As I write this we are entering the final week of Lent, and the promise of new life seems to be all around me.

The pair of mourning doves that in some summers nest in the tree outside my office window have reappeared. At least I assume it is the same pair—they act, to my eyes, like they’ve been here before. They poked through the rain gutter on the roof of the porch, pausing to look around cautiously, all the while making the gentle, low, drawn-out sound that seems like a gentle lament (which you can hear here). I think of them as “my mourning doves,” but nothing, of course, could be further from the truth.

Then this afternoon I walked into our back yard and a tiny bird, the size of a chickadee was hopping in the grass. It was a species I have never seen before in all the years we have lived here, a lovely pale green tinge to its feathers, and remarkably a dot of bright red on the crown of its head. It was not easily frightened, and when I quietly approached to look closer it continued on pecking at the ground, staying just out of reach. We had to look it up: a ruby crowned kinglet, apparently on its way to its summer breeding grounds further north. It has a lovely song (which you can hear here).

Hopeful, lovely signs of goodness—but why should I be able to enjoy them when so many in Japan are simply missing, and when so many others have lost everything in the wake of the tsunami?

The puzzle deepens—as Lent is deigned to foster—when I pause to look within. Each morning I awaken newly convinced I am the center of the universe. “Our fallen human nature is incurably self-centered,” John Stott says, “and pride is the elemental human sin, whether the form it takes is self-importance, self-confidence, self-assertion or self-righteousness.” I tried to honestly assess which form it takes in my case, but was stymied—apparently all of them apply equally.

Even my faith is drawn into the vile mess, I’ve discovered. “If we human beings were left to our own self-absorption,” Stott continues, “even our religion would be pressed into the service of ourselves. Instead of being the vehicle for the selfless adoration of God, our piety would become the base on which we would presume to approach God and to attempt to establish a claim on him. The ethnic religions all seem to degenerate thus, and so does Christianity.” If you doubt the truth of that, get to know me better.

Last night I gave a lecture in St Paul, and as I was talking I found myself inwardly wrestling. On the one hand I really did want to commend the faith creatively. I really did want to be faithful so that God would be glorified, so that his truth was honored and his reality demonstrated. On the other hand I found myself yearning to look good, wanting to appear thoughtful and cultured, well read and eloquent, creative, imaginative, a spokesman for the gospel that stands out from the braying masses… and that’s only part of the list.

Repentance would be more satisfying if it didn’t need to be repeated so often.

Someday we will repent for the last time. That will be a fine day to break to break our fast, and feast like there was no tomorrow. Which there will be, world without end.

Holy Father.

Help us to show kindness and unrivaled hospitality as the natural extension of our commitment to you. Use us to bring hope and comfort to the abandoned and forsaken corners of your creation.

Amen.

Source: The Message of Romans by John Stott (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1994), p. 29. Prayer from Common Prayer: A liturgy for ordinary radicals by Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, & Enuma Okoro (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan; 2010) p. 413.

Sundays are feast days during Lent. How could it be otherwise on the day that marks the resurrection, when death was officially beat back so that new life could flourish, world without end? It is a grace to have hints of grace sprinkled through a period that daily reminds us that we are badly in need of the grace of new life.

On Sunday last I was browsing through a shelf of books and happened upon a volume of poetry by T. S. Eliot. His work has always intrigued me, exposing as it does both the dark abyss that a self-satisfied modernity never could adequately address and the glimpses of hope that spring up in a grace that modernity tended to reject.

You tossed a blanket from the bed,

You lay upon your back, and waited;

You dozed, and watched the night revealing

The thousand sordid images

Of which your soul was constituted;

They flickered against the ceiling.

And when all the world came back

And the light crept up between the shutters

And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,

You had such a vision of the street

As the street hardly understands;

Sitting along the bed’s edge, where

You curled the papers from your hair,

Or clasped the yellow soles of feet

In the palms of both soiled hands.

     [From “Preludes”]

This past weekend I saw a lightness of spirit in a daughter who has known what it means to have the dreams and vows of a lifetime shattered by unrepentant betrayal. We have helped her move twice within the past year, the first move a forced one, needing shelter that could no longer be found at home, deep under a cloud of mourning. The stuff to be boxed and carried and carried again and unpacked no heavier than this time, but it felt so. Looking back, the task completed ended in relief, which we mistook for happiness. This move was chosen, the new place alive with sun pouring in (the only room without a window has a skylight), with space enough for guests and hospitality (with energy to spare). We were able to help clean the new place, and unpack all but her own bedroom, so she could begin a new week feeling as though she truly belonged. But the best part, by far, is the lightness of spirit, gentle signs of healing long yearned for and prayed for that are not fully complete but are real, and hold out hope for more.

The dripping blood our only drink,

The bloody flesh our only food:

In spite of which we like to think

That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—

Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

     [From “East Coker” in Four Quartets]

It was a lovely feast day in the midst of darkness, a hint of grace in the midst of brokenness that is enough to remind me to be a person of hope not one of either cynicism or despair.

I decided to fast this year, to give up something I appreciate as a good gift of God in his creation. What I’ve given up isn’t important, except to say that I chose something that I enjoy and look forward to in the normal routine of life. Giving it up has proven to be an effective reminder that something is different, that somehow this time isn’t fully normal, that in choosing to fast I am choosing to be open to God’s Spirit, whatever that might entail.

It is far easier to fast than it is to face myself. “Our fallen human nature is incurably self-centered, and pride is the elemental human sin,” John Stott says in The Message of Romans (1994), “whether the form it takes is self-importance, self-confidence, self-assertion or self-righteousness.” My question is what it means when it takes all these forms, simultaneously. Being made to see patterns of impatience, ways of speaking that are unkind (even if unintentional), a tendency to want things my way, a desire to control—my self-centeredness seems to know no bounds.

Over the days of my fast, in the background of this Lenten season images and news pour in from Japan and the Arab world, of tsunamis and revolution. I have felt the weight of these events in an almost visceral way, having to be careful to limit my exposure to the media so as not to feel overwhelmed. Only God is capable of knowing the full horror of our fallenness without falling prey to despair or cynicism. This time it seem less like a distraction (the way I usually experience the news media) than a rude splash of knowledge, unwanted yet important, that brings greater clarity.

I have given up very little, a tiny enjoyment I can not claim as my right, while others have had everything swept away, and still others are risking all in the hope that something better can be built. And while all this unfolds I am shown the petty insistence of my own pride that demands central stage in little ways designed to subtly sideline everyone else. I do not mean to be that way, but that is a small comfort. I live that way.

May God have mercy.

A note from Denis: When Margie and I are in the vicinity of Rye, NY we often worship at Trinity Presbyterian where Craig Higgins serves as Senior Pastor. We are privileged to count him as a friend and pleased he gave permission for me to post this piece.

On Keeping a Holy Lent

by Craig R. Higgins

People from different religious backgrounds have very different reactions to the season of Lent.  Some grow up in churches where Lent is observed, but with little to no real explanation.  Whether observed as a time of strict austerity or merely as a time of forgoing a few simple pleasures, Lent may seem like an empty, meaningless ritual in such cases.

On the other hand, some grow up in church traditions where Lent is not observed at all.  These folks may think of Lenten observance as, at best, a hollow custom, or at worst, quite foreign to authentic Christianity.  As a matter of fact, many who grew up in church have the same question as those who didn’t: “What is Lent, anyway?”

The Meaning of Lent

Lent’s origin is hidden in the early centuries of church history, but we do know that it originated as a time of preparation for Easter.  From the church’s earliest days, the resurrection of Christ was celebrated not only each week (on Sunday, the Lord’s Day), but also in a special festival of the resurrection.  This festival we call Easter Day, and it is celebrated as the Sunday of Sundays!

Lent, as a season of preparation, is traditionally focused on repentance.  Speaking biblically, to repent means to make a change in our attitudes, words, and lifestyles.  As 16^th century reformer Martin Luther taught, the Christian life in its totality is a life of repentance.  Beginning when we first commit our lives to Christ, and continuing throughout our lives, we are more and more turning away from sin and self-centeredness and more and more turning to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Even though a repentant spirit should mark all we do, it is still appropriate that certain times be set aside for a particular focus on repentance. ^a The church has traditionally done this at the Lenten season (and, to a lesser extent, in the pre-Christmas season of Advent).

Lent, therefore, is a time for focusing on the heart, a time for asking questions about our spiritual health:

** What are my characteristic sins, and how can I work and pray for change?

** What idols have captured my imagination so that my love for the living God has grown cold?

** In what ways is my devotion to Christ and his church less than wholehearted?

** The Lenten season is the spiritual equivalent of an annual physical exam; it’s a time to take stock of our lives, our hearts.

Keeping Lent, however, is potentially dangerous, precisely because of this focus on the heart.  After all, it is much easier to read a book on prayer than to spend time leisurely speaking with our heavenly Father.  It is much easier to fast from certain foods than it is to turn from idols of the heart.  It is much easier to write a check than to spend time in ministries of mercy.  Consequently, Lent is easily trivialized.  The point of Lent is not to give up chocolate, it’s to give up sin!

Even with this warning, however, we need to beware of going from one extreme to the other.  Yes, it is possible so completely to externalize your Lenten observance that you end up trivializing it.  Yet we need to remember that we are not purely spiritual beings.  God created humans as physical beings; we are psychosomatic creatures, a “nexus of body and soul.” ^b  What we do physically has an effect on us spiritually—and we neglect this principle to our peril.

For example, it is unquestionably true that my attitude in prayer is more important than my posture in prayer.  However, sometimes being in a physical posture of humility—kneeling in prayer—helps me get in the right frame of mind.  It shouldn’t surprise us in the least that there is a connection between the physical and spiritual; it simply reflects how God created us.  That’s why, at the center of Christian worship, God gave us the sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist—simple rites involving water, bread, and wine, but rites that communicate to us the most profound of spiritual realities.  That’s also why, in the pages of Holy Scripture and throughout the history of the church, we find many physical acts and postures ^c designed to help us worship, to help us pray, to help us in our spiritual growth.

Recognizing this God-created link between the physical and the spiritual, the Lenten season has historically included a physical element, specifically fasting and other acts of self-denial.  We’ll deal with these more fully below.

Should We Observe Lent?

I am sometimes asked why churches should observe Lent at all.  Well, I certainly agree that of all the seasons of the church year Lent is the most-often trivialized.  Consequently, many churches (including some Presbyterian churches) do not observe the season.  There are, however, two good reasons for keeping this tradition:

First, this is a wise tradition.  Realizing the repentance should characterize the totality of the Christian life, we should see the practical wisdom in setting aside time especially for this purpose.  Just as a baseball player may work at staying in shape year round bust sill give special attention to conditioning before the start of spring training, so we may find great spiritual benefits in setting aside a few weeks to give special attention to the state of our souls.

Second, it is right that we honor the traditional wisdom of the church, and Lent is a tradition that the church has observed for centuries.  Inasmuch as the Holy Spirit has been present throughout church history, guiding God’s people into an ever-increasing awareness of biblical truth, we believe that it is foolhardy to disregard history and constantly try to “reinvent the wheel.”  We dishonor our spiritual ancestors when we casually disregard their wisdom.

Are Christians required to observe Lent?  Strictly speaking, no; Presbyterians have long emphasized that our consciences are bound to Scripture alone, and there is no biblical mandate to celebrate Lent.  But countless generations of Christians have found this a helpful tool. 

The Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday and lasts until Holy Saturday, the Saturday before Easter Day.  The last week of Lent is called Holy Week, which includes both Maundy Thursday (commemorating the institution of the Eucharist) and Good Friday (commemorating the crucifixion of our Lord).

Reminiscent of Jesus’ fasting for forty days in the wilderness, the Lenten season, not counting Sundays, lasts forty days.  Sundays are not included because the Lord’s Day, according to church tradition, is never a fast day but always a feast day—a celebration of the resurrection! Therefore, during Lent the Lord’s Days are listed as Sundays in Lent, not Sundays of Lent.

How Can I (& My Family) Keep a Holy Lent?

Traditionally, the Lenten season is observed in four basic (and often overlapping) ways:

Self-Examination.  As we’ve discussed, this is central to the traditional Lenten observance.  Use this time to ask yourself some hard questions about your spiritual life, your spiritual maturity. ^d If you’re married, ask your spouse to give you his or her evaluation of your spiritual health.  Many Christians have a Christian friend, or a small group of fellow believers, who have agreed to hold them accountable.  If you don’t have an accountability group or partner, Lent might be a good time to initiate such a relationship.  Parents—especially fathers—could use Lent as time to spend more time with their children individually, trying to understand their particular spiritual struggles and providing them encouragement.

With all this emphasis on self-examination, however, it is crucial to keep your focus the gospel:  All of us are more sinful and helpless that we would’ve ever dared admit, yet in Christ we are more accepted and forgiving than we would’ve ever dared hope.  Be careful that your self-examination is centered on this good news.  There is always the danger of falling into morbid introspection, which can lead to despair over your own spiritual health and to a harsh legalism towards others.

Self-denial.  The Lenten season traditionally is also a time for acts of self-discipline and self-denial, a time to remind ourselves that we do not live by bread alone.  Self-denial helps us remember what is so beautifully signified in the Eucharist—that Jesus is the true bread of life, our only source of strength and sustenance.

The two major fast days of the traditional church year—Ash Wednesday and Good Friday—both occur during the Lenten season.  Traditionally the other days of Lent—except Sundays, of course ^e —are marked by other acts of self-denial.  Some common examples would be giving up one meal a day or giving up a particular food.  Self-denial, however, doesn’t always involve what we eat; some people may work on other habits, seeking better to use their time.  (I’ve known some people to fast from watching too much television!)  For families in this dangerously frenetic culture, Lent would certainly be an appropriate time to cut back on the seemingly endless flow of activities and spend time worshipping, praying, and learning together.

Since fasting is so unfamiliar to many in our culture, it is wise to consult with a pastor or other spiritual leader before making any decision in this area.  (Some people, of course—such as expectant or nursing mothers, the sick, and those on special diets—should not fast.)  Before you begin fasting, I would recommend that you look at what the Scriptures say about the practice (see especially Matthew 6), and perhaps get some guidance from good books on the subject. ^f  And again, remember that there is nothing magic in these spiritual disciplines; they are tools to help you grow closer to Christ.

Acts of compassion.  The Lenten season is a particularly appropriate time to ask God to fill you with compassion for the poor and oppressed and to put this into practice in concrete ways.  This can take many practical forms.  For example, there are Christians who give up one meal a day as a Lenten discipline, and then give the money they’ve saved by doing so to the poor.  Many churches—including ours—have an Easter offering for ministries of mercy, so money saved during Lent could be given at that time.

There are many ways in which families can practice compassion during Lent.  In your neighborhood, there may be a poor family you could help (with or without drawing attention to yourselves).  Or maybe you know an older person who lives alone who could use some help around the house—or would simply like having a friend.  Some families save their loose change or forgo some simple expenditures, then give the money to the poor.  Lent can be an excellent opportunity to teach our children the value of compassion. ^g

Using the means of grace.  Finally, the Lenten season is a time for renewing our focus on the means of grace—a focus that all-too-easily fades when not given adequate attention.  Historically, the church has said there are three means of grace—three instruments through which God helps us grow to be more and more like Christ: the Scriptures, prayer, and the sacraments.

If regular times of prayer and Bible study have never been a part of your life (or if they once were but have become less so), then Lent is a wonderful opportunity to begin these life-changing practices.  There are scores of lectionaries and Bible-reading plans out there; talk with a pastor or mature Christian to help you find one right for you; ^h there are also many helpful aids for developing a consistent life of prayer.  Then Lenten season would also be a good time to get involved in a small group—a practice that generations of Christians have commended as key to their spiritual growth.  And if your family doesn’t have a time of worship together, Lent is a great time to start—and then keep going the rest of the year!

In our individualistic culture, it is all too easy to lose sight of the fact that Christianity is a communal faith, that the center of Christian life is not private religious devotion but corporate worship, gathering with fellow believers to sing, pray, and receive Holy Communion.  There are many today who identify themselves as Christians but for whom the church is peripheral and tangential.  If this sounds like you, then use this Lenten season to commit yourself to the community of God’s people.  If you are a follower of Christ and yet have never been baptized, then make every effort to be baptized as soon as possible.  If you have been baptized, remember that in baptism you were incorporated into a community, the family of God, and that you are to join in the family meal, the Eucharist.  And parents, the Lenten season is a wonderful time to help your children realize that the church is their family, that worship is their first duty and greatest joy.  And if your children understand the gospel, then this season could be a wonderful time to take the steps toward having them admitted to the Lord’s Table.

As Lent begins this year, my prayer for you is that this would be a truly blessed season, a time of genuine and significant spiritual growth for you and for your family.  May God grand you a truly holy Lent.

Lord God, eternal and almighty Father, we join with the first Christians in praising you for the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have received forgiveness and eternal life.  We thank you, too that it became the custom of the church to prepare the celebration of Christ’s resurrection in a time of penitence and self-examination.  Grant us, therefore, gracious Father, the grace to observe a holy Lent by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on your holy Word.  Grant that we may remember that though we are dust, and to dust we shall return, that we have been born anew to a living hope through the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen

Appendix: Questions for Self-Examination

1. Have I been fervent in prayer?  Was there warmth?  Access?

2. Have I prayed at my stated times? With my family?

3. Have I practiced God’s presence, at least every hour?

4. Have I, before every deliberate action or conversation, considered how it might be turned to God’s glory?

5. Have I sought to center conversations on the other person’s interests and needs and ultimately toward God, or did I turn them toward my own interests?

6. Have I given thanks to God after every pleasant occurrence or time?

7. Have I thought or spoken unkindly to anyone?

8. Have I been careful to avoid proud thoughts or comparing myself to others?  Have I done things just for appearance?  Have I mused on my own fame or acclaim?

9. Have I been sensitive, warm, and cheerful toward everyone?

10. Have I been impure in my thoughts or glances?

11. Have I confessed sins toward God and others swiftly?

12. Have I over or under-eaten, -slept, or -worked?

13. Have I twisted the truth to look good?

14. Have I been leading in my home, or only reacting to situations?

In his set of questions for self-examination, the late Jack Miller gets right to the point? ⁱ

1. Is God working in your life?

2. Have you been repenting of your sin lately?

3. Are you building your life on Christ’s free justification or are you insecure and guild-ridden?

4. Have you done anything simply because you love Jesus?

5. Have you stopped anything simply because you love Jesus?

Endnotes:

a. In much the same way, we celebrate the resurrection of Christ each Sunday, but especially at Easter; and while we should always thank God for the Incarnation, we especially celebrate it at Christmas.  These periodic reminders keep us from becoming forgetful and imbalanced.

b. This phrase comes from Dr. Jack Collins for Covenant Theological Seminary in St. Louis.

c. The list could be quite long, such as standing fro prayer and praise, bowing one’s head and closing one’s eyes fro prayer.  Two practices not generally practiced by Presbyterians also come to mind: Lifting up one’s hands for prayer and praise is seen in both Scripture and history.  And making the sign of the cross, while post-biblical, has a long history (yes, even in Protestant circles).

d. See the questions at the end of this paper for a place to start.

e. The traditional church calendar sometimes has a few other “feast days” during Lent as well.

f. An excellent discussion on fasting and other spiritual disciplines is found in Donald S. Whitney, Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life (NavPress, 1991)

g. For more ideas on building compassion as a value in your family, see John & Susan Yates, What Really Matters at Home: Eight Crucial Elements for Building Character in Your Family (Word, 1992), especially chapter 5.

h. A “daily office lectionary” with readings from both Old and New Testaments is printed in the Trinity Church bulletin each week.

i. These questions are from Outgrowing the Ingrown Church (Zondervan, 1986).

The Rev. Dr. Craig Higgins is the founding and senior pastor of Trinity Church in Rye, NY, and is a graduate of Mercer University, Westminster Theological Seminary, and Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry.  Craig grew up in the mountains of northeast Georgia, near Cornelia, and has been a fan of the Braves since the team moved to Atlanta when he was five years old.  He and his wife, Ann, have three children—Caroline, Andrew, and Abigail—and live in Rye.

Copyright © 1998. Craig R. Higgins

Lent begins in two days, a period each year in which Christians are encouraged to take seriously the need to intentionally step away from being self-centered.

I grew up in a tradition that was dismissive of Lent. “Show me a verse that commands us to give up chocolate for Lent,” someone would say. And all those in the know would snicker, since there are none, of course.

The church mothers and fathers that bequeathed us Lent thought in different categories. They knew Scripture to be God’s revelation in Christ, not a list of rules detailing the minutia of life. Proof-texting would be appropriate, I suppose, if the Bible was given as a software manual, but it is not, so proof-texting must be seen for what it is: a misuse of God’s word. Our spiritual ancestors also knew that repentance is not a once-for-all experience, and that if we didn’t intentionally focus on it periodically we probably would fail to increasingly mature into lives characterized by repentance. Judging by my own experience, they were correct. I could give lots of reasons, but they all boil down to pride.

“Probably at no point,” John Stott writes in Issues Facing Christians Today, “does the Christian mind clash more violently with the secular mind than in its insistence on humility and its implacable hostility to pride” [p 37]. That’s not what would have come to mind if I were asked where the Christian mind differed most violently from a secular worldview, but I think Stott may be correct. “It would be hard to improve,” Stott adds in Life in Christ, “on Luther’s description of fallen man as homo in se incurvatus, ‘man curved in on himself.’ Human fallenness is human selfishness” [p 86].

The more I write this blog the less comfortable I am about this topic. Which is precisely the reason I need to take Lent seriously this year.