Sunday, March 12, 2017

Community Lent Project - Weeks 1 and 2


Welcome to the Lenten season, friends.

Much as we did during Advent, we're reflecting through writing during this season of Lent. Our first contribution, shared with us by Paul Shotsberger last week, coincided beautifully with our play-dough idol smashing activity (we each formed a small shape that symbolized something that had become an idol for us, then smashed our idols). Enjoy Paul's Lenten contribution.
In Matthew 21:44, referring to Himself, Jesus says something very strange: “He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed.” He is giving His hearers a choice, between being broken and being crushed. I think if I’d been in the crowd that day, I would have asked Jesus, “Is there another option?” Tommy Tenney paraphrased the verse this way: “Fall on the rock before the rock falls on you.” All of this may sound very negative, but there is a surprising amount of grace in it. We fall on the rock, Jesus, in order to die to self, and this is to our advantage. The Apostle Paul, who fell on the rock many times in his life, makes the key observation in Colossians 3:3, “For you have died, and your life is now hidden [or protected] with Christ in God.” If we are dead with regard to the world and our own desires – the lust of the flesh, the pride of life – then satan is robbed of the weapons he can use against us. At the same time, we understand from Scripture that God is close to us in our brokenness, and that we will receive the healing we need. Psalm 147:3 assures us that our Lord “…heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” And there is even joy that results from this kind of voluntary brokenness. As it says in 1 Peter 4:13, we participate in the sufferings of Christ so that we may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed. In this Lenten season, we need to actively fall on the rock through repentance and humility, in order to receive the protection and grace and healing we need so much.
During today's gathering, I read an essay by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton entitled "Living Lent" (which you can find at this link). Once again, the reading coincided quite beautifully with the tactile activity we engaged in during our time of corporate confession. We each held a marble in our hands and thought of our sins and failings, the things that hinder us. Then we tossed them into a deep tub of dark water, acting out the words of Micah 7:18-19, "Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea." Crafton's piece reflects on all the baggage that we carry through our lives, and how Lent allows us to be refreshed by our "homeless, jobless, possession-less Savior."


Come back next week for more of our Community Lent Project. If you're interested in sharing, email me at boyteremily@gmail.com

Monday, February 20, 2017

On Missing Epiphany

I'd planned to write a post for Epiphany, the day that celebrates the revelation of God incarnate as Christ. When I missed that, I figured I'd still make Epiphanytide. There was so much fun to be had: "Epiphany singing, chalking the door, having one's house blessed, consuming Three Kings Cake, winter swimming, [and] attending church services" were some of the fascinating activities Wikipedia suggests for celebrating Epiphany. Much to my chagrin, though, Epiphanytide ended on Candlemas, February 2nd (which commemorates Jesus' presentation at the temple).

Although I had a particularly hectic post-Christmas wind-down, and although at the best of times I'm still working at blogging more regularly, I feel like the same is true of most years. I enjoy Advent so much, and then once it's over I tumble right back into the swing of things without thinking twice. And now here we are only a week and a half from Ash Wednesday. 

In the spirit of not just allowing Epiphany to pass me by completely, I'd like to share one of the Epiphanytide prayers from the Book of Common Prayer, the prayer for the Eighth Sunday after the Epiphany: 

Most loving Father, who willest us to give thanks for all
things, to dread nothing but the loss of thee, and to cast all
our care on thee who carest for us: Preserve us from faithless
fears and worldly anxieties, and grant that no clouds of this
mortal life may hide from us the light of that love which is
immortal, and which thou hast manifested to us in thy Son
Jesus Christ our Lord; who liveth and reigneth with thee, in
the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.