Opening Prayer:
Gracious God, today begins a period of inner reflection and examination. The days stretch before me and invite me inward to that silent, holy space that holds your Spirit. This special time beckons me to see my life through Christ's eyes and the truth and reality of your love incarnate. Give me the grace to enter the space of these days with anticipation of our meeting. And, when I open my soul to your presence, let your loving kindness flow over me and seep into the pockets of my heart. I ask this for the sake of your love.
Psalm for the Week: Psalm 63
Scripture for the Day: Matthew 6:1-21
Reading for Reflection:
Dorothy Sayers
writes that to make the Easter story into something that neither startles,
shocks, terrifies, nor excites is “to crucify the Son of God afresh.” Certainly that would have been unthinkable
for Jesus’ first followers, who experienced it firsthand: the heady excitement
of his entry into Jerusalem, the traitorous cunning of Judas and the guilty
recognition of their own cowardice, the terror of his slow suffocation, and
finally the disarming wonder of an empty grave and a living body resurrected
from the dead.
As for us, his latter-day disciples, few
would deny the magnitude or drama of these events. But how many of us embrace their pain and
promise? How many of us, even at Easter,
give Christ’s death and resurrection any more attention than the weather?
To observe Lent is to strike at the root
of such complacency. Lent (literally
“springtime”) is a time of preparation, a time to return to the desert where
Jesus spent forty trying days readying for his ministry. He allowed himself to be tested, and if we
are serious about following him, we will do the same.
First popularized in the fourth century,
Lent is traditionally associated with penitence, fasting, almsgiving, and
prayer. It is time for “giving things
up” balanced by “giving to” those in need.
Yet whatever else it may be, Lent should never be morose—an annual
ordeal during which we begrudgingly forgo a handful of pleasures. Instead, we ought to approach Lent as an
opportunity, not a requirement. After
all, it is meant to be the church’s springtime, a time when, out of the
darkness of sin’s winter, a repentant, empowered people emerges. No wonder one liturgy refers to it as “this
joyful season.”
Put another way, Lent is the season in
which we ought to be surprised by joy.
Our self-sacrifices serve no purpose unless, by laying aside this or
that desire, we are able to focus on our heart’s deepest longing: unity with
Christ. In him—in his suffering and
death, his resurrection and triumph—we find our truest joy.
Such joy is costly, however. It arises from the horror of our sin, which
crucified Christ. This is why Meister
Eckhart points out that those who have the hardest time with Lent are the “god
people.” Most of us are willing to give
up a thing or two; we may also admit our need for renewal. But to die with Christ?
Spiritual masters often refer to a kind of
“dread,” the nagging sense that we have missed something important and have
been somehow untrue—to ourselves, to others, to God. Lent is a good time to confront the source of
that feeling. It is a time to let go of
excuses for failings and shortcomings; a time to stop hanging on to whatever
shreds of goodness we perceive in ourselves; a time to ask God to show us what
we really look like. Finally, it is a
time to face up to the personal role each of us plays in prolonging Christ’s
agony at Golgotha. As Richard John
Neuhaus (paraphrasing John Donne) advises, “Send not to know by whom the nails
were driven; they were driven by you, by me.”
And yet our need for repentance
cannot erase the good news that Christ overcame all sin. His resurrection frees us from
ourselves. His empty tomb turns our
attention away from all that is wrong with us and with the world, and spurs us
on to experience the abundant life he promises. (Bread and Wine; Readings for Lent and Easter, The Plow
Publishing house)
Reflection and Listening: silent and written
Prayer: for the church, for others, for myself
Song for the Week: Jesus I My Cross Have Taken
Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heaven are still my own.
Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
O while Thou dost smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me,
Show Thy face and all is bright.
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn and pain
In Thy service, pain is pleasure,
With Thy favor, loss is gain
I have called Thee Abba Father,
I have stayed my heart on Thee
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather;
All must work for good to me.
Soul, then know thy full salvation
Rise o’er sin and fear and care
Joy to find in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father’s smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to win thee,
Child of heaven, canst thou repine.
Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith, and winged by prayer.
Heaven’s eternal days before thee,
God’s own hand shall guide us there.
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
Closing Prayer:O God of peace, who has taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in trust shall be our strength: by the power of your Spirit lift us, we pray, to your presence, where we may be still and know that you are God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (The Book of Common Prayer)
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