Tag Archives: Lent

The Hen

What do you know about hens? I know very little except that I really like their beautiful and expensive eggs, which I eat very sparingly these days.

I also know from Luke 13:31-35 that hens gather. They are they original mother hens, buk-buk-buk-ba-gwacking and fussing over their babies.

Jesus offers the image of two animals in this passage: a fox and a hen. The fox is endless bad news for the hen, of course. The hen gathers because the fox prowls.

The fox, Jesus interprets for us, is Herod, the Roman governor on the prowl. As best he can, he gathers power and control.

Who, then is the hen? God Almighty.

Who is she gathering under her wings? You, beloved one.

God is the fussing hen, buk-buk-buk-ba-gwacking all the way to you.

And that is not all.

God is the fussing hen gathering all the beloved, all the broken, and all who live under the threat of Herod.

Herod is long gone, of course, yet the threat of those who love power and control remains. Where there is love of power and control, there is a threat for those whom Jesus describes as the least of these: those who live on the edges of safety, the neighbors who barely scrape by each day.

I imagine the hen gathering those who are still living in a warzone in Ukraine, the mothers whose husbands and sons will never come home. And those in Gaza, the brown-skinned ones whose homes, sacred spaces, schools, hospitals and coffee shops have been destroyed.

Still, the hen fusses.

Global Refuge is a non-profit with Lutheran roots. For Christmas, all of St. John’s offering went to the neighbors who are served by this organization. I learned from my colleague that when the federal government cut funding to organizations like this one, the federal government had the privilege of defaulting on their debt. Not only did Global Refuge lose future funding, it lost the funding the federal government had promised to pay.

And so, the hen’s work is never done.

Certainly, the fox has good intentions. I prefer a balanced budget and I dislike wasteful spending. Are there lines in the federal budget that should be cut? Has spending gotten out of control? Absolutely.

What does it say about the fox and its den when many of very first budget lines cut were the lines meant to become food for the hungry and shelter for the poor? It says that the hen will continue to fuss. Buk-buk-buk-ba-gwack.

Photo by Aditya Tma on Unsplash

Giving Up

“What are you giving up for Lent?” a Confirmation student asked me on Ash Wednesday.

“Well,” I admitted, “I haven’t narrowed it down yet. But it’s time! I will get back to you.”

It was true. I had journaled a short list of ideas the day before and then set the list aside and forgot about it: minimize the things I have, share the busy Martha-like tasks at home to avoid constantly cleaning the kitchen like a crazy person.

What am I giving up and why do such things throughout the six-week stretch of Lent?

We give up something in Lent to follow the faithful Christian practice of giving up. A life with Christ is a constant, every day, every moment invitation to give up. To give up the gossiping, the gluttony and the gall.

Lent is also a call to give up trying so hard. To give up on the lurking notion that if you only try harder, you can be better a follower of Jesus. To give up some of the doing to make space in your life for the being with Jesus.

The hope is that after six weeks of a Lenten practice, you might establish a year-long habit. Six weeks of giving up might flow into 46 more weeks of giving up. And then a lifetime of giving up. When you trip and fall, no worries. Lent comes around every year.

The baptismal cross that was covered in ashes on Wednesday proclaims the promise that God does not give up on you, which in the end, is the only giving up that really matters throughout Lent and throughout all time. (However, I am still hoping to give up a handful of kitchen chores!)

Photo by Kseniya Lapteva on Unsplash

Please Explain the Ashes

Last night I arrived home with a dirty forehead and an ashy-black left thumbnail. Serving the church can be messy business! My thumb reminded me of my dad’s hands when I was growing up – grease settled into the lines of his palms, framing his nails after decades of fixing vehicles.

Does smearing ashes on foreheads fix anything?

Ash Wednesday, in my experience, draws a crowd. Perhaps deep down we all know we are the broken ones who need fixing. We have fixed our attention here, there, and everywhere but on the simple mercy of Jesus Christ. We have broken our bodies and our spirits by trying to keep up with a fast-moving conveyor belt of fake promises.

Does smearing ashes on foreheads fix anything? Please explain the ashes.

To the little ones, I would say: “These ashes remind you that you belong with Jesus forever.”

To the teenagers, I would say: “These ashes assure you that nothing you do can undo Christ’s eternal love for you.”

To the young adults, I would say: “These ashes ground you in an unending relationship with God amid the uncertainty of life.”

To the middle aged, I would say, “These ashes speak of the fragility of life and your temporary place in it. Christ’s death takes away the ending of your life story.”

To those in the last third of life, I would say, “Your forehead has worn these ashes so many times. By now you have seen me trace this cross above the graves of so many people you love. It’s time for you to be the teacher by the way that you live: hold tightly to God’s eternal love and loosely to your earthly life.”

But to keep things simple, we say the same words to the baby with a brand-new forehead that we say to the elder with the crumpled-up forehead: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Does smearing ashes on foreheads fix anything?

Absolutely yes.

The ashes smeared on your forehead fix your broken self with the healing grace of God’s promise:

This life is only for now and not forever. Your life with Christ, however, is both for now and forever.

Unlike the fake promises that come at you in ads, in that nagging voice in your head, in the endless ways we compare ourselves with others, God’s promise to be faithful is Gospel truth. It is an unbreakable promise for the broken ones to fix our attention where it belongs. Remember you are dust. To dust you shall return.

Photo by Adrien Olichon on Unsplash

Follow Directions

Last week, Marcus taught Sam how to grill hamburgers. One step at a time, he guided Sam through the directions. It reminded me of the famous hamburger helper story in my family. I was the same age as Sam when one day I was asked to make dinner. It was the worst hamburger helper in the history of hamburger helper.

What could be hard about making hamburger helper, you wonder? Fair question. This dish involves only a few easy directions.

Nothing is hard about making hamburger helper, in fact.

What is hard is eating hamburger helper when the cook forgot one important direction: add water.

Directions matter.

The Palm Sunday reading for Sunday is from Mark 11:1-11. The story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem is told in each of the four gospels. Matthew’s gospel specifies both a colt and a donkey carrying Jesus. What? I don’t understand, either. Luke’s version leaves out the palms. John’s version is the shortest, barely mentioning the donkey’s colt. (Is that what Matthew meant? Who knows.)

And then there is Mark. Mark is the earliest of the gospels and typically the shortest. But this story is an exception. John’s gospel wins the most abbreviated storytelling award, while Mark slows everything down in Chapter 11.

In painstaking detail, the writer draws our attention to the directions. Jesus gives two of his disciples these (unusual to Mark) detailed instructions:

  1. Go to the village
  2. Find a colt that has never been ridden.
  3. Untie the colt.
  4. “Bring it.” This is hilarious to me. The other gospels finish the sentence, “Bring it to me.” But here in Mark’s gospel, Mark reverts to his hurried writing and doesn’t even finish Jesus’ sentence! I love it.
  5. Explain to anyone around that Jesus needs the colt and will bring it back.

The latter part of Step Five is the thread I’m pulling for the sermon on Sunday.

Aren’t these directions remarkable! For a gospel writer whose most worn-out word is “immediately,” these are thorough instructions.

Digging around in the Scriptures, you find a treasure trove of directions.

  • Eat, drink and be merry.
  • Welcome the stranger.
  • Remember the Sabbath.
  • Love the Lord your God.
  • Love your neighbor as yourself.

And on and on and on. But the directions for the two disciples – how to acquire the colt for Jesus: “bring it.”

Directions matter. The colt made the point that Jesus was a strange sort of royalty. He was a king born in a manger whose baby gifts were essentially burial anointments. This is no ordinary king, proven by the donkey colt who served as lowly transportation. Kings rode regal horses, not donkeys.

The two disciples nailed the directions. They could have been in charge of the hamburger helper and we would have all eaten better that night. Leading up to the procession, had they left out any one of the instructions, the story would be different. Had they not untied the colt, for example, or not explained themselves to bystanders. This may have been a different story.

What does it mean that Mark puts Chapter 11:1-11 into slow motion? What might God stir up in you if you take your time through these verses? (Those are your directions. Oh, and remember your baptism – add water.)

Are You Peculiar Enough?

In his book, “Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know,” Adam Grant encourages readers to “be peculiar.” This idea sticks with me. Peculiar is a way of being completely and entirely your own self. If indeed you are peculiar, you are unlike anyone you have ever met.

Raising an almost teenage daughter, I know peculiar is a hard sell. Peculiar stands out when there are so many more comfortable ways to try to fit in. (How many Stanley water cups exist in a middle or high school? You won’t believe it.)

Peculiar is a synonym for weird, but it is also a synonym for unique. Peculiar is a word insists the Creator has enough creativity to mold each individual person differently, even peculiarly.

Grant’s encouragement is on my mind as we make our way toward Palm Sunday and Holy Week. Jesus models peculiar in the way he parades into Jerusalem, in the way he cares for people who otherwise go unnoticed, in the way he serves his students, in the way God’s gentle love is pronounced in gruesome fashion. It is a peculiar story of peculiar mercy.

Squint your eyes a bit and you might see your own life differently. Are you following this peculiar God’s peculiar ways?

  • Are you living to fit in? Or are you willing to be peculiar with this unique life God created in you?
  • Are you buying what is trending? Or are you using money more peculiarly by buying only what you need?
  • Are you peculiarly aware that this life is a precious gift, that death is not the end, that money does not solve problems, that forgiveness changes people, that God loves a world even as messy as this one?

Please. Be peculiar in word and deed, in what you love and who you follow.

As Yourself

“Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.‘ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Mark 12:28b-31

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been in a wrestling match with Jesus’ two words: “as yourself.” How would this verse sound if these two words were dropped and Jesus’ instruction was simply to love your neighbor? What is Jesus up to by shaping your love for others based on how you love your own self?

So…how do you love your own self? What does it look like to love yourself?

  • Do you forgive yourself? Or do you replay that mistake you made so long ago?
  • Do you beat yourself up emotionally if you make a mistake? A mistake with your family or at work? Are you kinder to others than you are to yourself?
  • How do you look at your body? Do you recognize its beauty or do you regularly wish you could trade it in for a different model?

How do you love yourself?

If you dig around Jesus’ words here in Mark 12, you quickly discover he is not saying anything new. In fact, his words are among the most ancient of words. First, he quotes the Jewish Shema in Deuteronomy 6:4-5, the most important commandment of the Jewish faith: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” This is a helpful reminder that Jesus was not Christian, he was 100% Jewish. This Jewish command shaped his entire life.

Then, Jesus goes even further back to Leviticus 19:18b. Leviticus 19 is a how-to for loving your neighbor. Before and after this command are rules against slandering your neighbor, what to do if you impregnate your slave, instructions to love the elderly, and a command to love the immigrant. Tucked into a chapter outlining rituals and morality is God’s command, “…you shall love your neighbor as yourself…”

Now the question is not, why did Jesus add the two words ‘as yourself,’ but why did God add them? Why does God’s guide for loving your neighbor demand that you look not only outward but also inward?

Perhaps because loving your neighbor and loving yourself are inextricable. You cannot love your neighbor without also loving yourself. Let’s think of some examples.

  1. If you give yourself away again and again by doing service for your neighbor, but do not take care of your own body in the meantime, you will get resentful, worn down and even sick.
  2. If you care for the needs of your neighbor without ever recognizing your own social and emotional needs, your care for your neighbor may become shallow.
  3. If your main purpose in life becomes caring for the needs of others by ignoring your own needs, your co-dependency will drive others away, or debilitate the person you think you are helping.

In a nutshell, nothing good comes of loving your neighbor without loving yourself. Those two words, “as yourself”, cannot be removed from the equation of how to love your neighbor. How you love yourself matters for your neighbor!

  1. If you step back from the hustle of caring for everyone else, you might notice you have more genuine love for your neighbor if you rest.
  2. If you pay attention to your feelings, you may notice your helpfulness might be for show, and not out of sincere love for your neighbor.
  3. If you slow down, you might realize the people you are helping may not want so much help! How might not-helping actually be more helpful? This is tough news for moms, I know!

As yourself.

You, beloved one, matter enormously to the Creator. Take a breath and notice. Loving yourself is of great service to your neighbor.

Photo by Amy Shamblen on Unsplash

“Is It Still There?”

Pastors and Deacons everywhere now find ourselves on the other side of Ash Wednesday. Whew! Communities gathered, ashy crosses were marked and now the Lenten season unfolds…

But not before I share two highlights from worship last night. Wiped clean of its ashes, these anecdotes might bring a smile to your face. Both happened during the imposition of the ashes.

First, an older woman who is not new to Ash Wednesday. Drawing the cross on her forehead, I repeated words she has heard dozens of times over the years: “From dust you have come and to dust you shall return.” “I remember,” she replied. “I remember.”

And one more from a little boy. He has not received as many ashy crosses as the woman who will remember. When I traced the cross on his forehead, he turned around and looked at his mom hopefully, “Is it still there?” It was.

Today, it isn’t. If he didn’t wash off the cross with a washcloth, his pillowcase did the trick. The ashes are wiped away yet the cross remains. That’s the gift of Ash Wednesday. We simply trace over a cross drawn at baptism. The cross is still there, now and always. You are indelibly marked as God’s forever. May you remember. May you remember.

Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash

Your Life as a Roadmap

A roadmap shows you the road to follow to get you from here to there. On some trips, you can choose between a scenic highway or faster interstate. On other trips, there is but one possible route.

If you have no idea where you want to go, that is, if you know the here but not the there, a roadmap can still be helpful. I can’t remember who told me their family vacations begin without a destination in mind. The family gets into the car and from the backseat the kids decide, “Which way, right or left?” until they find a place to stop!

I prefer plan – a designated route from here to there. But again, as I remember throughout these weeks of Lent, I am not in charge. The Lenten story will end exactly where I wish it would not, year after year. The destination of Lent is a deadly cross before an empty grave. In the Christian faith, there is no other route on the map but the one from death to life.

The roadmap of your life otherwise resembles leaving the kids in charge. Right or left? Who knows what you might see or learn, which roads will be closed or which will surprise you with beauty. What will you notice about people and poverty and privilege? How will you be awakened to our work as Christians in a world God loves?

We can follow a map without knowing the way from here to there. It is a great relief not to be in charge of the world. We can be open to “right or left” as Christ guides us through the scenic route or faster interstate. The Holy Spirit is a great travel companion.

Photo by Tabea Schimpf on Unsplash

How Lent is Like Bowling Bumpers

The inventor of the bumpers knew that bowling can be a spirit-crushing “leisure” activity. Filling the gutters with friendly bumpers makes the sport more fun for new bowlers while building confidence instead of crushing their spirits. The bumpers serve as an impenetrable boundary.

Because of the Lenten devotional “Bitter and Sweet: A Journey into Easter” by Tsh Oxenreider, boundaries have been on my mind. Lent calls us to pay attention to our boundaries and make more room for a life filled with Christ.

  • What boundaries do you set around your own time to rest? Rest is not the same as distractedly scrolling or taking an intense vacation. Rest means to accomplish nothing.
  • What boundaries do you set around communication with co-workers? Can people contact you whenever a question or idea floats through their brain, or only at certain times of the day when you, too, are in work mode?
  • What boundaries do you set around your kids to keep yourself from getting in the way of hard things they can do without your help? Do you let their responsibilities be their responsibilities, or do you keep overstepping because it’s just easier to do it yourself?
  • What boundaries do you set around your daily schedule to prioritize what you know you need to do in a day? Do you allow other people’s plans for your time to take over?

Boundaries are complicated. There is emotion involved.

Earlier this week, I let a meeting go too long and was one of the last moms to pick up my daughter at school. It was cold outside. She was dressed for winter and fine, but I felt horrible. I had ignored a boundary in my schedule and oh the mom guilt!

Lent can be an intentional time to slow down and notice boundaries. Most of the time, the people in your life want you to be well and that works best when you honestly communicate the boundaries you need. Use these remaining weeks of Lent to practice.

What bumpers can you place in your life to keep you focused on Jesus? How can a renewed sense of boundaries in a particular area of your life build your confidence, like a new bowler relying on the bumpers?

Unlike the bowling alley’s bumpers, your bumpers are not impenetrable. You will make mistakes as you practice setting boundaries. Fortunately for me, 10-year olds are eventually forgiving! And the pins are reset and we begin again.

Photo by Karla Rivera on Unsplash

The Laborers’ Mistake

The parable of the laborers would have ended differently had the laborers kept their eyes on their own paychecks.

In Matthew 20:1-16, Jesus tells a tale of a vineyard landowner who hired laborers early one morning after agreeing to pay them the usual daily wage. Off to work they went.

Oddly, the landowner went on to hire more workers throughout the day. When he handed out paychecks at the end of the day, we learn he was less concerned about profit and more concerned about putting people to work. Understandably, the early risers expected a heftier paycheck than those who started at the end of the day.

That’s where the parable gets infuriating. The landowner paid all the workers, regardless of the number of hours they worked, the usual daily wage. Seeing everyone else’s daily wages, the early risers grumbled.

This parable is rich with conversation starters, but focus with me on only one: How does our understanding of what we already have change when we see what else we could have?

  • You have had your vehicle for a few years and it works just great. You are hoping to pay it off in the next year…until your neighbor buys a new car and suddenly you must replace your worn-out vehicle with a shinier one.
  • You decide to take a break from buying any new clothes for one whole month. And then you scroll through Instagram. And then the adorable new sweatshirt you ordered arrives on your doorstep!

The list could go on for me. The furniture is just fine, but then a Wayfair ad pops up. On Goodreads, I add more books to my want list instead of reading the books I already have.

The laborers agreed to the daily wage but grumbled when they saw what the landowner paid the others. And I get it. Not fair. Except…

What the early risers were paid was enough. It was the usual daily wage. It only became not enough when they took their eyes off their own paychecks.

Lent invites us to look at our own lives and see what we already have. Notice what is enough, recognize what is plenty. This is incredibly hard when you can have more with a “buy now” quick click. But what would happen if you chose not to buy it? Would you discover that what you have is already enough? What forgotten treasure might you find buried in a closet or dresser drawer?

When we look at our own lives and notice what we already have, the more we recognize the generosity of the landowner. Keeping our eyes on our own lives, the less we seem to want. Wanting less, the more we recognize what we already have, which is enough.

Photo by Matthias Mitterlehner on Unsplash