Lent. A season of reflection and repentance. A season of journeying alongside our Lord on the journey to the cross. I haven’t always been a Lenten observer. Don’t get me wrong. I grew up Lutheran. So I definitely remember the extra services of Lent – every Wednesday evening for 6 weeks, Maundy Thursday, 2 on Good Friday and SEVERAL extra services on Easter Sunday, including my favorite – the sunrise service. So while I definitely remember Lent, I wouldn’t say I was an observer of Lent. More like a bystander.
My new church is a former non-denominational charismatic church, turned reformed charismatic, now turning semi-liturgical and contemplative. I like journeys, so I am happily accompanying. It matches my own journey in many ways, at least from my 20’s on. On the morning of Ash Wednesday, I met with my pastor, wanting to discuss with him where he sees the church’s journey going with regard to women in ministry leadership and missions. As our conversation wrapped up, he asked me if we could talk about the Ash Wednesday service. He’d never done one and said he figured I had a good deal of experience with Ash Wednesday, given my background. In reality, the only ashes I can recall ever having on my head were falling from the burning fields during the dry season in the village. But I shared with him the wisdom of my new BFF – RHB, through her Lenten podcast – and a poem called “Remember the Dust” by one of my favorite poets, Jan Richardson. And both of those things made it into the service. In fact, he later asked me to read the poem at the close of the service and to close the service in prayer. I was humbled and honored.
But the big question he posed, and that RHB posed in her podcast, is “What is distracting you from God that you need to give up for a season, in order to return to Him with your whole heart?” I think that’s an excellent question to ask all the time, but particularly during this season of Lent.
I’ve been pondering that for the past few days (admittedly this would better be done on the front end of Lent, rather than once it begins, but to be fair, I was fairly jet-lagged leading up to Ash Wednesday…). While I’m not new to the idea of Lent, and giving something up, I am looking at it in a whole new light this year, and I wanted this decision of “what to give up” to be based on real heart work, not faddish trends like giving up chocolate, coffee or social media. (All of which would likely be good ideas, but that’s not where I landed.) I have been convicted, over the past few months, that my quiet time in the morning, is consistently stolen from me. In earlier years, my morning quiet times were threatened by little people with needs, or oversleeping due to staying up too late, or trying to prepare people for school. But these days, the thief doesn’t look like any of those things.
I could say that the thief is a small, flat box created by Apple (You know that is why their logo is an apple with a bite out of it, right? The ultimate temptation… At least that was the Christian urban legend when iPhones started coming out!). To say that my phone is the distraction would be partially true. But the larger truth is that that phone has never once jumped off of my nightstand and hovered in front of my face with things to look at. The phone needs a handler. No, this thief is lurking in my mirror.
Every morning I turn off the alarm on my sleep app, and then check the weather, and my calendar and to-do list for the day (those 3 things tell me what to wear), and then notice all the other little red circles on the face of my phone. And I REALLY don’t like having little red circles on my phone! So, I start to check into them to make them go away. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, an hour could have gone by. And then there is only time for getting ready, maybe a quick listen to some audio Scripture while I’m doing that, and heading off to work. Poof! My time with Jesus is gone. Stolen – by me!
So for this Lent, my “giving up” is very specific. And I’m going to put it out here for accountability, and maybe as an encouragement for someone else who has a similar thief living in their house. I have decided to not look at my phone (except to turn off the sleep app) before 8:00 am. Computer too. The exception to this is to use my devotional apps, which are part of my daily rhythms and do hold me and ground me to strive for a cruciform life (Pray As You Go and Dwell). But I will have to ignore the little red circles until the morning quiet has been accomplished.
And that is what I’ll be working on for Lent. Of course, Satan is a tricky guy. He doesn’t need a phone to distract me from Jesus, so I’ll also be on the look-out for anything else he decides to throw into my mornings once he realizes the phone tactic is not working. I’m sure he has plenty of other pleasantries up his sleeve. My daily prayer is that I would not be distracted from focused time with the One who gave up everything for me.
May your season of Lent be focused on Jesus in a keen way,
Kim
BLESSING THE DUST
—Jan Richardson
All those days
you felt like dust,
like dirt,
as if all you had to do
was turn your face
toward the wind
and be scattered
to the four corners
or swept away
by the smallest breath
as insubstantial—
did you not know
what the Holy One
can do with dust?
This is the day
we freely say
we are scorched.
This is the hour
we are marked
by what has made it
through the burning.
This is the moment
we ask for the blessing
that lives within
the ancient ashes,
that makes its home
inside the soil of
this sacred earth.
So let us be marked
not for sorrow.
And let us be marked
not for shame.
Let us be marked
not for false humility
or for thinking
we are less
than we are
but for claiming
what God can do
within the dust,
within the dirt,
within the stuff
of which the world
is made
and the stars that blaze
in our bones
and the galaxies that spiral
inside the smudge
we bear.
from Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons