I almost forgot about Lent until my friend mentioned it while we were having lunch yesterday, as she mused out loud about what she was giving up.  Oh, crap, I said. Lent.  Ash Wednesday.  After running in these non traditional circles for so long, the Church calendar gets kind of lost in the shuffle...

 

This afternoon, I went to visit a friend in the hospital who just had her baby.  It was a delight to hold a new life in my arms, all fresh and squirmy and teeming with destiny and possibilities.  I had walked with this little one's mom and dad down a sometimes difficult journey that had brought them to this very place. The culmination of many months of tears, joy, decisions, consequences, and celebration lay sleeping in my arms.  I felt a weighty joy as grace seemed to rest upon everything and everyone this precious one encountered. I especially saw this on her parents.  It's no surprise what they chose for her name: Mikayla (a derivative of Michael-meaning "who is like God?" ) Grace.

 

As I left them at the hospital, I decided to try and make the Ash Wednesday service at a local

Methodist church.  I sometimes crave the rhythm and sanctity that  traditional services offer and always find myself gravitating towards them during this season.  I slid into the pew pretty buoyed and joyful from my time at the hospital and the service began.  Now, I am sure most of you know that Ash Wednesday (and Lent as a whole) is all about repentance.  Think Old Testament sack cloth and ashes (hence the ash on your forehead).  This is why people go crazy over Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday.  'Cause come Wed morning, it's time to sober up and reflect on our humanity, our frail flesh, and our sin.  The visiting pastor mentioned in his meditation of how some churches take the upbeat songs and scriptures out of their services during this season to keep the atmosphere very Joel 2 like-fasting, weeping and mourning.  And as I sat there singing, doing the responsive readings, and receiving the ashes on my forehead, I tried my darndest to center myself, to get reflective and, well repent.  But you know what the only thing I wanted to do was?

 

Laugh. And thank God for the good things He has allowed me to see lately.  And maybe sing really loudly. 

 

Of course, I didn't.   I received my ashes like a good Methodist and got out of there.  As I drove away and asked God what the heck was up with all that, this is what I felt like He was saying, "Jess, I am taking you out of Lent and into a new season.  You are no stranger to a broken, contrite heart.  You have wrestled with me and have not let go until I bless you.  So, let go.  It's time to be blessed."

 

Woah.  Do I even know what it means to NOT wrestle, contend and lay before Him in a million pieces? Psalm 51 has became a strange comfort zone of sorts.  I can humble myself into sober reflectiveness til the cows come home, but can I stand in His JOY and BLESSING?  Scripture tells me that this is where I receive my strength, so do I really mean it when I say I want to truly walk in freedom and victory? Because I think those two things are the key. 

 

Well, it seems my Lent is going to look a little different this year.  Like my young parent friends, my wilderness journey is culminating into a time of grace. So, I guess I am giving up Lent for Lent?  It's not facebook or chocolate, but we shall see how this goes ;).

 

 

*disclaimer: this blog is by no means trying to diminish the significance of the Lenten season, our need for repentance or what scripture clearly states as ways of ushering in transformation (i.e. Joel 2, 2 Chronicles 7:14).  These revelations have become foundational in my spiritual walk.  I am just communicating where God has brought me from and where I think He is bringing me to in this particular season of my life.  Thanks for sharing in it with me.