We're moving some furniture upstairs so the kids can have a den to use. Of course that means cleaning up what is currently a seldom-used guest bedroom. We've been going through stuff, deciding what to keep and what to throw out or give away and figuring out new places to put the stuff we'll keep. It's amazing what we've accumulated over the years that now has no meaning to us, or stuff that we'd forgotten about and now want to have available for our use. Doing this cleaning reminded me of Lent.
Lent is a kind of spring cleaning. The disciplines of prayer and fasting and giving up stuff help me to examine what's in my life that I should get rid of, or what may have been unused for a while that I should bring back into my consciousness or into regular use again.
I don't do this kind of cleaning every day. But having a regular season for it is good, a way to remind me that I need a time of deeper confession and examination periodically. And the best part is the result: a life that is more available for Jesus to use.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Lent?
Tomorrow is the start of Lent. So what?
Even though I've been a Christian since I was 6, I wasn't introduced to the idea of Lent or Advent or a Christian calendar until I became friends in seminary with a fellow student who was Episcopalian (what he was doing in a Fundamentalist seminary is beyond me!). I was raised to be a little (okay, a lot) suspicious of the "smells and bells" approach to worship.
But as I've reflected on my own upbringing I've come to realize that there are at least two good reasons to participate in the Christian calendar shared by the Church throughout time and around the world.
First, I am a creature of time and space. I'm affected by what I do repeatedly. The fact that I celebrate birthdays is an indication that rhythms and repeated observances are important to me and to people around me. Lent reminds me that Christ's life, death and resurrection are the most significant events of history. Christmas celebrates Christ's birth, but Lent and Easter celebrate why Christ was born and my participation in that observance renews that importance in my soul.
Second, Lent is something that the Church does together. Rather than ignoring the activity and focus of the rest of the Church as if I'm somehow beyond all that, I want to participate in that which is shaping the life and identity of Christ's Church. It's sort of like calling yourself a Giants fan and then not watching the Super Bowl or not showing outwardly that you're happy they won. I should at least be curious about what all the hoopla is about.
I'm still not very good at observing Lent. Some approach Lent with a "step on a crack, break your mother's back" legalism. I take comfort in the fact that the various practices of Lent (prayer, fasting, candles) are not meant to gauge my level of spirituality, but to help me become more present to God so he can let me know how spiritual I am or am not and what he wants me to do about it. I should be listening to God all year, but the season of Lent gives me an extra boost, some additional reminders and resources.
I'll never "arrive" spiritually this side of death. My Christian formation happens over time. Time is measured in seasons. Lent is one of those seasons.
Even though I've been a Christian since I was 6, I wasn't introduced to the idea of Lent or Advent or a Christian calendar until I became friends in seminary with a fellow student who was Episcopalian (what he was doing in a Fundamentalist seminary is beyond me!). I was raised to be a little (okay, a lot) suspicious of the "smells and bells" approach to worship.
But as I've reflected on my own upbringing I've come to realize that there are at least two good reasons to participate in the Christian calendar shared by the Church throughout time and around the world.
First, I am a creature of time and space. I'm affected by what I do repeatedly. The fact that I celebrate birthdays is an indication that rhythms and repeated observances are important to me and to people around me. Lent reminds me that Christ's life, death and resurrection are the most significant events of history. Christmas celebrates Christ's birth, but Lent and Easter celebrate why Christ was born and my participation in that observance renews that importance in my soul.
Second, Lent is something that the Church does together. Rather than ignoring the activity and focus of the rest of the Church as if I'm somehow beyond all that, I want to participate in that which is shaping the life and identity of Christ's Church. It's sort of like calling yourself a Giants fan and then not watching the Super Bowl or not showing outwardly that you're happy they won. I should at least be curious about what all the hoopla is about.
I'm still not very good at observing Lent. Some approach Lent with a "step on a crack, break your mother's back" legalism. I take comfort in the fact that the various practices of Lent (prayer, fasting, candles) are not meant to gauge my level of spirituality, but to help me become more present to God so he can let me know how spiritual I am or am not and what he wants me to do about it. I should be listening to God all year, but the season of Lent gives me an extra boost, some additional reminders and resources.
I'll never "arrive" spiritually this side of death. My Christian formation happens over time. Time is measured in seasons. Lent is one of those seasons.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
detachment
“I don’t need to go to a building to find God.” But in a climate which often is wet and cold, a community needs somewhere they can call their own.
These are words from the Irish Jesuits’ prayer website, Sacred Space. The climate being referred to is Dublin's. But the spiritual climate of Silicon Valley is wet and cold, too. So we, too, need a church building because buildings both house and represent the gatherings that give us warmth and encouragement.
In a mobile society we have a tension about attaching ourselves too much to a place that may no longer be ours in a short time. We develop an air of detachment that keeps us from finding warmth and encouragement. The problem is that we are also detaching ourselves from relationships in the same way that we detach ourselves from buildings.
No matter how connected modern technology is supposed to make us feel, there is no substitute for being in someone’s physical presence, for conversation over a warm cup of coffee (or tea), being granted the honor of looking into the windows of their soul, detecting in the notes of their voice the themes of their inner song.
How many times have I missed a chance for a connection because of distance, either physical or self-imposed? In our distant and detached society, connection and encouragement have been replaced by irony and cynicism. May God grant me the grace to overcome the detachment I’ve developed, to be truly present to those that he has brought into my life.
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