Leaning Into Lent: Day 35—Is It Nothing?…Monday in Holy Week

It’s Monday in Holy Week. This is the day when when

Jesus returns to Jerusalem from Bethany, where he spent the night. In fulfillment of prophecy (for example, Malachi 3.1-5), he purifies the Temple. There is mounting tension between Jesus and those who are plotting his death. (Patrick Henry Reardon, The St James Daily Devotional Guide for the Christian Year, Vol 20, Number 2, Spring 2016)

This the day when Holy Lent’s trajectory starts a descent into darker territory.

Why would anyone volunteer to allow himself to take the spiritual slide into the darkness, injustice, suffering and betrayal of Holy Week? Who wants to lament if circumstances aren’t particularly lamentable, when life is pretty good? Jesus didn’t want to go there. He said as much during his awful night of fear in the garden of Gethsemane. "Take this cup from me!” he pleaded (Mt 26.39, Mk 14.36, Lk 22.42, Jn 12.27). If Jesus, the Son of God, didn’t want to go there, even once, why should I, every year in my Holy Lent?

Not that my Holy Week is any where near what Jesus had to endure. But here’s the thing. A Holy Lent observed, especially in Holy Week, exposes me to what Jesus went through. I’m not required to crank up my feelings and try and squeeze a tear out or throw dust in the air. That wouldn’t be real. But if I can just be present to the Scriptural account of the events and the Daily Prayer liturgies, if I read the words, pray the prayers, listen and lean in to it, open hearted, then I’ll be available should Jesus choose to light something up he wants me to notice. It’s happened in the past—usually when I’m not expecting it, sometimes embarrassingly and in public. It may not happen this year, or next year, or ever again. That’s up to him.

What bothers me is the possibility of falling in with those to which A Song of Lamentation, the opening canticle in Passiontide Morning Prayer, refers

1 Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? •
Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow,
2 Which was brought upon me, •
which the Lord inflicted
on the day of his fierce anger.

I don’t want it ever to be nothing to me.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 34—for Such a Time as This

My times are in your hand. (Ps 31.15) 

I prayed in Evening Prayer yesterday. There’s another important reminder that comes from taking the time to lean into Lent each year. Try as I might to organize my time for efficiency and productivity, my calendar is actually God’s. It was God who chose when I was to be born, knows how long my time on earth will be and what I’m for. Like Esther, I was born who I am and when, exactly and specifically, for “such a time as this” (Esther 4.14) and no other. My times are, indeed, in God’s hand, so taking some of that time to step aside and lean in to Lent is to

call upon the Most High God, the God who fulfils his purpose for me. (Ps 57.3)

When I do that God’s purpose for me is much more likely to happen. God has I plan for me, I don’t know what it is—that’s the point—otherwise I’d probably try and improve on it. I’d best just keep leaning in to Lent if I want to know what’s good for me.

There are also some things I do know about what I’m for. I was created to worship the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit. I was created to obey him and to follow Jesus. So, I go to church and participate in a worshipping community.

I also know my purpose is to pray for and serve others—especially others whose times are difficult.
Organized praying using daily prayer liturgies help me to keep placing my times in God’s hands.

For example, the Church of England offers an abbreviated form of Daily Prayer which “provides a framework for a daily Quiet Time and Bible Study” called Prayer During the Day which includes these prayer points during Passiontide:

¶ The suffering Church
¶ The oppressed peoples of the world
¶ All who are lonely
¶ All who are near to death
¶ All who are facing loss

If ever there were people who need to know their times are in God’s hands, it would be those living through such hard things. Perhaps my Lenten leaning prayers at just such-a-time-as-this will help them to know it.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 33—Monkey Mind

Passiontide Morning Prayer includes A Song of Lamentation (a canticle from Lamentations 1) which goes like this:

1 Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? •
Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow,
2 Which was brought upon me, •
which the Lord inflicted
on the day of his fierce anger.
3 For these things I weep;
my eyes flow with tears; •
for a comforter is far from me,
one to revive my courage.
4 Remember my affliction and my bitterness, •
the wormwood and the gall!
5But this I call to mind, •
and therefore I have hope.

Observing a Holy Lent is a disciplined calling to mind of Jesus, all that he has done and still wishes to do through me. The important thing is to let Jesus do the talking.

Yesterday, I referred to Jesus taking the disciples “aside” (from Mt 20.17—the Gospel reading in the St James Devotional Guide) to talk to them on the way to Jerusalem and the cross. I call Jesus to mind, Jesus takes me aside, as he did the disciples, and speaks to me through the spiritual disciplines.

The trouble is, I have hearing Jesus problems. My motives are in a tangle. Having called Jesus, my mind has a tendency to move on to other things. Mine is a “monkey mind” swinging hither and yon, hooting and in constant motion.

Or, I might even have the temerity to call Jesus aside to tell him what I think needs doing. Peter did that once. It didn’t turn out well (Mt 16.22-23).

Scripture, the Daily Prayer liturgies and fasting hunger pangs all call my attention back to what Jesus is saying, if he chooses to say anything. Most days there is a word, a phrase or a verse which lights up. Sometimes he seems silent. No matter. My job is to keep listening and watching. I’d hate to miss it when he does decide to speak.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 30—Blood of Christ, Inebriate Me

Jesus speaks of difficulty, impossibility, leaving family behind and the first coming last in the St James Devotional Guide Matthew 19 (vv23-30) reading this morning. Hard, sacrificial, impossible things. And yet, I prayed in Morning Prayer:

May we walk this day in the way of the cross
and always be ready to share its weight,
declaring your love for all the world.

That’s a Lenten leaning I hadn’t thought of. Being ready for some of the weight of the cross of Jesus to lean on me. Heavy. Difficult. Impossible without God. I thought I’d be doing all the leaning and Jesus would be doing all the supporting.

More blood this morning, too. In the shorter Prayer During the Day liturgy for Passiontide, this:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me,
body of Christ, save me,
blood of Christ, inebriate me,
water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me:
hide me within your wounds
and never let me be separated from you.
From the wicked enemy defend me,
in the hour of my death, call me
and bid me come to you,
so that with your saints I may praise you
for ever and ever.
Amen.                          Anima Christi (14th century)

Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Now there’s another difficult, seemly impossible thing. I can’t imagine getting tipsy on the blood of Jesus—for blood to be a joy—to be that blood thirsty. And yet…

Kathleen Norris, in her book, The Cloister Walk (New York: Riverhead Books, 1996) writes of Diane Glancy, a poet, who “loves Christianity because it is a ‘blood religion’” (p154). And in Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 1998) she quotes Rubén Martínez who

cheerfully describes himself as "not just a cultural Catholic, mind you, but a flesh-eating, blood-drinking practitioner of the faith" (p113-114).

I drink blood, too—well, sip it, actually. On Sunday mornings. Sometimes when I had to consume a little too much left over consecrated wine after the celebration of the Eucharist, I felt slightly inebriated. But that's not what the prayer is about. It's about another "impossible" thing—being glad hearted (Ps 104.15) enough to lose my inhibitions so that the weight of the cross leaning on me will declare to the world the love of Jesus.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 29—There Will Be Blood

The Church of England’s Daily Prayer in Lent has a set of prayers and canticles which resonate with the penitential feel of the season. At first they are fresh and new. After twenty eight days I was just getting to the stage where I felt as if I had squeezed about as much juice from them as I could. Just as I was resigning myself to having to hunker down into more serious Lenten discipline, and as Daylight Savings kicked in, so did Passiontide in the CofE’s calendar!

Things are fresh again. Just in time. Still have to hunker down, but not out of boredom. For the remaining days of Lent, the cross looms larger and there will be blood.

For example, the Morning Prayer Canticle, A Song of the Lord’s Gracious Deeds, from Isaiah 63, asks,

1 Who is this that comes from Edom, •
coming from Bozrah, his garments stained crimson?
2 Who is this in glorious apparel, •
marching in the greatness of his strength?
3 ‘It is I, who announce that right has won the day, •
it is I,’ says the Lord, ‘for I am mighty to save.’
4 Why are your robes all red, O Lord, •
and your garments like theirs who tread the winepress?
5 ‘I have trodden the winepress alone, •
and from the peoples no one was with me.’
6 I will recount the gracious deeds of the Lord, •
the praises of the Most High;
7 All that God has done for us in his mercy, •
by his many acts of love.

…mighty to save, blood stained and alone sounds like Jesus. But then I noticed that the Canticle skips a couple of verses of Isaiah’s biblical text between verses 5 and 6. Isaiah wrote:

            3 …I trod them in my anger
      and trampled them in my wrath;
                  their lifeblood spattered on my garments,
      and stained all my apparel.
            4 For the day of vengeance was in my heart,
      and my year of redemption had come.
            5 I looked, but there was no one to help;
      I was appalled, but there was no one to uphold;
                  so my own arm brought me salvation,
      and my wrath upheld me.
            6 I trampled down the peoples in my anger;
      I made them drunk in my wrath,
      and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth.” (Isaiah 63:3–6 ESV)

What’s that about? The blood on the robes didn’t come from Jesus. On the face of it, it looks like inappropriate proof-texting and editing in the Canticle, but as I’m reflecting on it, I realize that leaning into Lent is not like leaning into a nice soft pillow. Leaning into Lent forces me to face up to the hard, sharp, bloody reality of sin—my own and in the world around me.

Passiontide brings me face to face with the reality of God’s righteous wrath, expiation, propitiation and the hard, sharp, death-dealing, bloody, yet life-giving work that had to be done by Jesus to put things right.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 26—More or Less…

Leaning into Lent orders my leanings aright. Observing the Lenten spiritual disciplines helps me to trust in the LORD with more and more of my heart so I will lean less and less on my own understanding. There are benefits. As I acknowledge the LORD in more and more of my ways; for example, in my relationship with my wife, in making time available for spiritual disciplines and service, in my sexuality, in church-going, in my finances; the straighter he will make my paths. As I trust in and fear (in the healthy Biblical sense) the LORD in every aspect of my life, not relying on any wisdom which appears to come from what I see with my own in-a-mirror-dimly (1 Cor 13.12) eyes, while turning away from evil, it will be healing to my flesh and refreshment to my bones (Prov 3:5-8).

What, specifically, in Daily Prayer builds that trust in the LORD so I can lean less on my own understanding?  These, in Morning Prayer, for a start:

In the darkness of our sin,
your light breaks forth like the dawn
and your healing springs up for deliverance. (Opening Prayer of Thanksgiving)

Full of compassion and mercy and love
is God, the Most High, the Almighty.
Lord almighty and God of our ancestors, •
you who made heaven and earth in all their glory:
All things tremble with awe at your presence, •
before your great and mighty power.
Immeasurable and unsearchable is your promised mercy, •
for you are God, Most High.
You are full of compassion, long-suffering and very merciful, •
and you relent at human suffering.
O God, according to your great goodness, •
you have promised forgiveness for repentance
to those who have sinned against you. (From The Song of Manasseh)

And in Evening Prayer:

In the darkness of our sin you have shone in our hearts
to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God
in the face of Jesus Christ. (Opening Prayer of Thanksgiving)

He has mercy on those who fear him, •
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm •
and has scattered the proud in their conceit,
Casting down the mighty from their thrones •
and lifting up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things •
and sent the rich away empty. (The Magnificat—The Song of Mary)

These excerpts provide a potent list of saving acts that God has done, is doing and will do. The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is most worthy of our trust.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 24—Out of Hiding

I read this in A Song of Entreaty, from Psalm 143, in Evening Prayer yesterday:

3 My spirit faints within me; •
my heart within me is desolate.
4 I stretch out my hands to you; •
my soul gasps for you like a thirsty land.
5 O Lord, make haste to answer me; my spirit fails me; •
hide not your face from me
lest I be like those who go down to the Pit.

I don’t feel as if my spirit is fainting or failing, that my heart is desolate, or that I’m gasping at the moment. Thanks be to God. But these verses remind me that there are those who do feel that way so I can pray for them. Neither do I feel like God has hidden his face from me even though I don’t feel his presence most of the time and I’m hardly ever aware of what God is up to at any given moment. After all, as I also read, in one of the Psalms for the day:

The hidden purpose of the Lord is for those who fear him •
and he will show them his covenant. (Ps 25.13)

The fact is, God’s ways and thoughts are so far and away higher than mine (Isa 55.9), that to my tiny mind God is pretty well always hidden. The five dollar word for that is inscrutable.

Observing a Holy Lent, however, isn’t so much about God being hidden as it is about me being so. When Adam and Eve heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day after they had sampled the forbidden fruit, they hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees. So the Lord God had to call, “Where are you?” (Gen 3.8-9) and that has been his call ever since.

I sin and I hide in the weeds. Self examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, reading and meditating on the Word of God lifts my head above the weeds so I can say, “Here I am,” and we can walk and talk together again.

Then, if there is ever any hiding to be done. The Lord God can do it for me and keep me safe.

Keep me as the apple of your eye.
Hide me under the shadow of your wings. (From Ps 17 in Night Prayer)

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 23—Never Again

These are good lines to pray:

In the tender compassion of our God •
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
To shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, •
and to guide our feet into the way of peace.

They’re from The Benedictus in Morning Prayer. With my Lenten self examination comes the realization that the darkness in which I dwell is not as dark as that in which some others do—Iraqi and Syrian Christians, for example. Death’s shadow seems to be leaning over others more closely than over me.

Those lines remind me of others in a song my son wrote and recorded with a friend under the name Bluff: Never Again.

Hey, son
You’re falling down
It's ripping out
My heart again 

What's with this
Horror in the
Corridors of the place we're in 

Spirits broken
Religion spoken
Bodies they're piling high.  

One day comes
Dark horizons
Good men stand up go inside 

Dark souls come
sorrow laden
Deal the world her final blow

The song is the cry of two young fathers’ hearts concerned about the savage and deathly dark shadow religious extremism casts over the future and their young families.

How shall I respond from a Holy Lent observed? I don’t walk away and ignore it like the good men in the song who stand up and go inside—unless, of course, it is to pray I go there. And I pray without losing heart (Lk 18.1). The Anglican offices such as those offered by the Church of England are brilliant for that. So are the ones in our own Canadian Book of Common Prayer and Book of Alternative Services (the texts of which are both online here). I can lean on them in my devotions because I know nothing important will be missed. I also know, as the song goes, that one day,

When it's alright
I'll come out again
Right at the end

And all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well, no matter what.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 22—Leaning into the Curves

This is a painting in progress by one of my brothers, Devon, of a motorcycle racer leaning into a curve at high speed (see more, along with works by my other brother Don, my nephew Dean and my son Anthony at PackwoodART).

Those of you who have ridden a motorcycle, or a a bicycle for that matter, will know that there is some leaning required in order to negotiate bends or corners. In fact, if you’ve ever ridden a motorcycle or motor scooter with a nervous pillion passenger behind you who tries not to lean on corners, you know how destabilizing and even dangerous that can be. Effective cycle or scooter leaning comes from learning to “feel” for what’s going on as I move and the confidence to know I’m not going to fall over and bite the dust.

I have also learned that when I’m moving, I can safely lean further over than I can when I’m stationary. If I’m in motion, leaning actually helps me to negotiate curves and bends with ease, enjoyment and even exhilaration.

Leaning into Lent is the same. It gets me moving in my spiritual walk, helps me negotiate the twists and turns safely and without falling over and hurting myself or anyone else.

So, this morning I leaned into The Benedictus praying:

Guide our feet into the way of peace

In Evening Prayer’s opening hymn I ask the Lord to help me negotiate the treacherous hairpin corners of darkness and perplexity:

Lord Jesus, think on me,
nor let me go astray;
through darkness and perplexity
point thou the heavenly way.

And in the Collect I asked for divine help in leaning into “the way of the cross,” that I “may find it none other than the way of life and peace.”

It is a race I’m running (Heb 12.1) and so are you. But I’m not travelling anywhere near as fast as the racer in Devon’s painting. And, like the painting, I’m not finished yet. I don’t know that I’ll ever have to travel as fast or lean over quite as far as the racers do, but if I do, I know it will be exhilarating—only I’ll be as safe as houses.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 20—Odd Leanings

Jesus said

If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free. 

in the Evening Prayer reading from John 8 (31-32). That’s what continuing our reading and meditating on the Word of God Lenten spiritual discipline can do for me. Make me free.

As we come to know that truth, it will also make us "odd," wrote author, Flannery O’Connor. The non-believing people around us will see us as having an odd and irrational leaning into religion, superstition and outmoded moral standards.

Or, we might be tempted to lean too far the other way. Thirty years ago I read something Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon wrote in their book, Resident Aliens, which has stuck with me ever since: in their effort to be relevant to the surrounding culture many Christians have leaned so far over that they’ve fallen in.

The fact is, I need to be aware of which way I’m leaning, and why. Is my leaning bringing me closer to Jesus, or taking me further away? Am I fitting into the culture too well, or maintaining some salty oddness—enough to be tasty and different in an intriguing way.

The danger is, just as Ian Fletcher Thornley’s character yesterday “thought” he’d put away the things that could come back and blow him wide open, if I pay too little attention I, too, can “think” the things that could trip me up have been put away and dealt with. Better for me not to just “think” I’ve put things away. A Holy Lent’s spiritual disciplines manage my leanings and help me to be sure.

Today we’re half way home.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 19—Blown Wide Open

A week today, Lord willing, I’m going with Anthony, my son, and some friends to see Ian Fletcher Thornley (lately of the band Big Wreck) in concert in Calgary. I admire his guitar playing. Today I happened across one of his songs on YouTube. It’s called Blown Wide Open on his SECRETS album. I enjoyed it so I looked up the lyrics. Here’s a sample:

So I'm all surrounded

By the things I thought I put away…

And there's a pile in the closet

That's where I threw some yesterday

Maybe under the rug

That's where I swept some the other day

So the mess is drawing forces

Outside I hear them say

Just come out with your hands up

So we can blow you away

And I walk out the door

Get blown wide open

By the things I put away

And I wasn't even warned

Just blown wide open

Now the mess is where I lay

I was fascinated by how closely Thornley’s lyrics align with the sentiments in Morning Prayer’s Psalm 38 today. David describes a very similar state of affairs:  

3 There is no health in my flesh

because of your indignation; 

there is no peace in my bones because of my sin.

4 For my iniquities have gone over my head; 

their weight is a burden too heavy to bear. R

5 My wounds stink and fester 

because of my foolishness.

6 I am utterly bowed down and brought very low.

I go about mourning all the day long. 

7 My loins are filled with searing pain;

There is no health in my flesh. 

8 I am feeble and utterly crushed;

I roar aloud because of the disquiet of my heart.

I was also fascinated by how closely the character's dilemma in Thornley's song resembles my, and probably your, struggle with sin. If I allow them to, my sins pile up, not only in my closet and under the rug, but completely over my head! My foolishness and carelessness cause them to stink and fester. I am brought very low, there is searing pain, “the mess” draws forces and gathers dark energy with The Enemy’s help until one day, unless I take action, I’m called out, blown wide open and away.  Not a happy ending. 

The solution? Unlike the character in Thornley's song, I've been warned. So have you. The honest self examination of a Holy Lent which brings everything out of the closet and from under the rug into the light of day so they can be confessed, repented of and any evil or toxic forces “the mess” has drawn are rendered harmless. 

Leaning Into Lent: Day 18—On Being a Leaning Fence

A Leaning Fence, Port Chalmers, NZ

Life is complicated. We’re reading through the Genesis story of Joseph in Morning Prayer just now. After being sold into slavery by his brothers, unjustly imprisoned for four years after resisting Potiphar’s wife’s advances, and finally being reunited with his family (after getting up to a little mischief with his brothers), you’d think that the Lord would have let things settle right down so he could just relax. But no, when it came time for his father, Israel, to bless Joseph’s sons, Manassah and Ephraim, the old man crossed his hands (Gen 48.14) and leaned in an unexpected direction giving Ephraim, the younger son, what should have been Manasseh, the firstborn’s, blessing. It was Esau and Jacob déjà vu all over again. God seemed to be picking the “wrong” one.

The lenten lesson for me is—

1. expect God to do the unexpected
2. to take his own good, and usually very lengthy, time to do it and 
3. that I won’t necessarily like it. 

How shall I respond? Self examination, penitence, prayer… Self examination, penitence, prayer… Self exam…

Evening Prayer’s Psalm 62 arrives just in time:

3 How long will all of you assail me to destroy me,
as you would a tottering wall or a leaning fence? 

How long will doubts, and what-ifs, and guilt, and things I wish I’d done, or not, and things I’d hoped for which didn’t come to pass, and on and on, assail me and push me even further away and over in my leaning? If I allow my dissatisfaction with God’s will and timing to get the better of me, my “leaning fence” self may give way completely and fall. This morning’s reading from Hebrews includes a stern warning about how that can turn out (Heb 6.4-6).

Self examination, penitence, prayer… Self examination, penitence, prayer… Self exam…reading and meditating on the Word of God…Psalm 62 again:

1 On God alone my soul in stillness waits; •
from him comes my salvation.
…
5 Wait on God alone in stillness, O my soul; •
for in him is my hope.
6 He alone is my rock and my salvation, •
my stronghold, so that I shall not be shaken. R
7 In God is my strength and my glory; •
God is my strong rock; in him is my refuge.
8 Put your trust in him always, my people; •
pour out your hearts before him, for God is our refuge.

Just as well.

Gene+

Leaning Into Lent: Day 16—the Key of the Day and the Lock of the Night

It’s George Herbert, Priest and Poet, day and Lenten silent retreat day at StB. Our retreat meditations are based on a quote from one of Herbert’s poems: “Prayer should be the key of the day and the lock of the night.”

The Key of the Day

Each day the opening prayer in the contemporary version of the CofE’s Morning Prayer goes like this:

The night has passed,
and the day lies open before us;
let us pray with one heart and mind.
Silence is kept.
As we rejoice in the gift of this new day,
so may the light of your presence, O God,
set our hearts on fire with love for you;
now and for ever.

That’s a good “key of the day” prayer. It causes a day to lie open before us. George Herbert was right.

To begin a day prayerlessly leaves it closed. The day and its possibilities will be limited to my own puny consciousness, will and selfish appetites. Rejoicing will be stifled. The light of God’s presence is dimmed to a mere shadow; something crepuscular and inward looking. Hearts, which might have been on fire with love for Jesus, do not ignite. Love, which properly should be warmly directed to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus in the Power of the Holy Spirit is refracted and reflected by the shards of my own distorted and sinful house of mirrors. The day becomes a maze which I must try and negotiate in my own strength using my own limited through-a-glass-darkly vision. Alone. Same for you.

If I want my day to lie open before me and welcoming; a gift of God in which to rejoice; my heart on fire with love for God, as George Herbert said, prayer is the key.

The Lock of the Night

Why does the night need a lock? Years ago I remember reading about why the time around supper time is often fraught for mothers with children. It’s because it is the primordial time when night starts to loom and there is a visceral dis-ease because we’re all afraid of the dark and it’s coming closer. So the children get skittish and irritating, mothers and fathers get impatient and cranky. The bogey man draws near. Something wicked this way comes. So we want to lock the doors, close the gates, set the watch and keep the enemy out.

How do we protect our souls, safe and sound, from those dark nights?

Compline (derived from the Latin completorium, the completion of the working day), or Night Prayer, is a good, strong, devotional combination lock that addresses that primal fear and leans us in the right direction. “The Lord almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end,” are the very first words. And soon after,

Before the ending of the day,
Creator of the world, we pray
That you, with steadfast love, would keep
Your watch around us while we sleep. 

From evil dreams defend our sight,
From fears and terrors of the night;
Tread underfoot our deadly foe
That we no sinful thought may know.

We finish with prayers like this:

Visit this place, O Lord, we pray,
and drive far from it the snares of the enemy;
may your holy angels dwell with us and guard us in peace,
and may your blessing be always upon us;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

In peace we will lie down and sleep;
for you alone, Lord, make us dwell in safety.
Abide with us, Lord Jesus,
for the night is at hand and the day is now past.

There, locked up safe and sound.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 15—Smooth Soul Surfaces

Psalm 40 for Morning Prayer this morning.

I waited patiently for the Lord; •
he inclined to me and heard my cry. (v1)

I'm not the one who has to do all the leaning in Lent, or any other time. Neither are you. I lean into Jesus' embrace and the Father, himself, inclines (leans) to me, too. His angle of inclination is always just right. Unlike the world of physics, however, my human angle of reflection rarely equals God’s perfect angle of incidence. God’s light shines straight and true. The far from perfect reflective surfaces of my soul are not smooth, shiny and true. The divine image God’s light is designed to project through me is distorted by the broken shards of my sinful house of mirrors.

The spiritual disciplines of Lent are designed so that I am able to lean into the Lord at just the right angle for my soul’s surfaces to be gracefully ground smooth again. Smooth enough that I am able to reflect his glory and, with Simeon , be

A light to reveal you to the nations
And the glory of your people Israel. (Nunc Dimittis from Night Prayer and Lk 2.32)

Amen and amen.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 14—6.66 or Jesus' Embrace

We’ve been working through John 6 in Evening Prayer.

…and the number shall be 666! They turned back.

…they said, so they leaned away. They stopped leaning in to Jesus. Observing a Holy Lent is disciplined leaning in to Jesus, who he is and what he is doing through us.

I heard a good word about that last night at our Wednesday night ecumenical community Lent service. The Rev Jan Stevenson from Westminster United Church, Medicine Hat, was the preacher. Her remarks included this:

It’s not what you or I or our congregations can accomplish, but what the Holy One can do through us, if only we get out of God’s way.  Lean into Jesus’ embrace instead of arming up. Sing praises when times are tough. Keep faith in God, not our latest wonder no-lose church growth strategy. … Our strength is in our song. Not money. Not armies.  Not innovative stewardship and evangelism campaigns, but in our staunch faith in God’s purpose. 

Believing in God’s purposes, I lean into Jesus’ embrace instead of arming up, or taking things into my own hands. I do the leaning, Jesus does the embracing, the accomplishing, the defeating of enemies, the providing and the growth.

Yes, the teaching can be difficult. Eat my flesh, drink my blood, die to yourself, forgive seventy times seven times over, but there is still and always the strong, loving embrace of those everlasting arms into which I can lean with absolute confidence.

So can you.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 13—Bouncing Prayers and Holy Missiles

Day 13. Not that I'm superstitious. I'm more into super-natural than stitious—Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, raised from the dead, ascended into heaven—and all that. But when I’m doing my Holy Lent praying for the church, peace in the world, healing and mercy for people who need it and nothing supernatural or anything else that I can see seems to happen—in other words, when it seems as if, in the words of this morning’s Psalm: 

my prayer returned empty to my bosom (Ps 35.14)

…I wonder. Which reminds me of a line from a Ragamuffin Band song I have on a cassette somewhere called Bouncing Off the Ceiling: 

Sometimes I get the feeling 

My prayers bounce right off the ceiling  

And they spin around the room with me  

And they never get to you. (Mark Robertson)

Which brings me back to Lent leaning self examination. If my prayers seem to be bouncing off the the ceiling, spinning around the room and returning empty to my bosom, is there something in me off of which they are bouncing? I know any problems will be at my end. Have I suspended a ceiling of unconfessed sin, unbelief, unforgiveness, bitterness between God and me? I know that it is possible that God might be saying, “No” to my request, or “Wait.” I know that a disciplined observance of Lent requires that I keep on repenting, fasting, almsgiving, reading and meditating on God’s word, anyway. After all, the goal is not answers, but a closer relationship and communion with the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit. 

The song continues: 

And though my head is reeling I will still go on believing 

They'll fly like holy missiles and tear a hole right through the roof. 

…so I go on believing in and hoping for supernatural holy missiles and holes through the roof. So can you. 

Let us strive to know the Lord; • his appearing is as sure as the sunrise. He will come to us like the showers, • like the spring rains that water the earth. 

( A Song of Humility, Hosea 6.1-6, from CofE Morning Prayer)

Leaning Into Lent: Day 12—Wickedness, Kindness and Discipline

Psalm 50 in Morning Prayer today.

But to the wicked, says God:
“Why do you recite my statutes
and take my covenant upon your lips,
Since you refuse to be disciplined •
and have cast my words behind you?” (vv 16-17)

…the wicked?! Well, that counts me out and I skim right over because I can’t possibly be one of them. I believe in Jesus, go to church, tithe and am nice to people. That bit can’t possibly apply to me. Or can it?

Fast forward to the very first verse of the reading from Hebrews 2.

Therefore we must pay greater attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away from it.

Pay greater attention! That looks like Holy Lent reading, meditating and self examination to me. Is there, in fact, wickedness lurking in any of my dark and secret corners—or cleverly disguised in any of my bright and obvious ones? Is it me reciting the liturgy outwardly with holy tones and a holy look on my face while refusing to be disciplined by not admitting my sin?( Prays: Lord, if there is something for which you wish to discipline me, please bring it to mind and reveal it.)

It is so easy to just focus on and enjoy the love and mercy and kindness of God while drifting away from and glossing over the tougher, demanding stuff. There was one of Paul’s pointed reminders about the dangers of that kind of drifting in Morning Prayer on Sunday:

Note then the kindness and the severity of God. (Romans 11:22–23 NRSV)

…from Night Prayer

I can’t have one without the other. Leaning in to an Holy Lent is about being real with God, the people around me and with myself by enjoying and being thankful for the good while being honest about the bad so love, humility, obedience, thanksgiving, discipline, gentleness and peace will out.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 11—Elements of Light

Open our eyes to acknowledge your presence,
that freed from the misery of sin and shame
we may grow into your likeness from glory to glory.
Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Blessed be God for ever.

…is what I’m praying in the opening prayer of thanksgiving in Evening Prayer each day. Open my eyes so I can see more clearly and be set free from all that darkens and ensnares me.

Just as a camera lens is made up of several “elements,” which direct and process the light rays coming from a scene to create a sharp, accurately colour-rendered photographic image, so the six spiritual disciplines of a Holy Lent as listed The Book of Alternative Services, p282, are the six elements of a very high definition devotional lens. Through it the God who is light (1 John 1.5) will etch Jesus himself, the very image of the invisible God (Col 1.15), onto the image sensors of my heart, soul and mind.

Honest self examination and penitence identifies and cleans away any dirt on my Lenten lens which would otherwise render images out of focus and reduce the amount of light that can get to my image sensors. Prayer, fasting and almsgiving energizes my image sensors, readies them for input and opens the eyes of my heart so I can see the Lord more clearly. Reading and meditating on the Word of God shows me the best scenes upon which to focus, gives me sound instructions on how to operate my spiritual camera and compose the images for maximum accuracy and impact, where to turn my devotional lens and upon what to focus.

All this so, as I allow the holiness of Lent to permeate my being, I can become a clean, sharp, accurate lens myself. A lens through which God the Father can then project Jesus, the radiance and the light of the knowledge of his glory (Heb 1.3; 2 Cor 4.6). I can then truly join in Simeon’s prayer of wonder when he encountered the infant Jesus in the temple—the beautiful and profound Nunc Dimittis of Evening and/or Night Prayer:

Now, Lord, you let your servant go in peace:
your word has been fulfilled.
My own eyes have seen the salvation
which you have prepared in the sight of every people;
A light to reveal you to the nations
and the glory of your people Israel.

So can you. Amen.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 10—Working It, Acedia and Almsgiving

…a quarter of the way through this Lent. A quarter of the way to holiness? I don’t know. The Lord does. What I do know is that Lent is a good opportunity to, as Canticle 33, one of this morning’s Daily Prayer between-the-readings canticles, states,

Seek the Lord while he may be found, •
call upon him while he is near. (A Song of the Word of the Lord—Isaiah 55.6-11)

If I lean into my Lent seeking him in the liturgy and the Scripture, I will also find myself leaning safely on his mighty, outstretched and everlasting arms (Ps 136.12; 89.13; Dt 33.27). And I will be nearer to him than when I first began on Ash Wednesday. So will you.

Leaning into Lent, however, is often like leaning into a wind or a current. It requires effort. It can be tiring. This mornings New Testament reading speaks of the work involved:

So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith. (Galatians 6:9–10 NRSV)

Holy Lent self examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, reading and meditating on the Word of God are things that can weary our fleshly selves. The Desert Fathers called it acedia—spiritual sloth, or apathy. But Lenten disciplines will bear fruit if I do not give up.

Almsgiving, in particular, resonates for me when I read those verses. I work for the good of all both when I share the money God has given me the ability to earn and when I share the time and bodily strength and health I have been given in serving others—especially the poor. So do you.

Leaning Into Lent: Day 9—Fasting as Devotional Performance Art

In A Song of Entreaty, the Preparation canticle based on Psalm 143 for Evening Prayer today, the psalmist writes:

Teach me to do what pleases you, for you are my God; •
let your kindly spirit lead me on a level path.

I need God’s help to know what pleases him and will lead me on a level path. So, it must be possible to displease God and to allow myself to be led on uneven, shaky and unsteady paths.

Lenten disciplines open me to God’s teachings about what I can do to please him. They open me to the leading of his kindly Spirit and smooth the paths before me.

Fasting, especially, is a great smoother on the heavenly way. To deny myself things upon which I depend for sustenance and enjoyment is like an act of devotional performance art with the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ as the audience—a devotional work of art which says it’s You upon whom I depend and want to please. If I am to be going down any path, let it be You who does the valley lifting, the mountain lowering and the levelling.

When I fast, I usually think of giving up things that I enjoy eating and drinking first. But there are other ways of fasting:

Do not let only the mouth fast, but also the eye, and the ear, and the feet, and the hands. (John Chrysostom)

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?  Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?  Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard.  Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. (Isaiah 58.6-9a)

As usual, Jesus gives a most penetrating and evocative insight for followers:

Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal. (John 6:27 ESV)