For years now I have observed Lent in some fashion. Honestly, some seasons I've taken more seriously than others. But I have learned to appreciate Lent as a form of prayer that has just as much to do with "taking on" than "giving up." I discovered through some Catholic and Episcopal friends that when you give up something on which you depend--(such as chocolate... you know who you are)--you are also supposed to replace it with taking on a virtue. In other words, instead of facebooking, you might spend that time cultivating a fruit of God's Spirit like goodness or patience or kindness.
This year I am trying to reconcile the somber repentance of Lent with a passage I have been preaching from Isaiah 61 when God promises to replace ashes with a garland. But reconciling is not hard. It's not hard because we live between the times. We still wear ashes in this world, not only on Ash Wednesday, but every time we walk alongside someone experiencing loss. The beauty of worship is that we come together to repent in our ashes while simultaneously celebrating the forgiveness we crave. To read Isaiah 61 with Jesus in Luke 4 is to long for a kingdom still unfolding, a kingdom where our garland crowns only cover the ashes beneath.
So this year I am giving up some computer usage that for whatever reason has become more ubiquitous than I would like to admit. In its stead, I want to spend this season cultivating peace. Many of you, O faithful bloggerland readers, know that my life is in a state of upheaval as our family prepares to move to Houston to be with the Bering Drive Church of Christ. With packing and driving and selling and closing and borrowing and all around routine-shifting... well... opportunities abound for "not peace." But because God is in the process of giving us grace beyond what we can ask or imagine, his peace passes our feeble understanding. It's the promise of a garland, even when our heads are covered in ashes.
