Lent

Philippians 2:5-8

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
But made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death --
even death on a cross!"


This season of Lent dawned yesterday. It's strange to say dawned when we talk of a season focused on repentance, mourning, fasting and confession, where the liturgical color that adorns the altar and covers the windows is black (or dark purple), and it's begun by the imposition of ashes to our foreheads. Not the most cheerful of sunrises. But Lent is amazing for two main purposes, the first is that it points us to Easter. To that great Son rise. The second is that it is a season of rest. Or at least that is how God has revealed it to me.

We are a society of strivers, over achievers, manipulators, controls and perfectionists, and Seminarians are the worst of them all most of the time. But Lent reminds us that we are frail. The woman who marked me yesterday told me as she placed the ashes on my head, "Remember dear one, you are frail, believe in Jesus."

Lent is a time to remember that we are fallen, as individuals and as the human race in its entirety. A time to remember that no amount of striving can grant us the forgiveness our hearts cry out for, that doing good does not undo evil. Lent is a time that reminds us we are helpless when we are faced with our sin. But Lent also reminds us that though we are helpless, we are not hopeless. The ashes are mixed with anointing oil, a reminder of Isaiah 61:3. They are marked in the form of a cross, proclaiming to ourselves and each other that this miraculous exchange takes place under the cross. As Christians we confess that we cannot save ourselves, and instead we have thrown ourselves upon the mercy of the cross.

This Lent God has gently asked me for one thing. He has asked me to abide in him. I'm careful to distinguish "in him" and "with him". As long as I abide with him, I have refused to surrender my will, I continue to struggle and strive and fail. When I learn to find my whole identity consumed by Christ, to literally find my life "now hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3), I will be at peace. The irony of Lent is that for me to obtain the humility of Christ I must first confess that I cannot obtain it on my own. That I must depend on God to give it to me, which implies a faith that he will, and a risk that he won't.

So this Lent is an invitation to rest. To put aside your striving and struggling and find yourself concealed in the arms of a God that loves you enough to die for you the most horrific death. It is an invitation to call upon the abundant and extravagant mercy of our Savior.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen" (Numbers 6:24-26)