Confessions of a Mid-Lent Crisis

I have never completed a Lenten discipline.

Such confession may cause you to breathe a sigh of relief or perhaps, make a judgment. Recently a parishioner heard me say this in all its honesty, "Really, you too?" Certainly I have tried to be disciplined. I have made charts to plot the journey and laid out calendars to mark off those exhilarating moments when the discipline was seen through for the day. I have worn bracelets of reminder, circled arenas of friends for accountability. I've tried the Forty Days of Purpose and the Serendipity Study Bible charts and graphs. But always something causes me to lose my focus, to lay down the cross thereby leaving me unable to cross this desire off my list: to complete a Lenten discipline.

Eugene Peterson says "Disciplines are overrated. Discipline is a word that should be struck from our theological lexicon." Some might hear his words as dismissive for those of us seeking to be disciplined disciples of Christ. But others might nudge from these words the deepest of truths: Christ is Lord and Savior, not us. My failure helps me to follow the one who is discipline, the one who is disciplined, the one who calls us to follow him -- not our charts, plots or ploys. On the days when I need even further encouragement for the undisciplined journey ahead, I can fall back into the strange safety net of Calvin's total depravity that Father Killian understood even in his discipline. We are saved by grace, not by our own doings or undoings.

Still, echoes of all those Lenten 'shoulds' reverberate through my mind and heart. If I am to strike 'discipline' from my theological lexicon, then what am I to do this Lent?

This Lent, I've been reading Lauren Winner's "Still: Confessions of a Mid-Faith Crisis." Winner encourages a new Lenten practice of letting go of the shoulds and instead living into a new conversation. She speaks of the logismoi the Desert Fathers named which are alternative narratives that guide us: gluttony, greed, dejection, anger, pride, listlessness, vainglory and lust. My prayer, with her encouragement, is to live into new conversations this Lent. This Lent will be less about limitation and instead an invitation to listen.

So I start to listen to those internal narratives. I hear a lot of this: if only, when..., I wish, later, I don't want to, I want, I should, if.... then. And I begin to realize these may be my internal narratives, but they certainly are not incarnational narratives.

Even in the first words Jesus utters, he invites all of us into a new narrative. Let it be so now, Jesus commands in Matthew 3:15. The time has come. The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the Good News, Mark 1:15 offers breathlessly. Why were you searching for me? Didn't you know I'd be in my Father's house? Luke 2:49 tells the story of Jesus' conversation with the rabbis in the temple. Come and you will see, John 1:39.

These words call us to do three things: get out of our heads, get into the sanctuary and get out into the broken world to serve. Now. Internal narratives are easy. They reverberate with the logismoi of gluttony, greed, dejection, anger, pride, listlessness, vainglory and lust. Christ turns these conversations around with simple commands that enact the incarnation and invite the practice of resurrection: Now. Come. Repent. Know. See.

As a leader in the church, there are days I ache and pray for new conversations. Can we let go of some of our old litanies? These are the narratives that preserve the old, minimize anxiety and give us power and control. As a Lenten invitation, can our churches let go of some of the logismoi that bind us and live into the lexicon Christ teaches? The church lives and breathes, all too often, phrases like: if only, when, I wish, I want, if... then. How might our corporate narratives find new life this Lent by listening to the Christ who says boldly: Now. Come. Repent. Know. See. What would these claims call us into? What would we let go of if we lived into the fullness of these commands?

If I strike 'discipline' from the theological lexicon, I have a few new words to add. These words, by grace, save us and guide us through Lent as we listen in to a new conversation that is much less internal, and much more incarnational. Now. Come. See.

 

Comments

[OleProfessor]

12:08 AM on 04/02/2012

The only things Jesus wanted us to give up was Hate, Envy, Hypocrisy, Greed, Judgement, Pride and Violence..

Try giving those up, and keep eating Broccoli or enjoying a glass of wine..!

[sisuliisa]

07:54 AM on 04/02/2012

Well said.

[sisuliisa]

08:27 AM on 04/02/2012

This Lent I read "Flunking Sainthood" by Jana Riess - which is an exposition of failure in the practices of faith. Her writing is poignant, witty and wise. In the end, she flunks sainthood but rises to the occasion when a difficult relationship demands the deepest of loves. The book is worth reading for the journey of confession along the way, and the moment of clarity that comes in the end.

[Christ plus NOTHING]

11:47 PM on 04/01/2012

I'm trying to give up the idea that anything that I can do will improve me (in the eyes of God).

I learned a long time ago with my New Year's resolutions that my seriousness isn't really all that serious. Especially where God is concerned.

Thankfully though, His serious for me (us) cannot be shaken.

Thanks.

[Gpiano88]

11:05 PM on 04/01/2012

What have the rich and the Aristocracy have given up for Lent? It's all based upon guilt. The fact that society is based upon material wealth is a way for the Church to further their agenda. Keep the masses down by making them guilty for being ambitious.

[Angela Bordonaro]

10:17 PM on 04/01/2012

What a great commentary about Lent. I have never practiced a lenten discipline since the church I went to as a child never did this. That said, I think we all run into things we say we should do or make plans of what we are giving up then when we fail we beat ourselves up. Christ was perfect, we aren't.

[Kate Blanchard]

06:10 PM on 04/01/2012

This reminds me of one year when I was in seminary, that a group of my friends challenged me to give up "should" for Lent. It was surprisingly liberating! People who try to be "good Christians" are annoyingly hard on themselves - and by extension, everyone else. For a change, I think it's a good challenge to see if we can just be NOW, as you say. I think we'll find we are always living in befores and laters - discipline is determined by those who came before us, and the consequences of our actions - which kills joy. Where is the "good news" if all Christians care about is being disciplined? To what end?

[John Magnuson]

05:12 PM on 04/01/2012

The idea of nixing discipline can be a scary one. But when we let go of the boundaries which restrain us from so many opportunities to worship God, what else do we gain? When we stop thinking "I can't do this" or "I must do this", what are we truly focusing on but the action itself. I love the image of a church formed by its center in Christ instead of a church set up by its boundaries. With a church set up by boundaries we often do feel safe, knowing that you must meet these requirements to "get in". But a church set up by its center, the boundaries are limitless of where Christ can go. I imagine Christ taking us into new places into the world; taking us into neighborhoods often neglected, into peoples lives we would rather stay out of, into avenues of worship unfamiliar or scary. While some may scoff at getting rid of discipline as lazy or a cop out, I believe it is truly an act of faith. When we realize that we are truly unable to be our own saviors, we free ourselves up to follow our true savior, Jesus. May we leave discipline up to him, asking us now to come and see.