LENT: Reform or Resurrection?
- This post is courtesy of Jennifer Hooley (friend of Coram Deo)
I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve been increasingly convicted over the course of Lent. I never realized how often I opt out of the redemptive cycle of repentance and faith by seeking earthly comfort. When something from within or without troubles me, my first reaction isn’t to run to the all-satisfying Savior but the little functional saviors I’ve constructed.
Without my normal opiates to run to I have to actually deal with my sin. In one of his Lenten sermon’s Luther explained this wilderness experience, “means to be led into the desert and to be left alone. There I am in the true school, and I learn what I am, how weak my faith is, how great and rare true faith is, and how deeply unbelief is entrenched in the hearts of all men.”
As if dealing with my sin weren’t bad enough, I can’t bitch about it. If I’m going to go the way of sacrifice I’m prone to do one of two things: bitch or brag. I want my sacrifices to be either heard or seen by those around me. Most of the time I’m far less concerned that people see my good works and praise God as I am that they see my good works and praise me. But kingdom sacrifice doesn’t advertise itself (Matt 6:1-18).
Providentially, the week of Ash Wednesday my Hebrew homework sent me to Isaiah’s Servant Songs (Isaiah 52:13-53:12). My charade of sacrifice was quickly exposed. I want to complain for minor discomforts: “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). I want to be thought well of by others for my piety: "He was despised, and we held him in low esteem” (Isaiah 53:3). My sacrifices are paltry and my motives are impure: I’m not fooling anyone. I can’t numb my discomfort, I can’t vent to my friends, I can’t impress my peers. I am left alone with my sin and it’s a pretty bleak picture.
At this point in Lent I’m acutely aware of the decay within me, which is the imagery Isaiah uses. He speaks of our sin as festering infection, our lives as painful and ill, our condition as disfigured and decaying. The church calendar gives us 40 days to let this picture sink in, to let this reality weigh on us. Yet this isn’t the point, it’s the preparation.
Lent is feeling the dryness of the wilderness and the despair of the cross so that we can properly understand the joy of the empty tomb. If Lent comes to show us the depth of our sin, then Easter comes to show us the hope of our salvation. To use Isaiah’s terms, we’re not in the hospital in need of treatment, we’re in the morgue in need of resurrection. The Suffering Servant brings us an Easter hope.
As Lent wears on, I increasingly see the reality of my own deadness, and increasingly cherish the promise of birth from above. Lent is not about reforming my old life through my own efforts, but receiving new life through Christ’s sacrifice. It is not a season of meritorious penance but resurrection promise.
I once was far off; Jesus sojourn in the wilderness has brought me near. I was dead in my trespasses and sins; now I walk in newness of life
Hymn: Jesu, our Lenten fast of Thee
SCRIPTURE READING: Mark 12
I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve been increasingly convicted over the course of Lent. I never realized how often I opt out of the redemptive cycle of repentance and faith by seeking earthly comfort. When something from within or without troubles me, my first reaction isn’t to run to the all-satisfying Savior but the little functional saviors I’ve constructed.
Without my normal opiates to run to I have to actually deal with my sin. In one of his Lenten sermon’s Luther explained this wilderness experience, “means to be led into the desert and to be left alone. There I am in the true school, and I learn what I am, how weak my faith is, how great and rare true faith is, and how deeply unbelief is entrenched in the hearts of all men.”
As if dealing with my sin weren’t bad enough, I can’t bitch about it. If I’m going to go the way of sacrifice I’m prone to do one of two things: bitch or brag. I want my sacrifices to be either heard or seen by those around me. Most of the time I’m far less concerned that people see my good works and praise God as I am that they see my good works and praise me. But kingdom sacrifice doesn’t advertise itself (Matt 6:1-18).
Providentially, the week of Ash Wednesday my Hebrew homework sent me to Isaiah’s Servant Songs (Isaiah 52:13-53:12). My charade of sacrifice was quickly exposed. I want to complain for minor discomforts: “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). I want to be thought well of by others for my piety: "He was despised, and we held him in low esteem” (Isaiah 53:3). My sacrifices are paltry and my motives are impure: I’m not fooling anyone. I can’t numb my discomfort, I can’t vent to my friends, I can’t impress my peers. I am left alone with my sin and it’s a pretty bleak picture.
At this point in Lent I’m acutely aware of the decay within me, which is the imagery Isaiah uses. He speaks of our sin as festering infection, our lives as painful and ill, our condition as disfigured and decaying. The church calendar gives us 40 days to let this picture sink in, to let this reality weigh on us. Yet this isn’t the point, it’s the preparation.
Lent is feeling the dryness of the wilderness and the despair of the cross so that we can properly understand the joy of the empty tomb. If Lent comes to show us the depth of our sin, then Easter comes to show us the hope of our salvation. To use Isaiah’s terms, we’re not in the hospital in need of treatment, we’re in the morgue in need of resurrection. The Suffering Servant brings us an Easter hope.
As Lent wears on, I increasingly see the reality of my own deadness, and increasingly cherish the promise of birth from above. Lent is not about reforming my old life through my own efforts, but receiving new life through Christ’s sacrifice. It is not a season of meritorious penance but resurrection promise.
I once was far off; Jesus sojourn in the wilderness has brought me near. I was dead in my trespasses and sins; now I walk in newness of life
Hymn: Jesu, our Lenten fast of Thee
We duteous learn to keep,
A healing time, by Thy decree,
For all Thy wounded sheep.
A time in which towards paradise,
Once lost by carnal sense,
The souls redeemed by Thee may rise
Through chastening abstinence.
Now with Thy Church be present, Lord,
In all Thy saving grace,
And hear us as with one accord
Mourning, we seek Thy face.
To Thee our sacrifice we bring
Of Lenten fast and prayer,
Till, cleansed by Thee, our God and King,
Thy Paschal joy we share.
SCRIPTURE READING: Mark 12
posted by Will | 12:16 AM
2 Comments:
Walker... go to bed already. Stop posting blogs at 12:16 AM.
Hooley... thanks for sharing this with the rest of us. Your insights pointed me to Jesus this morning. (And, as a side note, such lucid writing must certainly have been catalyzed by a fresh cup of Peets.)
Jennifer... Thanks for putting down in words what I think many of us are feeling at this point.
Lent has been encouragingly frustrating for me. It was a simple task from the outset. Eliminate distractions (TV.), spend more time in reflection. My frustration is that I cannot get myself to reflect nearly as much as I should. My heart and my mind fight it. I am currently on spring break right now and I have practically nothing but time to reflect on the cross, reflect in the word of God, and spend time in prayer. What do I do? I choose almost anything but that. I turn away from discipline and fill my schedule with various tasks, such as: exercise, sleep, internet, rather than developing my relationship with Jesus Christ. I have so many different examples of how I choose other things rather than opening the word of God or turning to God in prayer. Frustrating!!!!
I love Jennifer's note regarding Isaiah, "To use Isaiah’s terms, we’re not in the hospital in need of treatment, we’re in the morgue in need of resurrection." I cannot wait until Sunday to Worship Jesus Christ. I feel a sense of yearning to celebrate the resurrection. I am not in need of treatment (that would only be temporary); I am in need of resurrection. I am ready to take the focus off of me and direct it towards Jesus Christ. Encouraging!!!
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