Why do Lent? Why fast from anything for any amount of time? What does it mean? What's the point?
In modern times fasting is fairly unique and extremely so as a form of worship. Even after completing these 40 days of Lent I find myself still somewhat confused about what fasting is and why we do it. What I do know for sure is that in this modern world where the distance between desire and satisfaction is minuscule, doing without what you want for an extended period of time is almost a revolutionary act.
I haven't had any need to justify fasting to anyone by virtue of my stay-at-home-husband status. Basically the only explanation needed was to my candy and dessert obsessed daughter. I can imagine how it would be in public however. People notice things and would certainly notice my rejecting sodas and sweets. I have often wondered how I would react if questioned. Mostly I see myself shrugging and declaring it a religious thing with some measure of resignation. I wouldn't have a real answer. Experience has taught me that in giving up what I desire, what has been an addiction, something that on some level has controlled me, brings me not closer to God so much as it gives me more of my self to turn over to his control.
One of the things I've discovered as a result of this process that happens to be entirely non spiritual is that sugar had been affecting my health. Well, duh, the health conscious among my audience are probably saying. I can practically hear the forehead slaps and semi patronizing good for you even now as this is in the first draft.
I have lived with pretty much daily acid reflux/indigestion, or whatever people call it, for years. It was only through Lent that I realized it wasn't caused by coffee or spicy food but, instead, sugar. At this realization I did a very small experimentation. Processed sugar was right out. Even in very small amounts it caused the acid. Sugar in the raw at the same amount caused the same reaction but it took much, much longer to hit. The only safe thing was honey. Zero reaction. This will bring quite the change for my life. I'm fairly certain PepsiCo stock will fall, so if you are invested...brace yourself.
It is easy to look at things as having an inescapable hold on us. I spent years thinking that giving up Facebook was too big; bigger even than when I quit smoking cold turkey. So many people have told me how they just can't do it, that somehow my success is a super human anomaly. It really isn't. It feels that way, to be sure, but it doesn't take a super human will.
I've learned a few principles that are so fundamental to human existence that I feel embarrassingly late to the party. Mainly I've learned that nothing has real power over me that I haven't willingly given that power to. I can make decades of excuses about how helpless I am, and without Jesus I'm sure it is true. I give away power with my choices. This has rung true so completely in me that I'm actually looking forward to next year when I'm likely to give up digital media of all sorts for 40 days.
I know, right? Nothing. No Netflix. No Playstation. No movies. No T.V. Shows. Just me and a lot of time spent doing analog things. Giving up Facebook earlier in the year has created so much peace within me...I'm kind of wondering how much more of that there is to be had. How much do these distractions affect us? Would I be better off that way? It is only because of this Lent that it could be possible for me to even consider attempting.
Pax,
W
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Friday, March 25, 2016
On Lent: Ungrateful on Good Friday
One of the amazing things about the Bible is that if you read it long enough, eventually you will see yourself. It's not like the "Iliad" or the "Odyssey" where you will see great heroes you want to be like, a goal to aspire to. No. In the Bible you'll see yourself warts and all.
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Sunday, March 20, 2016
On Lent: Palm Sunday
It has been an interesting past few days here, going though Lent. In many ways I feel like this is the week I've been waiting for, and not because Resurrection Sunday comes and I'll be able to have sugar. On the contrary, in these final few days the personal spiritual revelations have started coming that I expected. There is a certain maturity that comes in giving up something you hold dear, something that controls you or at least moves you. One or two weeks without that thing is a fad or a lark. The third week tests your resolve. The fourth week tests your reasons, and if you get beyond that there really is quite something to be learned about yourself.
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
Saturday, February 27, 2016
On Lent: An Update
The sugar addiction fog has cleared a bit, praise Jesus. Literally. I have.
It is amazing how we cling to things. I have marveled at my own inability to let go. When Paul talks about beating his flesh into submission in 1 Corinthians 9, he ain't joking. It is insanely difficult to just give up sugar let alone the pet sins in our lives.
I find that Lent can be a master class in letting these things go. You get to the end of yourself and have to rely on God because there is no more of yourself to rely on. If it was up to me I'd have that maple bar. I'd dig deep into that creme brulee or indulge in my greatest temptation...Pepsi.
I had a really big moment in my Lenten journey. It might sound like I am making an excuse or being a bit of a hypocrite, and I considered that. But something changed in me. I was at my favorite coffee shop (seriously, the best latte I've ever had and it was without a flavored syrup) and the owner recognized me from a Google review I put online. Without a word he came over and put a personal sized (not full slice) blackberry cheesecake in front of me. I said, "Wow" and thanked him. It sat there for a few minutes while I kept writing my new novel. I looked from my laptop screen to the cheesecake and I realized that there was a complete absence of compulsion. My mouth didn't salivate. I didn't feel any longing or like if I pushed it away, said no thank you or something, that I would have missed out. It was just a thing. Just a piece of food. And if you've seen me, I'm 291 pounds (down from 298 on Ash Wednesday, woohoo). I'm a man who has eaten his fair share of cheese cake, cheese, and cake. Not feeling anything was kind of a big deal.
The man, I knew from overhearing a conversation from last time, is an artisan. He makes 98% of the menu on site. "Everything but the coffee beans, and we don't churn the butter," he said with a laugh. I'm not an artisan, but I am a professionally trained cook and when I present somebody with something I've worked on, and am proud of and they refuse it hurts. A lot. He takes great pride in his work, and I realized (again, as much of an excuse as it sounds like) that it was about doing something to not offend. Paul, of course, talks about this in being a Jew to the Jewish, Greek to the Greek, etc. Was it a sin to partake during Lent? If I was Catholic enough I might say that, but I'm not. Grace is extreme and I wasn't violating the actual purpose of Lent in my heart. Had it been earlier when I was really struggling I might have said something, but no. Had I eaten the cheesecake and then felt horrible about it then maybe I would have written a different post. And this is where the analogy of our little addictions being the same as sins breaks down. It's instructive, illustrative in fact, but not equal to. It was enough that during the first two weeks of Lent the Lord broke a major stronghold and after ingesting the artisan, hand crafted, blackberry cheesecake the craving was still not there. At least not in the sanity clawing, soul shredding intensity it was before.
On the interesting but not necessarily spiritually relevant side, I have spent years suffering from acid reflux type symptoms. For ages it did not matter if I ate acidic stuff or not, I would be popping the antacids. At first it was kind of a "Huh...I wonder if sugar is responsible..." and then I ate the cheesecake. The evening and all the next morning I had such acid attacks. I am pretty certain I will not going back to sugar anymore after Lent is finished. It will mean no diabetes, which I'm sure has been a concern of a few family and close friends.
Pax,
W
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
On Lent: The Greatest Commandments
If Lent is a season in which we are called to consider "What is it mean to be a faithful disciple of Jesus" then we must consider, at some point, the Greatest Commandment.
1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.
According to Jesus, in multiple Gospels though I'm in Mark 12 for this one, the second is like it.
2. Love your neighbor as yourself.
Anyone with a Sunday School grade level can recite that from rote memory, but when it comes to understanding it...at least in my case, not so much.
How in the world is loving my neighbor in the same manner as I love myself anywhere CLOSE to loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength? It's something that I take on Faith (with a capital F, please note, which indicates the concept is too large for me to get a grapple on at the moment) because I don't understand it. Feel free to comment down below and help me wrestle with it.
Taking it on Faith I tackle the more manageable second one. And I've been crap at it. I used to suffer from a fairly significant Social Anxiety. I wouldn't dare call it "severe" merely because I have no basis for comparison. It wasn't Anxiety in the way I think most people feel anxiety, which is a physical response with no corresponding logic to it. Again, I haven't studied anxiety, so if I'm incorrect feel free to correct me in the comments below. I've always had fairly logical reasons for my anxiety, or so I've believed.
When I meet a person I always have a certain amount of awkwardness because I recognize that I'm nothing to whoever I meet. I'm a face without a name until I'm introduced, and who the heck am I to assume anything let alone that I have a right to their time let alone their consideration? Sometimes I feel the same way about my blogs, but I figure you can just close them if you don't want them and be on your merry way. I tend to feel that I don't even have a right to introduce myself to someone, and when others have introduced me I have felt like that was some sort of an imposition. But, usually once a conversation begins even then I'm at a loss. I'm not a very small talk type person. I've never been able to pull off the "Oh...so, uh...are you originally from here?" type conversation. It's awkward, I sound awkward, and it feels like I'm really not interested, struggling for something so the other person who started talking to me doesn't feel rejected. And it sounds like that because I really feel that way. If I could skip the awkward "getting to know you" bit and launch into the in depth struggling with our human and spiritual selves philosophical sort of conversation I would. That's the territory I feel the most at home in. But this, "Oh gee...that Nor'easter we got the other day...what did ya think of that?" is painful. Then you search around trying to find something in common and people always go to Sports. I know why they go to sports...but I am not a sports guy. Even in my favorite sport of Soccer I don't much like talking about it. And that's why I wear Fandom shirts.
Fandom shirts (currently wearing my Doctor Who shirt with the glow-in-the-dark Weeping Angels) let me bypass all of that...generally. One of the Small Group studies I went to I spent 8 agonizing weeks going wearing a different shirt and got no bites. It was a couples thing with the guys but me were all swollen armed "Guys Guys", talking manliness, outdoors, trucks, and the like. I wore Doctor Who shirts, Sherlock shirts, video game shirts, and in a last ditch (and perennially futile effort) I wore an Edgar Allen Poe shirt with a quote from "The Murders of the Rue Morgue" and one of the ladies there said the quote sounded romantic.
I'm just not a "reacher-out-er". I figure that if we are meant to be friends then it's going to happen, and even THEN I have anxiety. My past is a long history of thinking that each friendship is actually more important to the other person than it actually ends up being. And that hurts. I was friends for two years with someone and our wives were good friends. It's such a trite story where the friend holds a party...I didn't get an invite...then one of the other friends casually remarks that "Yeah, it was a great party. All his friends were there." and I realize that I've been just an acquaintance all this time and I thought I was a friend. It has happened in more instances than I can actually count on my hands, fingers and toes. And it hurts. It hurts a lot. It doesn't just cut, it shreds. That shredding makes a person more than a little gun shy when it comes to forging friendships and putting yourself out there. I've been fortunate to have one person in my life who is such a good friend that when we meet up it's like we never parted (even when it was ten years apart) or I would give up on the whole "having friends thing".
All that to say that I have anxiety because I've been damaged, not some chemical imbalance...which would be far worse I agree.
And, all that to get back to what I realized about our second greatest commandment.
"Oh well...get out there anyway."
Satori is a Zen concept that indicates a sudden realization that feels like getting smacked upside the head with a brick spiritually. I had that.
Loving your neighbor is about loving whoever happens to be next to you at the time. Loving him/her as yourself means treating them precisely how you would want to be treated. For me, that means getting over my anxiety so that I can welcome them into my life as warmly and completely as I would actually want to be on the receiving end of. I need to be treating whoever I meet with precisely the same love and care as my one completely steadfast friend did when they met me. Yes, I've been hurt. Yes, I have anxiety to deal with. However, I'm in danger of turning into exactly what hurt me. If I hold my hurt I'll make it awkward for others, I'll love at a distance, I'll not invite someone, etc. The only way to not become what hurt me to someone else is to let go, rely on Jesus to do what He has commanded, and love with His love. It's scary, but I'm pretty sure He can accomplish it in me when He has already commanded it of me.
It may seem a little thing now that I've pushed it outside of myself for you to see, but I'm a bit bigger on the inside for the realization.
Pax,
W
1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.
According to Jesus, in multiple Gospels though I'm in Mark 12 for this one, the second is like it.
2. Love your neighbor as yourself.
Anyone with a Sunday School grade level can recite that from rote memory, but when it comes to understanding it...at least in my case, not so much.
How in the world is loving my neighbor in the same manner as I love myself anywhere CLOSE to loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength? It's something that I take on Faith (with a capital F, please note, which indicates the concept is too large for me to get a grapple on at the moment) because I don't understand it. Feel free to comment down below and help me wrestle with it.
Taking it on Faith I tackle the more manageable second one. And I've been crap at it. I used to suffer from a fairly significant Social Anxiety. I wouldn't dare call it "severe" merely because I have no basis for comparison. It wasn't Anxiety in the way I think most people feel anxiety, which is a physical response with no corresponding logic to it. Again, I haven't studied anxiety, so if I'm incorrect feel free to correct me in the comments below. I've always had fairly logical reasons for my anxiety, or so I've believed.
When I meet a person I always have a certain amount of awkwardness because I recognize that I'm nothing to whoever I meet. I'm a face without a name until I'm introduced, and who the heck am I to assume anything let alone that I have a right to their time let alone their consideration? Sometimes I feel the same way about my blogs, but I figure you can just close them if you don't want them and be on your merry way. I tend to feel that I don't even have a right to introduce myself to someone, and when others have introduced me I have felt like that was some sort of an imposition. But, usually once a conversation begins even then I'm at a loss. I'm not a very small talk type person. I've never been able to pull off the "Oh...so, uh...are you originally from here?" type conversation. It's awkward, I sound awkward, and it feels like I'm really not interested, struggling for something so the other person who started talking to me doesn't feel rejected. And it sounds like that because I really feel that way. If I could skip the awkward "getting to know you" bit and launch into the in depth struggling with our human and spiritual selves philosophical sort of conversation I would. That's the territory I feel the most at home in. But this, "Oh gee...that Nor'easter we got the other day...what did ya think of that?" is painful. Then you search around trying to find something in common and people always go to Sports. I know why they go to sports...but I am not a sports guy. Even in my favorite sport of Soccer I don't much like talking about it. And that's why I wear Fandom shirts.
Fandom shirts (currently wearing my Doctor Who shirt with the glow-in-the-dark Weeping Angels) let me bypass all of that...generally. One of the Small Group studies I went to I spent 8 agonizing weeks going wearing a different shirt and got no bites. It was a couples thing with the guys but me were all swollen armed "Guys Guys", talking manliness, outdoors, trucks, and the like. I wore Doctor Who shirts, Sherlock shirts, video game shirts, and in a last ditch (and perennially futile effort) I wore an Edgar Allen Poe shirt with a quote from "The Murders of the Rue Morgue" and one of the ladies there said the quote sounded romantic.
I'm just not a "reacher-out-er". I figure that if we are meant to be friends then it's going to happen, and even THEN I have anxiety. My past is a long history of thinking that each friendship is actually more important to the other person than it actually ends up being. And that hurts. I was friends for two years with someone and our wives were good friends. It's such a trite story where the friend holds a party...I didn't get an invite...then one of the other friends casually remarks that "Yeah, it was a great party. All his friends were there." and I realize that I've been just an acquaintance all this time and I thought I was a friend. It has happened in more instances than I can actually count on my hands, fingers and toes. And it hurts. It hurts a lot. It doesn't just cut, it shreds. That shredding makes a person more than a little gun shy when it comes to forging friendships and putting yourself out there. I've been fortunate to have one person in my life who is such a good friend that when we meet up it's like we never parted (even when it was ten years apart) or I would give up on the whole "having friends thing".
All that to say that I have anxiety because I've been damaged, not some chemical imbalance...which would be far worse I agree.
And, all that to get back to what I realized about our second greatest commandment.
"Oh well...get out there anyway."
Satori is a Zen concept that indicates a sudden realization that feels like getting smacked upside the head with a brick spiritually. I had that.
Loving your neighbor is about loving whoever happens to be next to you at the time. Loving him/her as yourself means treating them precisely how you would want to be treated. For me, that means getting over my anxiety so that I can welcome them into my life as warmly and completely as I would actually want to be on the receiving end of. I need to be treating whoever I meet with precisely the same love and care as my one completely steadfast friend did when they met me. Yes, I've been hurt. Yes, I have anxiety to deal with. However, I'm in danger of turning into exactly what hurt me. If I hold my hurt I'll make it awkward for others, I'll love at a distance, I'll not invite someone, etc. The only way to not become what hurt me to someone else is to let go, rely on Jesus to do what He has commanded, and love with His love. It's scary, but I'm pretty sure He can accomplish it in me when He has already commanded it of me.
It may seem a little thing now that I've pushed it outside of myself for you to see, but I'm a bit bigger on the inside for the realization.
Pax,
W
Sunday, February 14, 2016
On Lent : Plucking out an eye...
I remember the first time I heard someone explain the very colorful passage where Jesus declares that if your eye offends/causes you to sin then gouge it out (Matt 5:29 and then again in Matt 18:9. My father had a friend from work over to dinner and he knew we were Christians. The man was "Christ Curious" and asked my dad what the passage meant. Was Jesus serious? If so, my dad's friend related, he'd be a blind, mute, paraplegic before the week was through. I laughed heartily, but it stuck with me. It is such a vivid image. My father went on to explain it was, naturally, Jesus being hyperbolic to establish how seriously God takes sin and, by extension, how seriously we should treat sin.
This Saturday (Hurrah for Saturday Evening church) our Pastor's homily/sermon (Is it "homily" in Presbyterian circles? I know it can be for Catholics...bah...) was on the basics of what Lent is all about. He said, "Lent forces us to ask the question, 'What does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus Christ?'". The text was from Mark 8 where Jesus declares his own impending death. Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him for saying he's going to die. (Seriously...Peter rebuking Jesus...whew...) Jesus turns around and rebukes Peter by calling him Satan. Seriously. He calls him Satan. And then he makes a statement that, because of the multi-millenia distance, sounds innocuous to us.
"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
Let that sink in. Let that REALLY sink in. Forget that we wear crosses as jewelry. Forget every time you've seen them in the sanctuary of your local church. Forget that you know the end of each gospel. What is a cross? What was a cross to them?
It was a horribly unclean implement of torture used upon criminals originated in its use by an oppressive gentile regime.
Pick up my cross? Really Jesus? What the heck are you talking about? I'm not condemned to die. I'm not an unclean law breaker. Did you eat some bad Matzo or something? You're talking crazy, dude. Maybe you should take a nap and we'll clarify that later. Let's get you out of the sun there, Mister Messiah, OK?
If they could see us from then to now and saw the representation of the cross in our churches, around our necks, tattooed on our arms, on our Bibles, as decals on our vehicles, I'm fairly certain they would throw up in their mouths a little. It was that repulsive to them. We're talking on the order of when Jesus declared that if they wanted to be saved then they needed to eat his flesh and drink his blood. It cost him a lot of disciples.
This was, of course, Jesus speaking outside of time already knowing what was to come. But what is the cross we are called to carry?
It is not the things we give up for Lent. As difficult as that is, and the sugar cravings are pretty darn bad over here, it is not our "cross". Difficulties, disease, pain, problematic relationships, etc...I don't think that these are "the cross we have to bear". Sure, they are less than pleasant to go through, but I think there is a bigger meaning here.
I like how The Voice puts it, "If any of you wants to follow Me, you will have to give yourself up to God's plan..."
HIS plan no matter what it is, the cost, or what might happen as a result. Can you trust God's plan to death? I find it to be pretty easy to say, "Yes. In a renounce Jesus or die situation I would choose death." It is harder when you add torture to the mix. If you add public humiliation and shaming to it then I'm even less likely to be OK with the divine plan. How about working for no visible result and still putting in the time day after day? I often ask people, "What if God's "great and mighty" plan for you is to be a janitor? Or a stay at home parent? What if it's to work your 9-5 with no recognition? Would you deny yourself and give your all for His will?" I'm always surprised how many people discount that possibility. They brush it aside with some personal assurance that whatever God has for them is FAR more glorious than something so petty or humble...forgetting, of course, that the least will be greatest and the last first in Jesus' upside down rule that declares us all to be servants and subservient to one another.
A cross, at least in my eyes, matches Jesus' path. "I really would rather not have to suffer living through to this plan you have set before me...but, nevertheless, Your will be done."
The things we give up for Lent, I'm realizing, has more to do with the eye-gouging. What I give up offends me, is bad for me, is going to ultimately kill me or my relationship to God. I'm startlingly aware of why Jesus refers to these things in our life that offend as "body parts". We love them like they are. We take our sins or other negative behaviors and we clutch them to our chest, both disgusted by them yet very unwilling to give them up. I'm shocked at how much giving up something as simple and relatively innocent as sugar is quite like losing a limb. It becomes something of a metaphor for my "innocent" sins. Jesus is calling saying, "Cut it off. It's bad for you. Trust me. Pluck it out. You don't need it. It can only weigh you down. Make the clean break." Usually I find myself begging, "I only just want to keep it a little longer. Just a LITTLE bit longer. The littlest bit. Come on. Please?" It's a self serving lie, of course. He does know best.
I say to myself more than anyone else, "Let go. Give it up. Trust Him. The Father knows best."
Pax,
W
This Saturday (Hurrah for Saturday Evening church) our Pastor's homily/sermon (Is it "homily" in Presbyterian circles? I know it can be for Catholics...bah...) was on the basics of what Lent is all about. He said, "Lent forces us to ask the question, 'What does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus Christ?'". The text was from Mark 8 where Jesus declares his own impending death. Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him for saying he's going to die. (Seriously...Peter rebuking Jesus...whew...) Jesus turns around and rebukes Peter by calling him Satan. Seriously. He calls him Satan. And then he makes a statement that, because of the multi-millenia distance, sounds innocuous to us.
"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
Let that sink in. Let that REALLY sink in. Forget that we wear crosses as jewelry. Forget every time you've seen them in the sanctuary of your local church. Forget that you know the end of each gospel. What is a cross? What was a cross to them?
It was a horribly unclean implement of torture used upon criminals originated in its use by an oppressive gentile regime.
Pick up my cross? Really Jesus? What the heck are you talking about? I'm not condemned to die. I'm not an unclean law breaker. Did you eat some bad Matzo or something? You're talking crazy, dude. Maybe you should take a nap and we'll clarify that later. Let's get you out of the sun there, Mister Messiah, OK?
If they could see us from then to now and saw the representation of the cross in our churches, around our necks, tattooed on our arms, on our Bibles, as decals on our vehicles, I'm fairly certain they would throw up in their mouths a little. It was that repulsive to them. We're talking on the order of when Jesus declared that if they wanted to be saved then they needed to eat his flesh and drink his blood. It cost him a lot of disciples.
This was, of course, Jesus speaking outside of time already knowing what was to come. But what is the cross we are called to carry?
It is not the things we give up for Lent. As difficult as that is, and the sugar cravings are pretty darn bad over here, it is not our "cross". Difficulties, disease, pain, problematic relationships, etc...I don't think that these are "the cross we have to bear". Sure, they are less than pleasant to go through, but I think there is a bigger meaning here.
I like how The Voice puts it, "If any of you wants to follow Me, you will have to give yourself up to God's plan..."
HIS plan no matter what it is, the cost, or what might happen as a result. Can you trust God's plan to death? I find it to be pretty easy to say, "Yes. In a renounce Jesus or die situation I would choose death." It is harder when you add torture to the mix. If you add public humiliation and shaming to it then I'm even less likely to be OK with the divine plan. How about working for no visible result and still putting in the time day after day? I often ask people, "What if God's "great and mighty" plan for you is to be a janitor? Or a stay at home parent? What if it's to work your 9-5 with no recognition? Would you deny yourself and give your all for His will?" I'm always surprised how many people discount that possibility. They brush it aside with some personal assurance that whatever God has for them is FAR more glorious than something so petty or humble...forgetting, of course, that the least will be greatest and the last first in Jesus' upside down rule that declares us all to be servants and subservient to one another.
A cross, at least in my eyes, matches Jesus' path. "I really would rather not have to suffer living through to this plan you have set before me...but, nevertheless, Your will be done."
The things we give up for Lent, I'm realizing, has more to do with the eye-gouging. What I give up offends me, is bad for me, is going to ultimately kill me or my relationship to God. I'm startlingly aware of why Jesus refers to these things in our life that offend as "body parts". We love them like they are. We take our sins or other negative behaviors and we clutch them to our chest, both disgusted by them yet very unwilling to give them up. I'm shocked at how much giving up something as simple and relatively innocent as sugar is quite like losing a limb. It becomes something of a metaphor for my "innocent" sins. Jesus is calling saying, "Cut it off. It's bad for you. Trust me. Pluck it out. You don't need it. It can only weigh you down. Make the clean break." Usually I find myself begging, "I only just want to keep it a little longer. Just a LITTLE bit longer. The littlest bit. Come on. Please?" It's a self serving lie, of course. He does know best.
I say to myself more than anyone else, "Let go. Give it up. Trust Him. The Father knows best."
Pax,
W
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Ash Wednesday
My family has recently begun attending the local Presbyterian "Mega Church" as I call it. (Seriously, it's the biggest Presbyterian church I've ever seen. It doesn't seat thousands but it does have three services). The church we had been attending decided to move twenty minutes away so we'd been churchless for a while. The Presbyterian church is where we've sent our kids to AWANA so we had a pretty good feel of the people or at least the place so social anxiety was minimal. I had some other qualifications I felt I needed in a church (I can't remember if I've written about that. I'll have to look. That was an...interesting...process...) and the Presby satisfied them all. We started attending the Saturday evening service which, let me tell you, is a great thing for a church to have.
Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married. I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.
I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it". Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it. I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar. Well, sugar in overt forms. I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up. The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten. It's the indulgences I'm limiting. (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now. My body is less than happy with me.)
There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better. I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people. My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation. I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward. It's a vicious cycle.
The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly. That was probably my first shock. At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.
My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday. My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house. I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing. She then asked what it was all about. Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.
She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary. My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea
One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component. I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church. The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave. Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace? Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences. I came to a few conclusions and notions.
It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night. He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.
Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place. Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch. I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem. I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey. But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit. I sin. I sin all the time. Not a day goes by that I do not sin. It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought." Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime. Should I feel condemned? No. However, should I feel nothing? Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure. Ok, Doc. Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.
After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew. We forget that we need mercy. It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience. We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness. I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand. But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God. Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us. In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out. The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.
I had prepped for the occasion. I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit). I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."
The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."
For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.
I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves. It would be easy to confuse the issue there. I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning. I was likely half right. They are without power. However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us. Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough. Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough. It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.
God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.
Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye. The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short. A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead. I could not help but beam at my daughter. I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday. She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it. Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?". I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.
We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.
Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life. It was unsettling, and that was the point. Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing. The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday. We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong. Sin broke the world. Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life. I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting. I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.
Pax,
W
Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married. I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.
I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it". Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it. I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar. Well, sugar in overt forms. I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up. The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten. It's the indulgences I'm limiting. (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now. My body is less than happy with me.)
There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better. I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people. My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation. I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward. It's a vicious cycle.
The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly. That was probably my first shock. At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.
My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday. My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house. I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing. She then asked what it was all about. Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.
She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary. My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea
One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component. I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church. The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave. Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace? Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences. I came to a few conclusions and notions.
It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night. He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.
Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place. Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch. I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem. I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey. But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit. I sin. I sin all the time. Not a day goes by that I do not sin. It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought." Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime. Should I feel condemned? No. However, should I feel nothing? Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure. Ok, Doc. Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.
After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew. We forget that we need mercy. It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience. We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness. I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand. But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God. Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us. In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out. The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.
I had prepped for the occasion. I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit). I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."
The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return. Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."
For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.
I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves. It would be easy to confuse the issue there. I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning. I was likely half right. They are without power. However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us. Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough. Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough. It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.
God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.
Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye. The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short. A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead. I could not help but beam at my daughter. I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday. She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it. Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?". I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.
We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.
Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life. It was unsettling, and that was the point. Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing. The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday. We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong. Sin broke the world. Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life. I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting. I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.
Pax,
W
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