And he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. And he was with the wild animals, and the angels were ministering to him. [Mark 1:13 (ESV)]
As I pondered my goals for this year’s Lenten practice, I remembered Alica Britt Chole’s suggestion to “consider Lent as less of a project and more of a sojourn.” While we often encounter the word ”sojourn” in Scripture, it’s not a word typically used today. Although the basic meaning of gûr, the Hebrew word translated at sojourn, is to “live, settle, dwell,” gûr usually included the sense of it being a temporary or transient stay. Typically, a sojourner was someone living outside their clan or a noncitizen in a strange place. Because of famine, Israel sojourned in Egypt for 430 years and, because of their disobedience, they sojourned forty years in the desert before entering the Promised Land. It is Jesus’ 40-day sojourn in the wilderness before entering His public ministry that is remembered in Lent.
The usual question prior to Ash Wednesday is, “What are you giving up for Lent?” and the question following Easter is, “How did you do?” If someone else doesn’t ask it, we ask it of ourselves. Were we successful in refraining from sweets, social media, criticism, shopping, or whatever we gave up? Did we meet our goal of reading the four gospels or memorizing 40 Bible verses? Was our commitment to a daily random act of kindness kept? With its clear start and end dates, Lent easily can turn into an assigned forty-day project. It’s tempting to look at our Lenten practice as we might a New Year’s resolution—we set an objective, create a plan, track our progress, and evaluate our success or failure. God, however, is a relationship, not an obligation or duty! With their thinking that salvation lay in strict observance of the oral and written Law, the Pharisees turned God into a job; we mustn’t make the same mistake with Lent.
If, however, we view Lent as a sojourn rather than an assignment, it becomes an experience instead of a chore. Rather than an objective that must be completed successfully on the 40th day, Lent becomes a temporary journey in the wilderness with God. Rather than 40 days of trying to meet goals, it becomes a blessed season of retreat—a time to hear God’s voice in the silence of the wilderness—a time to feel His presence in the stunning colors of the desert sunset, the stark contrast between sun and shadow, the enormous saguaros cactus with its upturned arms, and the wildflowers determined to grow in this parched and barren land. Without a timeline, we can pause to taste the nopales and fruit of the prickly pear and look for road runners and Gila monsters. Unhindered by city lights, we see God’s majesty in the spectacular view of the stars. Granted, we probably won’t be retreating to the desert but, when we think of Lent as a sojourn with God in the wilderness, it can become a close encounter with Him rather than a job for Him!
Describing Lent as a journey of “bright sadness,” Orthodox Reverend Alexander Schmemann says, “The purpose of Lent is not to force on us a few formal obligations, but to ‘soften’ our heart so that it may open itself to the realities of the spirit, to experience the hidden ‘thirst and hunger’ for communion with God.” Through fasting, prayer, study, and reflection, may we grow closer to God as we sojourn through the wilderness of this Lenten season into the joy of the Resurrection!
We tend to think of fasting during Lent as abstaining from certain foods, drinks, or activities. Several years ago, however, I was asked, “What if you fasted regret? What if your friends fasted comparison? What would be the fruit of fasting stinginess?” Those questions proposed an entirely different kind of fast than refraining from sweets or social media. In truth, fasting from things like self-righteousness, discontent, and criticism is probably harder (and more meaningful) than giving up energy drinks or dining out.
Every evening, a man went to the local pub and ordered three beers. When asked why three, he explained that he ordered the two extra beers in honor of his two dear brothers who lived far away. One evening, when the man ordered only two beers, the bartender assumed the worst and extended sympathy for the loss of a brother. Correcting the bartender, the man said his brothers were both fit as fiddles and the beers were for them. “It’s me that’s not drinking tonight,” he explained. “You see, I’ve given up beer for Lent!”
In a cartoon drawn by Paul Noth, an enormous political billboard overlooks a pasture inhabited by a flock of sheep. Looking up at the picture of a grinning wolf in coat and tie saying, “I am going to eat you!” one sheep tells another, “He tells it like it is.” Would that all politicians were so forthright!
“How was work today?” asked the wife in the Born Loser comic strip (drawn by Chip Sansom). Her husband answered, “Horrendous!” adding, “It feels so good that it’s over, I’m almost glad it happened!” Having had times when my prayer was simply, “Lord, just get me through this!” I understand. Sometimes, life seems so challenging and exhausting that we’re willing to settle for merely getting through it. That, dear friend, is setting the bar far too low. God has better plans for us than just getting by and none of us are born losers.
When told that the gifts the Holy Spirit gives us are unique for our specific ministries, we get nervous. We already have a career, didn’t sign up for seminary, and aren’t interested in being ministers. While being a minister/pastor/priest is a vocation, the ministry is the work of every Christian. No matter what our professions, we are all called to minister and that doesn’t necessarily mean pastoring a church. It means serving God and His people in Jesus’ name, which is where those spiritual gifts come in. God is not about to send us off empty-handed.
Devotions of the Heart 