Lent Devotional

by Ronna Case

Breath prayers and yoga stretches brought me out of a melt-down last Friday. I’d been tearing my hair out and crying, really, with computer frustration for some minutes, when I thought: Do yoga! So I did and I felt like I’d been welcomed home!

It was amazing, like docking my boat or finding my mate. Dare I call it an encounter with “God”? It felt divine. I felt the Divine encountering me, welcoming me, loving me, forgiving me. The wonder and quiet joy of it surprised me. Doing maybe ten sequences I had distracting thoughts as before, but fewer. And when I stopped, I felt rested and hopeful and cleaner.

I realized, then, that I had been weeping not just because of narcissistic ego wounds related to my lack of computer skills. I’d been crying for other reasons as well. The night before, at a community garden meeting, I’d heard that a man I’d met last summer has been kicked out of the garden. He’d offended nearly every gardener there, trying to be garden manager. Lacking the gift of hospitality, he tended to be critical and seemed a discontented human being, who didn’t like children to be in the garden. Though we are relieved he won’t be in the garden this summer, a few of us also feel so sad for him because it was his sacred place, his garden of Eden. I also felt sorry for myself, because the guy lives in my neighborhood and is a member of gym I use! I’m bound to see him before too long. What can I possibly say?

And my friend Guadalupe had called from Mexico City earlier that morning. She was crying, which she’s never done before. She said she had an acute health crisis and no extra money for the doctor. She spent the “extra” last month on her daughter’s health problem. She was so scared and embarrassed to have to call for help again. Fortunately there were some things I could do, including praying with her on the phone. Some of my tears were for her, a widow who was denied a pension after her husband, a bookmaker, died several years ago. She lives with 5 adult children who have poorly paying jobs and is my scared friend.

During and after breath prayers and yoga stretches, I could see my melt-down in the bigger context. I felt less unbalanced for weeping with computer frustration; that was just “the last straw.”

As we come to Holy Week and Passover, I want to say this Lenten practice, including blogging to you, has been a real blessing. I understand that I need to continue to pray and to stretch. I feel able to do that. It has begun to feel like a core practice, one that calls out to me saying, “I am here for you. Sincerely, God.”

Spiritually and physically the key is “strengthening my core.” Core strength comes from knowing God is there for me. It grows as I trust that the Holy Covenant community is there for me. And that I am there for me, in new spiritual practices that I mean to take with me, as I step into my day, my life, the Universe.

by Maggie Roth

And so we reached the final Sunday in our Sabbath journey. Part of me is a little sad that the end is here but another part of me has awakened to the experience in a way I didn’t expect and leaves me extremely grateful.

The adoption of this practice has been so much more than the changing of our habits on Sunday. Though I’ve felt at times I’ve been “keeping score“ rather than enjoying the Sabbath, I know that this experience has been much more. It’s caused me to examine how much I’m willing to change and to honestly assess my faith and how I live it. One of the questions I keep running into as we’ve built our weeks around Sunday is – are we really a Christian family? What does that even mean? Could you tell our family apart from a non-Christian family? Are we actually practicing our Christian values?

I know we’re trying more now than ever before, and that’s not an easy endeavor. We live in the midst of a world where status and respectability seem to be mixed up with fancy houses and fancy clothes. I know better and can honestly say I’ve made my peace with that rat race, but I wonder if my children will. How do I help form the minds of little ones so that they know that God is so much more awesome than anything the world has to offer?

I’ve started realizing how much of our lives (food, clothing, you name it) is built around the mistreatment of others. I’m constantly stunned at how much we unwittingly affect others across the globe. To that end, I have tried to incorporate some new practices in our lives (though we have a looong way to go) and I think this Sabbath journey ties into this. Somehow, in the midst of all this awareness and all this restructuring, there is a path forming. Our family is still trying to find trail, but we’re out here, looking around, trying to figure out how to make our way through the mud.

I admitted last week that we’ve been much better about taking the commercialism out of our Sundays than we have putting God back in. It was kind of embarrassing to state that, but I have to think that honesty is the best policy in these situations. Life doesn’t always unfold in a grand mystical way. But then again I think this Lenten journey has formed a foundation that we will build upon. Mike and I have already agreed that we want to continue this beyond Easter Sunday. Perhaps not to the rigid standards we’ve been keeping, but we’ll keep the tradition going.

How I wish there were more resources available to us young families trying to figure out this messy wonderful life. Is there a United Methodist family blog?? I kinda doubt it. But, my goodness, I’d love to see one. I’d love to hear how others are muddling through also.

I had hoped that Lent would be a more meaningful experience this year than it had previously. Hands down, it has been. We are so grateful to have been challenged to make a significant change. In fact, I don’t want to monkey around with dumb sacrifices that are meaningless anymore. What does giving up sweets have to do with giving more of my life to Jesus? It seems so silly now. Lent has forever been altered in my life and I’m so glad for it! This is about concentrating on the life Jesus called us to lead and trying to follow him. To actually practice our Christianity.

So thank you, Holy Covenant, for holding us to this Lenten commitment. Thank you, God, for helping us recalibrate what it means to live a life where you are front and center rather than in the background.

And now, without further ado, let’s hear it for Easter!

by Dale Jones

“Finish strong.” I had heard this encouragement from coaches, teachers, and others as a game, season, or school term moved toward an end. Coming into the final week of Lent, I resolved to reclaim my originally-intended but oft-forsaken Lenten discipline. I would set aside that brief quiet time each day, I would get some aerobic exercise most days. So far, I have. With a few days of Lent remaining, my Lenten practice has returned to or exceeded the level of the first week. I am finishing strong.

The problem of course is what I did – or didn’t do – with the weeks in between. In the forty days (plus Sundays) of Lent, I will complete at most twenty days from the “100 Days of Integrity” devotional guide I set out to make a daily part of my Lenten practice. I went days on end without putting on my jogging shoes. Thinking of the few minutes of college basketball I took time to watch during “March Madness,” even though I am now gaining momentum, the clock will run out before I can regain the lead. Often I have rationalized my delinquency because of heavy and unplanned work demands, which seemed to commence and then multiply starting about the second week of Lent. In honesty, however, my intended Lenten practice seems like Lent “lite” – not intense enough for even the most grueling schedule to justify abandoning it so often. Clearly, I have yet to master the discipline of staying focused and keeping priorities ordered when things get fast and furious. A challenge for the days and the Lents to come.

While not claiming a “win” in my Lenten practice, the effort been more than worthwhile. If my Lenten journey has not taken me all the way to Jerusalem with Jesus, it has taken me closer than no journey at all. I am especially grateful to have been part of this blogging project, which proved as I thought initially: the reasons I was reluctant to participate were the very reasons I needed to. Blogging meant identifying a Lenten practice I could blog about, which meant I could not just wholly ignore these weeks of preparation. Even all the times I let urgencies usurp my practice, I was aware of the season, aware of what I should be doing, how I should be living. That awareness at times caused twinges of guilt, true, but more significantly it helped me acknowledge God’s presence in daily situations and settings where I would have otherwise overlooked God. Blogging also meant I read the posts of fellow bloggers, whose candid sharing invariably brought ideas and perspective that enriched my Lenten journey and helped me true up my course.

As noted in an earlier post, I became more aware of measures of grace in my life and undertakings. Words from the old hymn “Grace Greater than Our Sin” have come to me regularly over these last few weeks, almost becoming a substitute Lenten practice during the busiest and most stress-filled occasions:

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured,
There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.

Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Grace that exceeds flunking Lent 101, straying from the journey, letting the urgent crowd out the important. Thanks be to God. Amen.

by Vicky Nabors

On Monday, while driving Dee (my fiancée) to campus for her morning classes, I was hit by a thought that touched me deeply. Jesus gave his life for me: Victoria Lynne Nabors. And what’s great about this thought is that he didn’t make this heart-wrenching sacrifice because I was male/female, black/white, straight/gay, fat/skinny, sinner/saint, or achieved/under-achieved. He gave his life for me because I was worthy. I didn’t even have to prove myself as worthy by achieving great feats as I’ve had to do most of my life; what an awesome feeling.

I’ve always believed that every interaction, situation, or event is a learning opportunity; and that we’re never too old to learn. Therefore, this Lenten blogging project has taught me the importance of placing life’s pains at God’s feet; after forgiveness is achieved. And even though I have always had a strong determination to stay focused on God, this six week journey thorough the wilderness with Jesus has created in me a higher level of awareness in how I achieve this goal.

As an individual whose characteristics include: Black American, female, butch lesbian, over-weight, eccentric creative/intellectual personality, etc., I know my life will continue to be filled with injustices. I’ll be misunderstood, disrespected, and mistreated; but so was Jesus! I am deeply humbled and grateful to Jesus as I’m reminded of the symbolic importance of this Lenten season. It’s about love, unconditional love! And when I look at the bigger picture of my life, I can see how the weights of my past have prevented me from growing closer to God. What a wonderful feeling it is to step out of this experience feeling like one of a multitude of beautiful bright lights shinning in God’s universe; knowing I am equally loved.

As Pastor Kate said, it’s bitter sweet to internalize how my savior was brutally slain, but then rose from the dead that my sins might be forgiven. My emotions here are profoundly unspeakable.

I’ll close with a prayer of thanks:

“Holy Creator God of light, I am most thankful to you for providing me this spiritual growth opportunity. Thank you for loving me when I could not love myself, thank you for hearing my years of prayers for deliverance from the pains that wrecked my soul, for drying my tears, and providing comfort and guidance when I was lost and felt that every part of me was wrong. Father, I thank you for not letting me fall into the darkness of defeat when I most wanted to. Thank you for showing me the pure trueness of unconditional love and self-acceptance. And Lord, I am most grateful to you God for guiding me to Holy Covenant United Methodist Church … I feel reborn and renewed in your light. Thank you Jesus for giving your life for me – Hallelujah!”

by Carlos Rios

“When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’” Luke 23:33-34

As we continue through our Lenten journey, we have finally entered the “home stretch” of Holy Week. Our destination is no longer as far away as we remembered and we are filled with hope of the new life that awaits us in Easter. As I’m writing this, it is Monday of Holy Week and the joy of Palm Sunday—the hosannas, the palm fronds, the music, the excitement—is still fresh in my heart. But the story doesn’t end there, of course. Jesus rode into town and received a hero’s welcome, only to face ridicule and death on Good Friday.

As the week progressed, Jesus faced a betrayal, a sham trial, and execution amongst thieves. What a shocking turn of events over the course of a week! Yet in the midst of all of this, while Jesus was hanging on the cross, he utters the phrase above to forgive those who were ridiculing, condemning, and murdering him. I can only imagine the pain and difficulty that came along with that “breath prayer” that Jesus made on the cross: not just physical pain, but the emotional pain of betrayal, mockery, rejection, and abandonment. Yet in the midst of all of this, Christ forgives and asks God to forgive the crowds.

Forgiveness is a difficult process because it always involves someone being wronged. In forgiving you have to identify hurt, deal with hurt, release the hurt, and restore your relationship with the person that has caused you to hurt. Often we think it’s easier to just remain hurt or angry, but this allows bitterness to take root within our souls and chokes our hearts. It constricts our capacity to love.

It is through prayer that our hearts and minds become open to God’s restorative work within us. Jesus asked God to forgive the crowds in the midst of unspeakable hurt. Although our highs and lows are admittedly not as severe, in following Christ’s example we should also forgive one another.

This week I did a lot of praying and practiced a lot of forgiveness. For those who didn’t know, my car was stolen last Monday. Over the course of the week I prayed that my car would turn up in at least decent condition. I prayed for the people who stole my car, too. I simply couldn’t fathom how someone could be so bold as to even do something like that.

I prayed that God would forgive whoever was responsible for the theft of my vehicle. I asked that God would help ME to forgive and to not allow the situation to impact my ability to trust and to love. I found myself echoing Jesus’ sentiment that that God would forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Thankfully, Jesus’ story and my story both have happy endings. My car was recovered late Thursday night. On Friday I was able to retrieve my car and have new keys made and was blessed every step along the way: from our very own Jeff Rossen who gave me a ride from place to place, to the gracious people at the impound lot, to the patient people at the Honda dealer, I had miracles occur all the while. I can only attribute these blessings to God’s grace, the incredible thoughts and prayers of my friends and family, and my intentional prayer practice.

We may have reached the end of this journey, but that certainly doesn’t mean it’s over. When Jesus rose from the tomb it was the beginning of something brand new. I can and will continue to focus on prayer and reflect on what I’ve learned in the wilderness. Let us all go forward together stronger from our journey and ready for the newness that only Christ can bring.

Amen.

by Rob Rawls

Yesterday was a bad day.

Actually, it wasn’t just a bad day. It was a miserably bad day. A seconds-away-from-an-emotional-breakdown, miserably bad day. Of course, now that the work project that was hanging over me is over and I’ve had a good night’s sleep, I can see that compared to a lot of people out there (and probably in our Holy Covenant community) it wasn’t all that bad.

I went to work. I ate breakfast and lunch. I came home to my partner and my dog. I got in my car and went to small group. All of my friends and family were safe and healthy. I didn’t have to worry about where I was going to get my next meal or if I was going to be able to keep my home. So no… Not really that bad of a day.

At the time, though, I wasn’t thinking that clearly.

On my way to small group last night, one of the group members who I car pool reminded me that everything would be better in a couple of hours. “There’s not much that a potluck can’t fix,” she said.

I think she’s right.

We had a celebration dinner during our small group. We didn’t just bring food–we brought our favorite food. We drank sparkling cider and had eggplant parmesan and lasagna and potatoes and salads. We talked about the things that had given us joy over the past few weeks and the things that we could do to create more joy for ourselves and for those we see on a daily basis.

And after that, dessert. Upside down cake. Red velvet cake. Homemade chocolate candies.

Finally we celebrated communion. In a circle, we each had the chance to serve each other and support each other through the bread and cup.

Since Ash Wednesday, I have focused on intentional eating. I have avoided processed foods. I have avoided unethical foods. I have tried to support local food suppliers and small businesses instead of corporations and mass production. Most of all, I have tried to remember the blessing of food.

Last night was a blessing.

When I came home from our celebration dinner, the seconds-away-from-an-emotional-breakdown, miserably bad day wasn’t erased. In a week, though, I’ll have probably already forgotten why I had such a bad day. In a year, I won’t be able to even remember if it was a bad day or not.

I won’t forget the potluck rule, though. I’ll remember that getting together with friends, eating really good food, and opening yourself up for even just a few moments can fix almost anything.

“For these and all God’s mercies, God’s holy Name be blessed and praised; through Jesus Christ our Lord.” – A prayer before meals from The Book of Common Prayer.

by Andrew Schumacher

So here we are moving into Holy Week already. And so it’s time for my final Lenten post. This past Wednesday of fasting was more or less like the previous weeks. It was a day of preparation, not just preparing for the coming passion of Christ, but a day of preparation in anticipation of my wife and I moving on Thursday. So going about my routine, all day long I knew we had our work cut out for us Wednesday night with lots of packing that still needed to get done. Wednesday then, was kind of the calm before the storm. Fasting grounded me in an otherwise hectic time. But then it was time to break the fast and get to work! And oh boy I couldn’t wait to tear open the bag of Leo’s Coney Island takeout we picked up for dinner and start shoveling in hot dog covered with chili.

Food is soooo good after fasting all day…

Here’s the deal. I wish I had a master revelation to share with everyone after carrying out my Lenten master plan. But I don’t think that quite occurred. However, here are some thoughts and reflections from the past several weeks of Lenten discipline that have been floating around in my head and heart.

1. To start, fasting, on a physical level, turned out to be a little easier than I’d thought it’d be. Part of me doesn’t want to admit this to you or to myself because somehow it seems more legitimate, more hardcore, to have to persevere through something really difficult. My body, much to my surprise, tolerated the no-food-only-water thing pretty well. Sure, I was darn hungry all day long, no doubt. But it was a fairly low level hunger, no sharp pains or headache like I’ve had before. When it comes down to it, I can only thank God for sustaining me through in this way. Thanks be to God!

2. When it would come time to break the fast each week, I got very excited for food, which is natural I suppose. But as I would begin to eat again, I sometimes found myself eating with a sort of urgency, or even with a little greed mixed in. It’s as if I felt like I needed to store up extra food for my body. There was something about it that I didn’t like. It felt like my body and mind weren’t trusting the whole “give us this day our daily bread” thing and instead were hedging on God providing that next meal. I’m not totally sure what to make of this feeling, but I definitely found myself saying, “Whoa, Andrew, just be thankful for this meal that God provided. That’s enough for now.” I try to thank God for each meal I consume, but fasting made me realize I don’t always trust enough in each meal being a true blessing from God.

3. Given the “right” circumstances, I actually do enjoy spending time in devotion to God with Bible study and prayer. I qualify with “right” circumstances because I realize that too often I’m trying to shoe horn it in with too many other things going on. And that just doesn’t work. Or, another common theme is that I have trouble staying awake because it’s the end of the day. Here’s where my Lenten discipline of starting Wednesday mornings with Bible study and prayer made a big difference. I was awake! I could be quiet and calm, focusing on God’s presence, without falling asleep! Revolutionary. Most of the time I feel like Jesus’s disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane having fallen asleep each time Jesus comes back to them. Pathetic I tell myself! But then there I go again, nodding off. Surely I can do better about working this time into any given non-fasting day so that I’m awake and alert while showing my devotion to God.

4. Here’s some scripture I came across this past Wednesday. It’s from John 6:54.

“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.”

This of course sounded crazy to Jesus’s followers because at the time they couldn’t have understood exactly what he meant. Two-thousand years later, it’s easy to think dipping-the-bread-into-the-cup kind of thoughts when hearing these words from Jesus. But over the course of these weeks I’ve thought more about the **real** aspect of what Jesus offers all of us. When we strive to participate fully in what Jesus Chris offers, we’re given life abundant. Maybe it’s not the life we expected or wanted, or maybe it’s even a life of being hungry sometimes or most times, but it is real living. It is what we were meant for.

I thank God for having seen me through these 40 days and pray that I can open myself up to feasting on God’s abundant life and love. And that will be enough to satisfy my hunger.

Thanks for reading!

by Ronna Case

I missed some days. No yoga and no breath prayers. I’ve been fighting a cold since Friday by sleeping big parts of two days and drinking Emergen-C twice a day. It seems to have worked, because I don’t have the usual major cold symptoms.

As I write this post, it is Tuesday. With sunshine and a view of the blue lake, I began again by praying “Create in me, a clean heart, O God,” with yoga.

Eyes closed sometimes, then open. Distracting thoughts entered, then I would return to breathing and praying. It was like waves, like a dance.

Very nice!

In a few minutes, Brady is coming by to help me with computer issues. I found him again, thank goodness. Through this Lenten time of silence, yoga stretches, and praying, I have felt more at peace about my feeling of information overload. Alvin Toffler wrote about where I am in his book Future Shock in the 80’s. With some help I am hoping to simplify my life and manage data, information, and my projects more regularly and smoothly.

I am feeling good about the process! Even though I missed some days…

by Dale Jones

I have been hoping no one other than me noticed my blog post was missing last week. If so, perhaps I should not have called attention to my omission. On the other hand, an old adage proclaims “confession is good for the soul,” and this soul has a lot to ‘fess up to. For starters, any semblance of my Lenten practice has largely evaporated in the last couple weeks.

If I was flunking Lent 101 before, now I was not even showing up for class.

As my schedule deteriorated from somewhat crazy to nearly insane, I failed at every attempt to write last week’s blog. First of all, with my Lenten practice supplanted by working most of my waking hours, there was little inspiring to blog about. Probably there is a spiritual dimension to short-notice trips to meet with a troubled client and the attendant preparations, but I was too absorbed in responding to these unusual, pressing needs to find the Holy. Secondly, each time I made an effort to write the blog entry – usually well past any reasonable bedtime – I fell asleep at my keyboard, awaking after some minutes to find I had typed many pages of the letter “k.” (Not a very meaningful blog entry.) After a few nights of these fruitless efforts, I decided to invoke the grace I hoped was present in a pre-Lent message to bloggers from the Communications Committee: “Your thoughts and views are what is important to us–not making sure that you keep to a strict schedule.” I conceded that blogging was just not going to happen.

Sleep-deprived and somewhat mentally spent, I decided not to cancel a weekend getaway planned weeks ago during an airfare sale. Away from the office and (most of) its unmet deadlines and impending meeting preparations, my Lenten discipline flickered back to life temporarily. I returned to Lexington, Kentucky, a former home for several years, to visit a college-student son and worship with the congregation that was my church family during those years.

Here I did find the Holy.

While many names and faces have changed since I moved from there, St Luke UMC in Lexington remains a vibrant, growing congregation, almost as exciting as Holy Covenant – and that is saying a lot! Pastor Debbie Wallace-Padgett preached poignantly about roll-coasters: her way of illustrating the ups and downs of the Israelites’ relationship with God.

“Yep,” I thought, “my walk with God is roller-coaster-ish right now.”

As my son and I trekked through Raven Run Nature Preserve down to the Kentucky River overlook, then huffed and puffed our way back up the hill, the occasional emanation of wildflowers whispered words of re-creation. This woodland trail felt like it could be the road to Jerusalem. I spent a few hours with cherished friends from St Luke church. One of my friends, at the age where he might have disengaged from church life to focus on his granddaughters and his Social Security checks, was instead pursuing licensing as a local pastor. Bob had always been effective at encouraging and leading others to deeper faith, but his new engagement in disciple-making reminded me it is never too late to begin the journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem.

Returning Monday to the Real World, my weekend Lenten revival succumbed quickly to too many tasks and too little time. There is now no doubt I must repeat Lent 101 next year. In these weeks I have been mostly flailing through the jungle rather than resolutely walking the road toward the Cross.

But from my brief times on that Road, it is clearly the “more excellent way” (1 Corinthians 12:31).

by Maggie Roth

Our Lenten journey is flying by quickly and I find myself somewhat surprised that we are merely two weeks away from Easter. My heart was slightly saddened to discover that we had only two Sundays left to observe the Sabbath, which is quite silly, really. We’ve got our whole lives to observe Sabbath, should we decide to do so.

Looking back, these past two weekends were the spiritual equivalent of opposite day. I’m summarizing them together because last week I skipped a blog post (apologies, my friends), but they really could not have been more different. Two Sundays ago we went to church, ate lunch at home and generally respected all our commitments. It was nice, it was relaxing, we felt prepared to start the week. This past weekend we celebrated our son’s baptism and our daughter’s birthday with our entire family in town. There was little rest and about as much activity as one can pack into a weekend. By the time everyone left on Monday morning we were all (extended family included) deeply in need of a Sabbath. A Monday morning Sabbath.

I found myself wondering what it would be like if our families also observed this practice. Right now, we feel like oddballs, trying to push out the world and huddle together. But if others were in on the game, would we have a sense of connectedness that extends beyond our family? I fully admit I’m big on community. I love a nice big community effort. In fact, one of the reasons I love presidential addresses/state of the union speeches so much is that I love the idea that everyone (okay, not everyone, but a TON of people) are all doing the same thing, we’re all sitting and listening to what our president has to say. Wouldn’t it be nice to know that everyone is at home, trying to embrace their families and find a bit of peace each Sunday?

I still am struggling to put into words how God is working through us. Because this is a well-organized group effort, there are lots of variables and individuals involved. It can be messy. I would like to be able to say that we’ve been taking time for family prayer, but we haven’t. We have taken commercialism out of our Sundays, but haven’t been so great about putting more God back in. I’m trying not to see this as a failure and, instead, acknowledge it as a weakness. I don’t know why, but we tend to pray at dinner and discuss what we’re grateful for that day, but that’s about it. We pray individually, but the group thing feels awkward. I know that we need to work on this together moving forward. It’s a major hole that needs patching.

They say it takes many weeks and even months of meditation before you begin to feel that stirring inside you. I guess I’m starting to realize that it may take the same type of dedication to feel the stirring within us. This is a journey not a small project. I hope we can be in for the long haul.