Just the other day I stood before my kitchen calendar to count the number of days since the coronavirus lockdown began. When that number turned out to be 40, something (God I hope) caught my attention.
Not only did this seem like an unthinkably long time for us to be staying at home, but 40 days brought to mind Jesus’ wilderness time and the traditional church practice associated with it – Lent.
I’ve come relatively late to the practice of Lent. Lent was not part of the church tradition I grew up in; nor is it familiar to the church community I am currently a part of. But it found me anyway. And the annual rhythm of it, the intentional almost melancholy nature of it, the staking out of time and place as holy ground, fits with who I am and how I relate to God.
The ideal of Lent is beautiful to me. A good solid month and half to pare back, repent, realign and enter into the walk of Christ towards the cross. To me it seems a fitting journey towards the confronting remembrance of Easter. One that lets Easter do a much-needed slower work each year.
I wouldn’t say that I am at all adept at travelling through Lent. Most years I fall far short of my plans, but there is value in it nonetheless. I’ve generally observed Lent by fasting something and by adding a spiritual practice. More recently, with young children, it has been a time to develop family traditions: tangible, colourful practices, wrapped in story, reiterating truths that I hope my children will grasp and hold to.
Earlier this year, sometime that now feels a lifetime ago, circa February 2020, I entered Lent during a season of transitions and juggling. Guided by a startling Lent devotional book (40 Days of Decrease by Alicia Britt Chole), I sincerely echoed John the Baptist’s prayer as my heart posture for Lent:
He must become greater; I must become less. John 3:30
I put my plans into action: went without treats, read my devotional, ate pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. We lit candles each dinner time and talked about Jesus.
But then Lent 2020 was hijacked.
Through March, wave after wave of increasingly concerning news began to break. Until it was no longer just news, but life-altering restrictions in the cause of saving lives. Like everyone, my schedule, plans, equanimity and peace were upended.
Amongst all of that external and internal chaos, my Lent practice was pretty much abandoned. My good intentions to deny myself fell away as a little evening comfort chocolate seemed a small mercy to self in the face of it all. I had little capacity for focusing on anything other than the coronavirus and its impacts, close and far. The devotional book continued to anchor my mornings, but the candles went unlit and the paper chain of bible stories remained incomplete.
But despite those discarded Lent plans and my distracted focus, I now see that my Lent of 2020 was not lost. Rather, a rebooted version of Lent began for me a few weeks after it’s official start.
Though enforced and unintended, there is still a form of fasting going on. I’m fasting going out for anything other than the supermarket run. I’m fasting shopping. And I’m fasting having time when I’m not responsible for caring for my kids. (So) I’m fasting alone time. I’m fasting seeing the light of understanding in a friend’s eye or receiving a hug. And I’m fasting food not made by me. I’m fasting having a reason to dress fancy. I’m fasting worshipping God side by side with my church community and physically being among a body of believers.
These denials, the small and the larger, are not the life I would choose. But there is so much good in this decrease. I am grateful to feel my soul awakening in the confines of this life. I am learning anew that there is grace in the letting go, that growth can spring from what is laid down. I’m beginning to feel the benefits of this stripping away on my soul: a loosening of the grip of unknown idols, a call to let go of anything that does not please God, an increased longing for Jesus.
This upgraded Lent has been one of greater intensity and I hope, therefore, of greater space for God.
I’m not sure when and how it will end. It is unlikely that any Resurrection Day-like celebration is imminent. And I’m ok with that, welcoming even, for it’s a chance for God to do a deeper, more lasting work in me.
I am hopeful that the other side of my Lent prayer, that He might become greater, would be worked out in my life.
Gracious God, thank you for this gift among the storm. I choose to allow you to keep stripping away the things that are not you. I ask that you would fill the space with more of you.
Do you find Lent a helpful spiritual practice? How was the Lent period of 2020 changed for you by the global pandemic?
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