cannot hold the weight of a human soul. When a plant is uprooted, it withers. When a person is uprooted, they grasp.

Paul's words to Titus are the kind of deep soil work that gets at the actual root.

He urges Titus to remind believers how to live in the world, not with arrogance or hostility, but with gentleness, humility, and readiness to do good. Christians are to be subject to rulers, peaceable, considerate, and gracious toward all people.

Why? Because we were once the same.


Then comes one of the most beautiful transitions in all of Scripture:


Salvation is not rooted in our moral improvement. It flows from divine mercy. God washes, renews, and pours out His Spirit generously through Jesus Christ. We are justified by grace and made heirs of hope.


This is the true root. Not what we have built or achieved or defended. Mercy. Grace. The kindness of God appearing in Christ.

And because this is true, we devote ourselves to doing what is good.

But the order matters. We are saved by mercy, renewed by the Spirit, and then called to good works. Good works are not the root of salvation — they are its fruit. In a world that constantly pressures us to construct ourselves, justify ourselves, defend ourselves, prove ourselves, brand ourselves, perform ourselves, and never for a moment appear to be without an answer, Paul gives us a different foundation. We are not self-made. We are re-made. Not through performance, but through mercy.

Grace roots us where achievement never could.

This passage also presses gently against our tendency to divide the world into "us" and "them." Paul doesn't argue against it, he just reminds us who we were. Foolish. Deceived. Enslaved. That's not flattering, but it's leveling. It's hard to look down on someone when you remember standing in the same place. Grace doesn't produce people who have it all together. It produces people who know they don't have to. And yet somehow that's what makes them gentle. It’s not weakness, it’s not niceness, but rather the deep settledness of people who aren't grasping anymore. It is the root that holds.

Lent has a tendency to strip away illusions, especially the illusion that we are better than we are. But it also exposes the deeper problem: how easily we become displaced from the very thing that grounds us. The invasions are real. The distractions multiply. The thin roots spread.

But the mercy of God is deeper still.

Lent is not about becoming impressive. It is about coming back to the root, and finding it has held us strong all along.

A Practice to Love God: Practice confession and gratitude.
Each day this week, take five minutes to confess honestly before God where you have fallen short. Then immediately thank Him for His mercy. Let confession lead to gratitude, not shame.

• Consider each day, writing 15-20 things you are grateful for.

A Practice to Love Neighbor:  Perform one unseen act of kindness.
Do something intentionally good for someone without announcing it to them, or anyone else. Consider Matthew 6:3 and what this truly looks like.

Reflect on Titus 3:1–8 together as a family, couple, or small group. Where does Paul’s call to gentleness and courtesy feel most challenging right now? Confess pride or defensiveness in a trusted community. Pray for one another that your lives would be marked by humility and good works flowing from grace.

To learn more about prayer, click here.

Merciful God,
When I forget who I once was, humble me.
When I forget what You have done, remind me.
Thank You that I am saved not by my effort,
but by Your kindness and love.

Renew me by Your Spirit.
Make me gentle where I am harsh,
patient where I am reactive,
and eager to do good not for approval,
but because I belong to You.

Root me deeply in Your mercy.
Shape my life into a reflection of Your grace.
Amen