Working on My Butterfly

Psalm 51:10, 12

“Create in me a pure [clean] heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”  (NIV)

“God, make a fresh start in me, shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life. Bring me back from gray exile, put a fresh wind in my sails!” (MSG)

Lent can be a pretty somber time. It is penitential, about self-examination and sacrifice, and as we move through the season in scripture, Jesus moves toward his final hour in the flesh. Yet every Ash Wednesday, after my priest marks our foreheads with ash saying, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” after we’ve said a litany of penitence and confessed our sinful nature, the choir sings Create in Me, a song based on the verses above.

Lent is also a time of rejuvenation. It is a time for growth and renewal. And at the end, as the sun and son rise on Easter morning, we can give birth to our new selves, move forward in new lives. Lent is a cocoon. Lent is a retreat for the soul.

Many people give up things for Lent while others add in something new. Growing up, my mom, sister and I attended church, and Mom would make the Lenten resolution for all of us. I swear it was the same every year: No chocolate. Every year, at some point during Lent, a bag of M&Ms would show up in the house.

As a kid, I didn’t understand the significance of giving something up and sticking to it through the season. Even though I attended a Catholic grade school and I am sure was taught about what Lent was supposed to mean, it had no tangible meaning to me. I couldn’t see or understand any of it, and our yearly chocolate routine proved that there were no repercussions for not keeping a Lenten resolution.

So why do we do it? In my current adult understanding, the idea is based upon the fasting that took place in biblical times. Fasting isn’t just about sacrifice, it’s also about turning more of the focus on God. Fasting can be penitential and can allow for heightened awareness. But perhaps most importantly, fasting is a conscious act. A person chooses to fast in order to repent or to grow in a relationship with God.

In my lifetime, I can only think of one time I successfully stuck to giving something up for the entire season of Lent. I have found that I am far more successful if I add something God-focused to my routine. For where I am on my journey, throwing in another devotional or reading a new book (or getting back to Little Meditations) will do more to bring me closer to God.

Besides, I don’t eat nearly enough chocolate these days for it to be a sacrifice to give it up. 

Lord, as I snuggle into this cocoon of Lent with you, let my daily prayer be those lines from Psalm 51: Create in me a clean heart, renew in me a steadfast spirit, restore to me your joy, and grant me willingness. May the things I add or remove with intention this season bring me ever closer to you and help me to live in your will for my life.

Amen.

Resistance is Futile, Anyway

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

“We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we're not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.”  (MSG, italics mine)

I have been wandering in the wilderness.  There were only a few times I ventured very far from the pasture; mostly I was hanging out near the gate thinking about going in, or walking along the fence, but on the outside.  I kept my communication with God open, but I found myself resisting him.  I acknowledged my resistance, asked for forgiveness, then plopped down by the gate, where I sat for the last month, trying to summon the energy to stand, dust off, then run as fast as I could into the arms of my God.

The last three and a half months have been difficult.  A period of let-downs, loss, shattered hope, death, grief and confusion followed the catalyst event referred to in, Really, God?  Before Christmas there was anger.  After Christmas, I went into maintenance mode.  There was a lot of reaching for God through the final sickness and death of my grandmother, with whom I was very close.  Then came exhaustion and just moving from day to day through life’s busyness. 

Fatigued, I sat down just outside the gate of God’s green pasture.  I said, “I surrender.  Here.  I don’t want it, I trust you to do what needs to be done.  But I’m tired and I need to sit for awhile.”  And in my weakness, he found strength.  I haven’t yet run back into the lushest of the grass, but I am inside the gate.  My peace once again is not fleeting or easily disrupted, and I have amazed myself in this last week at how I have grown, at what God has done with me. 

It astounds me to no end how I can come and go and come and go.  I suppose it is human nature, and if I’ve learned anything from the Old Testament about human nature, it is that we come and go.  The Israelites are an extreme example, but reading through the Psalms and the stories of David, I find someone human to whom I can really relate. 

There are still troubles, but not nearly as many.  I still don’t know what to do, but I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God knows what to do.  So I’m going to let him do it.  And as we move into this season of Lent, I will strive to reignite the flame that burned so brightly last fall. 

“For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God...” 2 Cor 4:6 (NIV).

Dear Lord, let Light shine out of the darkness in my life.  Help me to move forward in love with faith and trust, surrendering myself to you and believing that you are working good from this thing I call my life.  Grant me humility during this Lenten season and beyond.  Bring me ever closer to you and hold me in your heart.

Amen.

*In the spirit of no alle...lu’s during Lent, my equivalent happy face after the Amen will be on vacation until Easter.