Lent – Finding a new "normal"

What is Necessary

We can prove our resilience without testing one another’s vulnerability.

I think and look back during our current pandemic, rising to its heights in the US during this Holy Week, to previous seasons of Lent. I really only started paying attention to Lent over the past 16-ish years. We didn’t observe Lent when and where I was raised, so, I don’t have that many seasons to remember.

As I learned to practice Lenten disciplines, I started simply. Of course, I’ve given up the standards over the years: soda, sweets, etc. During one of the earliest years, I gave up pork and beef; honestly, I haven’t eaten either since. I’ve also tried the add-on approach, adding a spiritual discipline during the 40-day season. Those are also meant to become lifestyle changes.

This year’s Lent has been unusual to say the least. Our congregation shared practices for each day that offer ways to give and receive love. Beyond paying attention to our in-house schedule of loving deeds, I haven’t been very intentional about my Lenten focus. Maybe because being under a “shelter in place” order feels a lot like working through spiritual disciplines.

For now, my most pressing focus is the daily process of deciding how to answer the question, “what is necessary?” as a guide to what I must do in order to support my household while being a good citizen. I’m a very conscientious soul, so you won’t find me walking around any of the places that do remain open. I try to order everything we need for our time at home to be delivered. If it can’t be delivered, I order for curbside, zero-contact pickup. Then, I obsessively wipe off items with alcohol or bleach wipes, quarantine pantry items to a certain section before folding them into use, bring no boxes or plastic bags inside, wash all produce, and, of course, wash my hands many multiple times throughout the day.

From *The Jungle Book*; “The Bare Necessities”

But there remains that question of what is necessary. It’s clear from this experience that I have not lived as simply as I thought I did. I’m used to getting whatever I want, whenever I want it, frankly. And not everything I want is necessary. Granted, I have done lots of internal work over the years, taming what I refer to as my “wanter.” Still, I’ve had to catch myself, every single day, and redirect my own thoughts and behaviors away from what I want towards what is necessary. And this is coming from a person who lives quite simply in comparison to our cultural standards. I can imagine how challenging it might be for someone who has never considered a simple life as any sort of goal or standard.

Answering the question of what is necessary has implications during this time of global pandemic far beyond a typical Lenten fast. When we choose what is necessary, we face potentially deadly consequences – not just for ourselves but for those we love most. We don’t know how we might be affected if we are infected … it’s a gamble. The odds are good that we’ll be ok but the risk is steep. If I blow my Lenten fast and eat chocolate, no one gets hurt. If I blow the shelter in place order and get sick, the potential for my own hurt as well as posing a danger to others, including my own child, is too great a risk.

So, I look forward to Resurrection Sunday and all that it signifies for those of us who love and follow Jesus: victory over death, an assurance of eternal life, promises of Christ’s reign and our co-inheritance in His kingdom … We have nothing to fear and everything to celebrate! And I will celebrate with my congregation by conference call this week. Because, while Jesus has already ushered in the kingdom of God on earth through his own ministry, death and resurrection, we, the Church, remain in this in-between time, waiting for the full restoration of creation.

So, how do we honor God best during this global crisis coinciding with our Christian celebration of the defeat of death AND the defeat of the FEAR of death? I think this is precisely where we are … Jesus rose from the dead and our day is coming. For now, though, we see our loved ones die. At this moment, we are seeing way too many beloveds dying at an alarming rate. We hear folks saying “faith over fear” as a motto. This doesn’t imply that we should test God by behaving in ways that risk lives during a known, deadly pandemic. It means that we know that death is not the end and we don’t live in fear of it. Life is precious. We humans are a peculiar mixture of resilience and vulnerability.

We can prove our resilience without testing one another’s vulnerability. Faith and grace and hope and love are our soul’s champions in this time in-between. We must employ them in all of our thoughts and prayers and behaviors each day for as long as this trial lasts – and beyond. These godly characteristics are as necessary as anything that might draw us away from home or that we might have waiting in our online shopping carts. But faith, grace, hope and love are necessities with something none of the items we scramble to buy will ever have: eternal value.

Our Thresholds

I’ve never experienced an actual “swirly” – you know, when someone holds your head in a toilet while flushing it – but life has lately brought that image to mind and I think I may know how it feels.

Another image has come to my mind during this particular stage of life – one of being stuck in a spin cycle (as in washing machines) that never ends. Do you wait for it to stop spinning and then go about your business? Or has something gone wrong with the machine and will the spin cycle continue until you somehow intervene? And then, this illustration reminds me of those dark, late nights when I’ve been stopped at a light for a really long time (probably 20 seconds) for absolutely no good reason because no one else is on the road. I know what I do in that scenario, but what do you do? Sit and wait, or get on with it despite the red lights in your face?

If you know me, you know I love theological reflection and making connections to life as it really is. (I add “as it really is” as a nod to my upbringing which paid constant homage to “life as we think it ought to be.”) When my mind begins conjuring images, like the swirly and the spin cycle of my washer, I know it’s time for me to pay attention to the Spirit of God. Something life-giving is happening and God is trying to help me understand it.

There is a Latin word, limen, which means “threshold.” From it, comes two terms you probably have encountered before: liminality and liminal space. The concept has been applied to literature, anthropology, psychology, theology and other “‘logies” because it is so rich metaphorically. Basically, liminality and liminal space both take the concept of a threshold and apply it to times of transition, ambiguity and waiting. In theological terms, it becomes a time of growth, learning and spiritual transformation if the person experiencing it embraces the opportunity.

So, what do you do in liminal space? If I make the comparison in my own life to stoplights late at night, then I “bust” through without any regard to legalities in favor of my own comfort and perceived safety. If I compare it to being stuck in a spin cycle, then I apparently stay, hoping and praying that the spinning will stop soon. I don’t think the swirly comparison applies … that one was probably allowed through just to grab my attention. 🙂 What I can’t ignore in either comparison is the presence of fear.

Fear can either cause us to run impulsively (stoplight) or it can paralyze us (spin cycle.) I suppose for me, this particular liminal space is designed to help me work through some previously unnoticed or unnamed fear.

Today is still early in this year’s season of Lent. If you find yourself in a period of liminality in your own story, I encourage you to embrace this opportunity to pursue the freedom that comes in working together with God to become the man or woman you were created to be. Whether you are wrestling with fear, or an unforgiving spirit, or an unloving attitude, or whatever else, this could be just the space you need to transition to the next phase of your life.

Hurts so good

My foot is killing me today. The reason is a tad embarrassing, only because of the mental images you might conjure. I found a pair of headphones last night, which coincided with the arrival of a $15 iTunes gift card . . . which led to music downloads . . . which then led to about 40 minutes of dancing around my room. I have to tell you, it felt soooooo good to dance. It was late. I danced. I sang. I was in another world for those 40 minutes, and it was simply wonderful.

It didn’t take long after I stopped to notice that my left foot was hurting. Honest to Pete, I don’t know how it happened. But, I did damage to my foot, with a bruise across the top as an indicator of some sort of sprain.

But, guess what? I was so happy when it happened, I don’t really care even now about the injury. It hurts, yes. But it happened while I was doing something I really loved and, if I had it to do over, I would probably do the exact same thing.

I can’t help but compare that sentiment to the process of bringing children into the world. If there wasn’t so much joy attached to the outcome, there would likely never be more than one child in any family. How else can you explain our willingness to endure childbirth more than once in a lifetime? (And for men, how else can you explain their willingness to endure the misery we inflict on them during pregnancy and labor?)

I spoke in a previous blog about how there is always an element of imperfection to our experiences of joy here on earth. But this is a different angle, I think. This connection between suffering and joy emphasizes the presence of love in both. Love empowers us to endure suffering.

As I think about that concept during this Lenten season and apply it to the suffering Jesus endured, I am utterly overwhelmed by the vastness of His love. I cannot speak because there is nothing to say. A beautiful combination of Divinity and humanity, Love and suffering, is the story of Jesus’ passion. The whole time, He had us in mind.

That kind of covenant-based love is not an easy concept for us to grasp. We don’t see the value in enduring hardship when there are so many other choices. Today, I remain in a state of gratitude for Christ’s covenantal love and the lesson I am afforded because of it.

In the middle of joy or sadness, my heart dances in His love, whether my feet can keep up or not!

Lenten reflections: ashes to ashes

I probably haven’t blogged long enough to re-post a previous entry, but I think this one is worth revisiting. Besides, in my attempt to give up working entirely for Lent this year, I figured a good place to start is with reposting previous articles rather than creating new ones.

Actually, since I have already engaged in all sorts of work today and it seems certain that there is no escape from it for the next 40 days, I will practice a new, daily spiritual discipline instead of fasting from anything this year. I pray that your Lenten journey will bring you closer to the presence of God, a greater commitment to your calling, and a refreshed love for God, self, and neighbors, *Sandy

Late winter-early spring was different before I knew about Lent. I think that my introduction to Lent may have actually been my introduction to spiritual disciplines in general. Before when I didn’t know about any spiritual disciplines – besides praying and reading my Bible, neither of which were accomplished with anything resembling “discipline” – I didn’t think about any of my indulgences. I’m talking about the way I spent my money, the things I chose to eat and drink, or how I chose to spend my time. I didn’t worry so much about how I could be a better neighbor or even a randomly-kind stranger.

Those things didn’t matter to me because I saw my faith in Jesus as something very personal. I didn’t see myself as part of a faith community. Frankly, I didn’t trust a lot of the people I went to church with. I learned not to trust church people when I was old enough to have a different social opinion from most of the ones I knew – because they turned on me in ways that I believed were unjustifiable for folks who claim to know Jesus. That sort of thing happens more than most people would like to acknowledge. I am grateful that God continued to pursue me, knowing how I felt about some of His other children and what I saw as their offenses and failures. Living life as an offended person is not a happy life.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…that’s what most of us heard who received the imposition of ashes on Wednesday of this week. It sounds so “funeralish”. [My spell-checker hates it when I make up words!] But that’s what it’s about for me now: death and renewal until we get to the resurrection. I’ve been reading some of Fred Craddock’s sermons for a project and in one of those sermons, Fred said that he didn’t understand how any Christian expected to be invited to the resurrection party if they never attended the funeral. During this season, we have the privilege – all of us, collectively – to experience again through spiritual disciplines the suffering that Jesus experienced, even to the gut-wrenching death, all for the sake of our reconciliation with God.

So, in light of that understanding, I am compelled – more happily than ever – to let die some of my indulgences and stinkin’ thinkin’ as the Holy Spirit reveals those things to me. One of the first things that had to go in order to get to this place was my misguided notion that I could follow Jesus in isolation. A faith that turns inward is no faith at all. It is when we reach out in faith to share something of ourselves with others that we encounter Jesus. He didn’t stay dead, remember? That is a deal-breaker for determining whether you’re a Christian or not. We talk and sing about His resurrection, but many of us live like Jesus just died. When you encounter the risen Savior, the only possible response is to be changed. Transformed! It’s easy to change personal habits, but I’m convinced that only encounters with Jesus can change our bad attitudes and misguided beliefs.

I carry the ash mark and a small piece of sackcloth with me through this Lenten season along with Christians around the world. It reminds me of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection, the history of the Church, and my journey with Jesus as I meet so many friends on the path with me.

Ashes to ashes . . .

Once you know something, you can’t un-know it. So, I carry the ash mark with me through this Lenten season along with Christians around the world. It reminds me of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection, the history of the Church, and my journey with Jesus as I meet so many friends on the path with me.