Lent Journey 2011

Jesus, Continued

2011-04-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

When Luke sat down to write his sequel to the gospel story of Jesus, he began his second volume with a strange statement: "In my former book… I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach until the day he was taken up to heaven" (Acts 1:1-2). Began to do and teach? Well, after he ascended into heaven, didn't Jesus stop "doing" and "teaching"? Apparently not, according to Luke...

Jesus' death on the cross is not the end of the story. (As my pastor likes to say, death was not the final word; there was a word that came after: Life!) Jesus' resurrection is not the end of the story. Neither, even, is his ascension into heaven the end of the story. Those dramatic points in the story are wildly important, no doubt. But now, as we live Spirit-saturated life in the wake of Pentecost, the story continues. And it's not just my story, or your story. It's Jesus' story.

Read the gospels and you'll see what Jesus began to do and teach. Read Luke's second book, Acts, and you'll see what Jesus continued to do and teach, among and through his earliest followers.

What about today? When you crawl out of the bed in the morning and drag your groggy face to the mirror, what do you see? If you're like me, it's not a very heroic-looking sight. But the unbelievably good news is this: Jesus wants to continue doing and teaching -- and living his life -- in and through you. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day.

Lord, forgive me for my heavy, slow heart and my sadly low expectations. The story I'm in today is your story. What shall we do today?

* * * * * *

This has been the last post in Lent Journey 2011. There are new seasons to step into, and perhaps new blogs to write. If you've stuck with it and kept reading your way through, thank you so much for coming along so that we could journey a while together. (And if you stopped reading: where did you go, anyway <smile>?) In any case: God bless you and keep you as you continue journeying with the living, risen Christ.

Oh--you have heard the news, haven't you? He is risen!

Beyond the Bunnies!

2011-04-27T12:10:00.000-07:00

Visit a convenience store of your choice. Target, WalMart, CVS, whatever. Look for the Easter merchandise. You'll find that most of it is now deeply discounted. The chocolate bunnies and Cadbury creme eggs that were so hot, so seasonal a few short days ago? They're remaindered items today. The bottom line: Easter is over.

But is Easter really over? Well, yes--if you're living in HST (Hallmark Standard Time). But if you're living in gospel-shaped, Christian time, Easter has indeed come; but it hasn't gone. Resurrected life has only just begun...

So where are we in the story? It's helpful to focus our minds on a few milestones, high points in the plot of the Greatest Story Ever Told (the story that you and I live in right now):

After Jesus rose from the dead, he stuck around for a full 40 days and nights, proving to his disciples that he had risen, indeed, and speaking to them "about the kingdom of God" (Acts 1:3).

After those 40 days, Jesus gathered his inner circle, blessed them, and told them to wait for the gift of the Holy Spirit. He then amazed everyone by ascending into heaven before their very eyes (Acts 1:9).

Next, the disciples did what Jesus told them. They returned to Jerusalem, where they gathered and waited together. They prayed. (See Acts 1:14.)

After something like ten days, during the Feast of Pentecost, the disciples experienced exactly what Jesus had promised -- the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:1-4).

The early church burst into being. Full of energy, zeal, passion, overflowing with the love of the Holy Spirit, that first community of believers grew rapidly. They embarked on the mission Jesus had given them -- proclaiming the gospel to all the world, Jews and Gentiles alike (Acts 1:8).

Now, the folks at Hallmark would have you believe that it's time to pack up the trappings of Easter, to store them away in plastic boxes until next year. It's time to move on to other holidays, they'll tell you. But we know better than that. It only takes a glance at the Scriptures (and a quick look inside our very own hearts) to know the truth. The Easter story has only just begun.

* * * * * * *

Lord--open my eyes! I want to begin to see better and better what you're up to in the here-and-now. Show me how to keep in step with your dynamic, ever-active Spirit. How can I live out Jesus' resurrection life? How can I begin today?

Risen Indeed!

2011-04-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

I'll always be indebted to the Greek community that surrounded Elissa and me during the many years we lived in Astoria. I continue to be inspired by the customary greeting they give one another not only on Easter Sundays, but for a full forty days afterwards:

    Christos anesti!
    Alithos anesti!

    He is risen!
    He is risen, indeed!

Can I get an Amen?

Hope Against Hope

2011-04-23T20:13:00.000-07:00

Holy Saturday.

Jesus lies mangled, killed, lifeless in the tomb. The gospels go silent about the apostles, who must, on this terrible day, be stunned and drained and perplexed.

Two men, minor plays in the Jesus story, act with puzzling faithfulness. Joseph of Arimethea and Nicomedus, council members won over to Jesus, collect and bury Jesus' body in a tomb.

What are they thinking? What inner resources do these men call upon to stay faithful when every tangible shred of evidence is telling them that their Jesus-hopes are crushed and futile?

This side of the resurrection, with the benefit of holy hindsight, it's easy to side with Joseph and Nicodemus and to cheer them on. But on that miserable Saturday, when all visible hope was drained away: What were they thinking?

Lord, teach me this kind of faith. Teach me this kind of faithfulness. Teach me to continue to give myself to you even when everything seems surely crushed and lost. Let me trust in the sure strength of that which I can't see or even imagine. Let me know for sure that despite the death staring me in the face, life is on the way.

Resurrection. It's almost here.

Not What We Expected

2011-04-21T12:37:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, when I would struggle with my faith, I'd talk to God. "If I could only see you," I'd say, "then I'd know for sure." But what was it that I hoped to see? If God actually showed up, right before my very eyes--what would He look like?

The stupefying claim of the gospels is that God did, indeed, appear on our earthly doorstep. He took the form of a man. And much to everyone's surprise, God did not appear as a King or an Emperor or any sort of VIP at all. He "made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2:7).

And in case Jesus' disciples had somehow missed the point, in case they failed to recognize the absolutely humble and yielded self-giving of their Master, he was careful to burn the image into their minds. Knowing he was about to die, Jesus left the apostles with a sort of acted-out last-will-and-testament. He revealed the heart and character of God in a way that, yes, they could see with their very eyes. And it wasn't at all what they expected...

There in the warm intimacy of a family-style gathering, as they prepared to eat the Passover meal together, Jesus surprised the followers who thought they already knew him pretty well. Stripping off his outer clothes, Jesus wrapped a towel around his waist and, precisely like a slave, began to wash his friends' dirt-encrusted feet.

Peter, never shy, at first refused. He recoiled at seeing the Master humiliate himself that way. But when Jesus corrected him ("unless I wash you, you have no part with me" - John 13:9), Peter turned on a dime; he made a complete about-face. "Then wash all of me--hands and head as well!"

Jesus understood his disciples' confusion. “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand” (John 13:7). Until they witness his very real, complete and brutal death on the cross, the disciples will not totally understand the incomprehensible extent to which Jesus gives himself away. But even now--on the eve of his crucifixion--the Lord wants his followers to understand something. His self-giving is not only something he will soon do for them; it's something he wants to continue to do through them. They are to receive the life and power of Jesus and, just like their Lord, give themselves away for one another. "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you" (John 13:15).

As far as John the gospel-teller is concerned, this human low point is a divine high point in Jesus' revelation of himself, of his showing the character of God. Expecting to glimpse God, we anticipate fanfares and and regal status; what we get is humiliation and unashamed servanthood.

God, my own attempts at being humble are so pathetic. I may momentarily lower myself, but I still secretly regard myself as some sort of royalty, merely play-acting at humility. Help me, Lord, to see and accept the shocking humility of Jesus. Let me receive from him, and let me be freed and empowered to do what he does. Help me slip out of the chains of pride and run, fast and free, in the radically beautiful servanthood of Christ.

* * * * *

What about you? Do you identify with Peter's resistance to the idea that Christ lowers himself to serve you? Are you inspired (or maybe frightened) by the example that Jesus sets for us?

A Fork in the (Desert) Road

2011-04-19T16:40:00.000-07:00

You've been in the desert for weeks, now. You're thirsty, dusty, and spent. You've wrangled with some wild animals along the way. You've discovered some things about yourself you really didn't want to know in the first place.

Finally, there it is. Over the crest of one of the countless desert dunes, you see the city approaching. Jerusalem. At last: a place to get a square meal, a hot bath, and a good night's sleep.

But the horizon isn't quite what you remember, and not at all what you expect. There have apparently been some changes since you were last here. There on the outskirts of town, you recognize the slow and steady work of construction. Some ropes, some wood and scaffolding. You wonder--What in the world is going on? In an instant, your stomach sinks like a stone; you recognize what it is that the workers are erecting. A structure for torture and death.

It's a cross...

* * * * *

Well, there's no avoiding it. You've reached a figurative fork in the road. You can listen to Jesus and take the road that leads to the cross (Matthew 16:24)--or you can take another route.

As for the apostles, you might expect that they took the high road, the path leading to the cross. But they didn't. The gospels are brutally honest about the large detour of denial those first disciples took. When Jesus told them he must die in Jerusalem, they simply could not (or would not) hear him.

What about the other road, the one that leads to the cross? It was (and is) surely the road less travelled. Out of all these apparently devoted disciples, not one was able to say a simple "yes" to Jesus' journey to the cross. It took a woman--Mary, the sister of Lazarus--to understand the moment and respond with a soft and obedient heart. (See John 12:1-8.) Mary dug out what must have been her one great treasure, a costly bottle of perfume worth a year's wages, and poured it with unreserved love on Jesus' feet.

Judas, barreling down that other, cross-denying road, lost no time in criticizing Mary's itinerary. The money could have gone to the poor, he objects! But John the gospeler tells us that Lazarus was speaking out of his own greed; his habit was to abuse his position as treasurer and to siphon off money for himself.

Could we be given two clearer examples of people responding to this ultimate fork in the road? Mary chooses the way to the cross. It's dangerous, but it's the path down which Jesus himself is traveling. So Mary gives everything she has to the one who is about to give everything he has for her. Judas chooses the other avenue, the way of Self. He recognizes rightly that the road to the Cross is hard, a rugged path that can only be traveled by those willing to lay down their comfort and wealth. Judas, intent on having what he wants and having it now, refuses to embrace the painful beauty of what Jesus is about to do. He braces against the cross and makes his stand. He's out for himself.

When I read gospel stories like this, I find it so easy to look down my nose at the bad guys and to think of myself as being very much like the good guys. But if I'm honest, I'll admit the humiliating truth: I'm a lot like Judas. I'm really very interested in my own comfort, and not all that willing to embrace pain. I see the cross, and I'm tempted to turn 180 degrees and walk the other way.

Lord, give me a heart like Mary's! Let me celebrate the bright sadness of your journey to the cross. As I follow Jesus, let me be less concerned about what I can receive. Let me be wholly caught up in the beauty of your self-giving, and let me be stirred to grow in giving. Let me worship you with every ounce of treasure I have. And if it's off to the cross that you're headed? Let me take your strength and follow along.

* * * * *

How about you? How does the journey to the cross strike you, today, as you draw closer to the passion of Jesus?

True Confessions!

2011-04-15T08:32:00.000-07:00

I've got to confess something.

I mean that literally. Every time I try to draw closer to Jesus, to walk with him on the desert road, I find myself face to face with a great big roadblock: my own sinfulness. I feel like I'm strong and doing well and then, cruising blithely around a corner--bam! There it is. My own stubborn sin is staring me straight in the face again...

I've really got no excuse. (That's why we name it plain for what it is--"sin.") On the one hand, I'm not alone; I'm in good company, for sure. (The early Christians who ventured out into the desert, for real, in order to experience solitude and commune with God? They told stories of great and torturous spiritual battles. Read the accounts of Saint Anthony--he really had quite a struggle out there in the desert.) On the other hand, I'm totally responsible and have to own up to it. My sin is mine and mine alone.

What does all this have to do with prayer?

I can respond to sin--to temptation, and even to those times when I fall--in one of a few different ways. I can comfort myself too quickly, and tell myself I'm only human, and simply close my eyes to the high standard of God's holiness. Or I can beat myself up for how badly I've failed and tell myself I'm unworthy of God's attention. Or I can do what the Bible prescribes: I can turn around (repent), and throw myself on the loving arms of the God who wants to pick me up, clean me off, and set things right again. In other words, I can pray.

As for me, I don't usually use "fixed prayers"; I generally prefer to pray in my own words. But I've come to really appreciate the ancient, traditional prayers that have stood the test of time among God's people. Especially wonderful are some of the prayers from the Book of Common Prayer. They're simple, direct, and echo the Bible at every turn. Here's the BOCP prayer of confession, which always helps me when I need to tell God about my sin:

   Most merciful God,
   I confess that I have sinned against you
   in thought, word, and deed,
   by what I have done,
   and by what I have left undone.
   I have not loved you with my whole heart;
   I have not loved my neighbors as myself.
   I am truly sorry and I humbly repent.
   For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
   have mercy on me and forgive me;
   that I may delight in your will,
   and walk in your ways,
   to the glory of your Name. Amen.

What do you think? Do you resonate with this prayer? Is it helpful?

Falling in Love All Over Again

2011-04-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

I think we've got it all wrong.

We hear the word "prayer" and we feel intimidated. We feel guilty, inadequate, caught in the crosshairs. We've got the sneaking suspicion there's something more we should be doing or feeling. We think of prayer as lofty and holy--and always feel like we're somehow falling short.

But the call of Jesus--"Come away with me" (Mark 6:31)--is not an invitation to guilt; it's an invitation to delight. To enjoy his company. To spend time with the One who loves us. When Jesus invites us to "come away" with him, it's not so that he can give us a lecture or a stern talking-to. It's so that we might be refreshed and renewed, and be reminded of the thrill of loving HIm.

(And get this, Lent journeyers: When Jesus invites the disciples to come away and get some rest and something to eat, he invites them to a "quiet place"--literally, the desert!)

My wife, Elissa, and I are soul-mates. We're best friends. We got married not because someone ordered us to, but because we wanted to spend our lives together. But what with the daily grind, the busy-ness, and the day-to-day preoccupations of making it through, our relationship can get brittle and dry. Although we usually know very well that we love each other, we're not always feeling it.

It always amazes me how very simple a cure there is for the relationship doldrums. It's not an injection, an indoctrination, or an intervention. It's simply this: spending time. If Elissa and I simply get away and spend a little time together, we unfailingly rediscover the joy of easy conversation between us. And pretty soon we're not irritating or even tolerating each other. We find ourselves deeply enjoying one another's company.

I'm pretty sure that's what prayer is all about. It's not complicated. It's merely a matter of setting apart some time, opening up our hearts, and conversing with God. We get reconnected. We speak our hearts to him. We listen, and invite God to speak His heart to us. And pretty soon we realize that we're in love all over again.

Prayer may be one of the desert disciplines of Lent. But it's also one of the daily disciplines of discipleship. It's a breathing in and out that's necessary to the Christian life. So Lent provides us with an excellent excuse to do what we should have been doing all along -- making time to spend with Jesus.

For many of us, it works best to spend intentional time with God early in the day. Not only is it simply a wise strategy to do important-but-not-urgent things early, before the day's obligations pick up momentum… It's also wonderful to reconnect with Jesus as a way of preparing to meet the day.

How about making a date with God today? Why not write it down in your DayPlanner, or enter it into your SmartPhone, or jot it down on a piece of paper? Set aside some time, and make sure nothing else intrudes on some time with God. Read a little Scripture, express your heart to Him, and be still in His presence. Allow him to love you.

This Lent, why not ask God to give you a brand new understanding of what prayer is all about? And as He does, you may just find yourself falling in love with Him all over again.

"Secret Millionaire" - Cue the Tears!

2011-04-12T15:25:00.000-07:00

I'm crying and I don't care.

It's not like I don't know I'm being manipulated. The savvy production people at ABC have performed their TV magic precisely so that I'd weep on cue. But somehow, I really don't resent the tears spilling down my cheeks. Despite the TV people's opportunism and my own cynicism, I know there's something very deep and real underneath the showbiz machinery of the television show, "Secret Millionaire."

If there's anything that's double-your-money-back guaranteed about "Secret Millionaire," it's this: there will be tears. Not only mine and yours, but also those of the main players in the show. It happens every time. Like clockwork, faces get wet at least four or five times every episode.

The premise of the show is pretty simple. A successful business person--a millionaire-- ventures out, dressed up like an everyday Joe, into a not-so-good neighborhood. He or she lives on welfare wages and volunteers at a few worthy organizations working hard to help people in need. Each episode ends with the big reveal: the millionaire makes him- or herself known, and gives really big donations to the unsuspecting charities.

Even before you've seen a particular episode, you can plot out exactly where the tears will fall. And I think each batch of tears says something deep about what human beings were designed to be.

First of all, the Millionaire inevitably sheds some tears in the middle of volunteering. She is usually moved deeply to see how profound are the needs that others face. He is usually choked up to see the unglamorous,, day-in-day-out dedication shown by those reaching out to care for people who need help. In other words, the Millionaire is always touched by compassion -- experiencing it himself, and being overwhelmed at seeing it in others.

Second, the people at the Charities always weep a bit when they learn that their new friend has the means and the inclination to give a big contribution to their work. These people's hearts are set on helping others, and when they receive the encouragement and validation of someone else caring--not to mention the cash to do more good--they are rocked to the core.

Finally, as the Millionaire presents her generous gift to the outreach folks, everyone cries. Somehow walls and distinctions break down in the act of giving--and everyone, giver and getter alike, is moved at the core of who they are.

Sure, I'm cynical. I understand that TV is all about advertising and ratings and sales. I know that somewhere on the checklist for every show is probably a quota of sob scenes. But in spite of all of that, I'm moved every time. I come away all the more convinced that humans are made in the image of God, and that ours is a God who radically and beautifully gives himself away. And when we stumble onto doing what God does, something deep inside of us cries out and says, "Yes, you're getting it right!" And the tears begin to flow.

This Lent, may God teach me how to jump headlong into the river of his mercy. May he teach you and me what it is to give ourselves away, more and more, to those in need. Giving may be a discipline of the desert -- but God's promise is that the desert will burst into bloom when it's watered by God. And I wouldn't be surprised if God's watering can were filled with tears.

   I will make rivers flow on barren heights,
   and springs within the valleys.
   I will turn the desert into pools of water,
   and the parched ground into springs.

   (Isaiah 41:18)

Jesus in Disguise

2011-04-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

"Truly I tell you,
whatever you did
  for one of the least
   of these…
you did for me."
   (Matthew 25:40)

What was it that fueled Mother Teresa as she gave herself away to the poor with the intensity of an Olympic athlete? A good part of her momentum came from the conviction she expressed in the words, "Each one of them is Jesus in disguise"...

When my mother was in her eighties, her health started failing fast. But it was hard to get her the help she needed. Mom fell between the cracks: she wasn't sick enough to be in the hospital, but she also wasn't well enough to get by without a lot of care. One particular care facility we visited was staffed by Catholic nuns, and seemed especially clean, welcoming and good. I'll never forget what one of the sisters said to me (and how refreshingly wonderful it sounded): "I try to care for each of our patients as if she were Jesus, himself."

The special kind of giving we're called to during Lent--the desert discipline of almsgiving-- is rooted in mercy. That means it's personal. That's a wonderful thought, in itself. But here's something really special: When I open my eyes to the condition of someone in need, and when I respond with compassion and generosity? I'm not merely getting wonderfully personal with that individual; somehow I'm interacting with Jesus himself. I have the privilege of loving Jesus as I show love to those who need it.

O, Lord… Open my eyes and soften my heart! I'm so good at stepping to the other side of the street. Give me the courage to look need straight in the eyes. Give me your heart, with all of its mercy, generosity and love. Help me to love You by loving those in need. Help me to recognize them as Jesus in disguise. Amen!

This Time It’s Personal!

2011-04-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

In yesterday’s post I asked: How is the desert discipline of almsgiving different from the other sorts of giving that we Christians normally do? I suggested that the giving of Lent emphasizes mercy. If that’s true, there’s another piece that follows:

The almsgiving of lent is a kind of giving that’s especially personal…

We city-folk are pretty adept at being impersonal. We’ve got to be. The only way to survive a crowded elevator or a packed subway car is to put up walls of psychological insulation and create some personal space. I get into the zone and soon I’m barely noticing the people around me.

Trouble is, Jesus and his followers didn’t zone out. They zoned in.

There’s the gospel story of a beggar asking Peter and James for money. They didn’t have any—but they still didn’t ignore the guy. ““Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you,” said Peter; “in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” (Acts 3:6)

If a bad-smelling guy asked me for money and I didn’t have any, I think my first reaction would be relief. (“Good—I’ve got the perfect excuse not to talk to this unseemly fellow!”) But Peter and James have the opposite reaction. They have no cash to give the man, so they get even more up close and personal. They help him to be healed.

Now, usually you and I have at least a little cash on hand. And with prayer and discernment, it wouldn’t be bad to give some of it away to someone in need. Sure, there are no-muss/no-fuss giving methods that involve writing a check and sending it off in an envelope. Even cleaner and more modern would be using a credit card or even PayPal online. But there’s something to be said for looking someone in the eye, treating them like a person with dignity, and helping them out, one human being to another. I suspect that’s what the desert discipline of almsgiving calls us to.

What if you determined to be more mindful his week? What if you looked around? You might want to try slowing down your errands or your commute just long enough to notice some people in need that you hadn’t noticed before. You might consider asking Jesus to show you just one person on his heart, someone for whom he has compassion.

And sharing in the compassion of Christ, you might want to ask yourself, “How can I bless this person today?

How to Find Buried Treasure - and Give it Away!

2011-04-05T16:53:00.000-07:00

"Freely
you have
received,

freely give."

(Matthew 10:8b)

There's one thing that just about everybody knows: giving is good. And Christians especially, knowing that God has given us so much, are all about giving to others. Most of us start with the Old Testament standard of tithing (charitably giving away ten percent of what comes our way) and then seek, by God's spirit, to go even further. Giving is simply what Christians do.

So what is "almsgiving," this special desert discipline we're called to consider during our journey through Lent?...

(TO READ FURTHER, CLICK ON "READ MORE" BELOW)

The word "almsgiving" is old and out-of-date. It brings to mind Oliver Twist orphans in Charles Dickens' England, extending their thin arms and crying out, "Alms for the poor, alms for the poor!" That very word "alms" has an ancient pedigree; excavate deep enough and you reach the word's Greek root; it means "pity" or "mercy." Now we've found it--here's the buried treasure! it is precisely the melody of God's mercy that we're invited to march to as we journey the desert road with Jesus.

Very honestly, talk about yet another "opportunity to give" and it's easy for Christians to feel tapped out. Most of us not only give generously on a steady, ongoing basis; we give, on top of that, to special needs as they arise. So when we're invited to consider yet another, different sort of giving for Lent? We may be less than enthusiastic. Between you and me, we're already feeling a bit burned out in the giving department.

But I think the hidden glory within the "almsgiving" of lent lies in that hidden meaning buried deep inside the word: the idea of showing mercy. Maybe the lenten call is less to the action of giving than it is to a state of the heart. Almsgiving is about a readiness to see and care and respond. And yes--that often turns into giving. But it's not a matter of merely digging out some spare change or writing yet another check. It's the delight of finding ourselves drawn into the spirit of Jesus himself. He's the one, after all, who saw hungry crowds and--surely tired and hungry himself!--"had pity on them" (Mark 6:34 BBE).

God himself is rich in mercy (Ephesians 2.4). He has lavished that mercy on us through Christ (1 Peter 1:3). If we allow God to make us more like himself, we begin to think in new ways. And that new way of thinking is a "wisdom from above" that is "full of mercy" (James 3:17).

You may already be giving regularly and liberally toward the things that are on God's heart. If you are, praise God for his good work within you! (Philippians 2:13) But you are still invited to explore the desert discipline of "almsgiving." Ask God to help you let down your guard and to actually see and feel compassion for some of the needy people you encounter during the day. Be open to the Spirit of God and consider a little extra giving as an act of mercy.

The Big Turnoff

2011-04-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

   "Do not conform
   to the pattern of this world,
   but be transformed
   by the renewing
   of your mind.

   (Romans 12:2)

It's not easy to get a moment of quiet clarity. Want to hear the voice of God? There's so much buzzing and humming all around us (and inside of us) that it's often extraordinarily difficult to recognize that still, small voice that our souls are so hungry to hear...
   (TO READ FURTHER, CLICK ON "READ MORE" BELOW)
Between smartphones, iPods, iPads, Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, LinkedIn, TV, radio and all the rest--it's a miracle we have the time in our calendars and the space in our heads to hear much of anything at all.

When Jesus warned his disciples that "no one can serve two masters" (Matthew 6:24), he wasn't being super spiritual; he was talking common sense. Nearly two thousand years later, scientists affirm the basic principle: human beings are really bad at multitasking.

What does all this mean for the desert disciplines?

Well, what it means (brace yourself!) is this. As you and I explore fasting during the season of Lent, we might really want to consider a media fast. What would that look like? Well, for one brave member of our worship team at QCAC, it means fasting from Facebook. (Sound like a small thing? Just ask her about it.) Countless times a day she has to tell herself "no" and choose Jesus' company over the company of the crowd. For a time, she's being deliberately antisocial to her social network in order to enjoy the deep, strong, quiet company of Jesus.

And for me? If you mention "fasting" to Steve Jobs, he'll probably tell you "there's an app for that." But I'll have to say a polite "no" to Steve, because I'm largely fasting from apps for the rest of the lenten season.

Buying an iPad during Lent was probably not the smartest spiritual move I've ever made. A slab of shiny glass that can morph into endless colorful diversions? Even President Obama (a busy, disciplined man) has acknowledged how distracting the device can be. So… I narrowed down just the small handful of simple, utilitarian iPad apps I need to use, moved them all together into one place, and ordered myself: use these and only these apps during Lent! Don't you even think about playing with those other shiny, distracting applications!

I know, I know--media-fasting sounds extreme. Sometimes even just turning the TV off for a while can be an act of supreme willpower. But if the very idea of fasting from some variety of media is that unthinkable, that painful--doesn't it mean that you're onto something?

How about you? What might you consider pulling the plug on this Lent?

Open Question: What's YOUR take?

2011-03-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

OK. So far, I've been doing all the talking. What about you? What are your thoughts or experiences with the desert discipline of fasting? Any insights or puzzlements you'd be willing to share with the rest of us? We fellow desert travelers are all ears!

Starving Your Inner Child? (Week 2, Reflection 1)

2011-03-29T12:36:00.000-07:00

Like everyone, I have an inner child. And mine doesn't like to play by the rules. While I'm all nice and law-abiding on the outside, my inner child plays a headstrong game of hide-and-go-seek. He's looking for loopholes.

One of the Lenten loopholes he's found is this: fasting doesn't have to be literal. In other words there are plenty of things you can profitably fast from without disturbing your three square meals a day. That sort of non-food-related fasting is so valuable, in fact, we'll talk about it in the next post. But I still need to face down my inner child, who thinks he's pulled one over on God. "No need to actually go hungry, right?" he asks. "Not so fast, kid," I tell him. "Yes, we'll fast in creative ways this Lent. But we're also going to do some good old-fashioned fasting from food, as well!"

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If my inner child looks upset, it's for good reason. Fasting from food hurts. That's actually part of the whole point of it. Fasting is a way of de-toxing from my addiction to comfort. So fasting is, by definition, uncomfortable. It doesn't feel good at all.

Now. A couple of words of caution… Fasting is not dieting. While going on a diet may be a useful thing for me to do, I don't cut out sweets for Lent in order to drop a few pounds. The Lenten season is not preparation for swimsuit season. It's preparation for walking more closely with God. We fast so that we can pray.

One other word of warning… In our day, many people struggle with eating "issues." If the idea of fasting is attractive to you for the wrong reasons (that is, because you struggle with some sort of eating disorder)--don't fast from food! Rather, you might consider fasting from fasting (in a moderate and healthy way).

For many of us, though, Lent is a perfect time to experiment with literal fasting. It doesn't have to be complicated. Start small. Consider skipping one meal, either once or several times a week. Do drink water and stay hydrated. (If you'd like more information on fasting, you might want to check out the very thorough material available for free on Campus Crusade's website.)

The time and energy you'd normally devote to preparing and eating food? Use it to focus on God. The discomfort and pain? Use it to identify in a very small way with Jesus on his cross-bound journey, and to cause you to lean more fully on the Father. Jesus told his food-minded disciples: "I have food to eat that you know nothing about… My food…is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work" (John 4:32-34). Ask God to feed you spiritually, with his own company.

And be prepared: when you fast, your inner child is going to do a fair amount of complaining. Look her in the face and be gentle but strong. You're teaching her to follow Jesus, after all. When she grows up, your inner child will thank you.

Desert Disciplines: You can't have one without the other(s) (Week 2--Intro)

2011-03-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

What is fasting all about, and why in the world someone would even think of doing it? We'll start with that question this week, and move on, in the weeks to follow, to each of the other desert disciplines.

But the very first order of business is to grab hold of one essential truth: the three desert disciplines work together. By all means, dive headlong into each one. But don't forget about the others, or you'll end up spiritually off-balance...

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Mention "Lent" to almost anyone, and the first thing they'll think of is fasting. Even those who know very little about Christianity are familiar with the idea of "giving up something for Lent." And truly, for those who would journey with Jesus to the cross, fasting is powerfully important.

Jesus apparently took it for granted that his disciples would fast. He taught them the right approach to take not "if" but "when" they fasted (Matthew 6:16). He affirmed the outward practice while highlighting the priority of the heart.

As I fast, I open up space in my heart for God. And I'm reminded that what sits at the center of the universe is not me and my desires, but God and his kingdom. So fasting goes hand in hand with another desert discipline: praying. I open up space through fasting precisely so that I might invite God to fill it.

And walking more closely and prayerfully with God, I find myself drawn into his purpose and mission. The prophet Isaiah understood that fasting and prayer lead naturally to a deep concern for others:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry

and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—

when you see the naked, to clothe them,

and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

(Isaiah 58:6-7)

So for Isaiah (and Jesus), fasting was important -- but useless all by itself. While the spirituality to which God calls us is inward and humble, it's also outward and other-focused. Unless personal spirituality blossoms into love for others, it's really not worth much at all. Fasting is not an end in itself, but a beginning. It opens the door so that we might participate in God's giving of himself to others. We find ourselves drawn into the third desert discipline, almsgiving.

Without giving, fasting and prayer are ingrown. Without fasting, prayer can be self-indulgent and giving can remain anemic. And without prayer, the other disciplines become human accomplishments rather than grace-empowered acts of love.

This week, we'll get down to business and explore first steps in fasting. Today, you might begin by simply inviting God to help you strike a holy balance. Ask God to help you learn to fast, one way or another, in an authentic, humble, inward way. At the same time--ask God to help you, that your discipline of fasting not become an end in itself.

May our fasting connect us deeply to God in prayer, and lovingly to others as we learn to give ourselves away.

Desert Disciplines (Week 1, Devotion 3)

2011-03-24T08:46:00.003-07:00

   “So when you give to the needy…”
   “And when you pray…”
   “When you fast…” (Matthew 6:2, 5, 16)

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Jesus instructs his followers how to perform their “acts of righteousness.” He’s not so much telling them what to do as telling them how to do something they apparently are already doing. (The point he's making, by the way, is to do those spiritual disciplines quietly before God, rather than conspicuously before other people.)

Over the next several weeks, we’ll focus on each of the desert disciplines: prayer, alms-giving, and fasting. But for now—you might simply pray and ask God where to begin.

You might pick something to “fast” from--a comfort or pleasure you can lay aside to make more space for God. You certainly might begin making more spaces during the day—even brief ones—to pray and be aware of God’s company on the journey. And you might start looking for fresh opportunities to give to those in need.

Through it all, we're mindful of walking with Jesus, of following him to the awful and wonderful cross. We face the fear of pain and loss in the sure hope of life.

“Teach me your way, O LORD,

that I may walk in your truth;

unite my heart to fear your name”

(Psalm 86:11 ESV)

What to Leave Behind? (Week 1, Devotion 2)

2011-03-24T08:46:00.001-07:00

Search me, god, and know my heart;

Test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

(Psalm 139:23-24)

Let’s say you’ll lay down some comforts as you embark on the desert journey of Lent... (TO READ FURTHER, CLICK ON "READ MORE" BELOW)

Without those engaging distractions—what might you have to face? Boredom? Pain? Insecurity, loneliness, or something else?

Spend a few minutes quietly in God’s presence and ask God to meet you in the wide open space of the desert. Allow him to help you discover some of your anxieties and to lead you past them, onto the road where Jesus himself is walking.

I have decided to follow Jesus,

No turning back, no turning back…

Traveling Light (Week 1, Devotion 1)

2011-03-24T08:44:00.001-07:00

“The son of man has no place to lay his head.” (Luke 9:58)

"Sell your possessions and give to the poor,

and you will have treasure in heaven.

Then come, follow me." (Matthew 19:21)

Following Jesus takes commitment. Although I gain everything by following the One who is the Lord of the universe, I must be ready to lose some things as well. Traveling into the desert means packing light...

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Imagine that you’re leaving on a month-long hike into the desert. What will you have to consider leaving behind? What might you miss the most? Consider asking God if it would be good to lay these (or other) things down for the season of Lent. Perhaps each morning you can remind yourself of the journey by praying a desert prayer--the very prayer that David prayed in the wilderness (Psalm 63:1):

"You, God, are my God,

earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for you,

my whole being longs for you,

in a dry and parched land

where there is no water."

Into the Desert! (Week 1, Introduction)

2011-03-19T14:18:00.025-07:00

Why would anyone in their right mind venture out into the desert?

It’s true that deserts are starkly beautiful. But they are also forbidding. The sun swelters in the sky, the grit of sand scratches everything, wild animals prowl around and there’s nowhere to hide.

But Jesus made a habit of spending time in the desert...
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Before the launch of his ministry, Jesus spent forty difficult days in the desert, wrestling with the Devil (Matthew 4:1-11). When life became too busy and distracting, he made a habit of retreating to “lonely places” (literally, the desert or wilderness). He invited his disciples to follow his lead, and to occasionally leave everything and head for the wilderness (Mark 6:31).

Those first followers of Jesus knew that the desert was a hard place—but also that it was precisely where their forefathers met God. God’s calling and plan was that the people of Israel would break free of slavery in Egypt and worship him—where? “In the desert” (Exodus 7:16). And when Israel proved to be resistant to God (much like us), God shaped and formed them spiritually by keeping them in the desert for forty years.

Since the early years, Christians have enjoyed the Easter celebration of Christ’s rising from the dead. But they’ve recognized that before resurrection comes the cross (Matthew 16:24-25). Many believers have found it deeply meaningful to approach the celebration of Jesus’ passion, death, burial and resurrection by intentionally leaning into the season of Lent.

Lent is a wilderness journey. It’s a time to shake loose of day-to-day comforts and distractions, and to step into the bright, uncompromising light of the desert sun. It’s a time to follow the example of Jesus. It’s a time to experience what Israel experienced over and over again: the undeniable presence of God in the desert.

It’s a big risk to lay down the things that make us comfortable and cushion the hard realities of life. But the payoff is as breathtaking as it is unlikely: rivers gushing forth in the desert, the arid wilderness bursting into bloom.

Over the next few weeks of Lent, you might want to focus on certain spiritual practices that Christians throughout the ages have found useful as they celebrate the difficult but joyous journey of Lent. By taking up these desert disciplines—prayer, almsgiving, and fasting—we position ourselves to recognize the most wonderful surprise of Lent. We discover that Jesus is traveling right beside us.