Return trip God gives us a chance to start over on our path to Lent I confess: I did a lousy job of observing Lent last year. Really lousy. I was starting a business, which consumed most of my time and emotional energy. That’s no excuse, of course, just an explanation.  But I was happy to stumble on this passage from Joel the other day: “Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing” (2:12-13).If I read Joel correctly, I get a do-over! Yes, I did an exceptionally poor job observing Lent last year, but Joel tells me that God is gracious and merciful, just waiting for me to return. That’s good news. At least, I think it is. God has already forgiven my failures from last Lent. God has forgotten about them, moved on. Lent is here again, and I’m invited to try anew. But then there’s all that stuff about fasting and weeping, mourning and rending my heart. Yes, I’m forgiven. And yes, God has moved on and invites me to do the same. But moving on involves some effort, a commitment on my part. I have to admit that some piece of me would rather wallow in my failures: It’s easier than stepping up to the plate and starting over. I’m still busy this year. If I made the barest of efforts, I could do a lousy job of observing Lent again. But to do so would be to reject God’s love, God’s invitation into the deeper relationship that transforms us. I’m reminded of the title of John McQuiston’s wonderful book of Benedictine spirituality: Always We Begin Again (Morehouse, 1996). Those title words succinctly summarize what Joel says: God always gives us another chance. Lent this year and every year is a time to begin yet again, to take a chance on a do-over. To begin again we must, like God, let go of what is past. We must repent—turn around—before we can start over. Perhaps more than anything else, we have to let go of our failures and forgive ourselves. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find it easier to forgive others than myself. If a friend sinned or erred in exactly the same way, I’d likely be able to forgive her quickly while I hold onto the grievousness of my misdeeds for far too long. In Forgiven and Forgiving (Morehouse, 1998), New Testament professor L. William Countryman points out various reasons we reject God’s forgiveness and, in the process, fail to forgive ourselves. Maybe we think God isn’t taking us — and our numerous and grievous faults — seriously enough. If God only knew how truly awful we were, God wouldn’t forgive us. Yet God does know us and every one of our faults, in great detail, and still loves us and offers forgiveness. We just have to accept it. Countryman writes: “The message of forgiveness says to us, ‘Get over yourself!’ ” He continues: “Get over your goodness and your righteousness, if they threaten to keep you from full participation in humanity. Get over your faults, your inadequacy, if they hold you back. Get over whatever it is that makes you self-obsessed, whatever makes you reject God’s wooing of you, whatever makes you feel that you would rather not go into the party, whatever makes you feel like you belong to some separate and superior race of beings, whatever makes you feel like an eternal victim, whatever keeps you from living a real human life, whatever makes you imagine that there’s something in this world more important and more fundamental than love.” Getting over ourselves doesn’t mean that we treat failures as if they didn’t matter. They do matter. I recently wrote an article for a trade journal about all the mistakes I made last year in running my new business, pet-sitting. One was not keeping a client’s keys on me at all times, so a golden retriever actually locked me out of his house on a cold, wet, winter day. It wasn’t one of the world’s great sins, but it was a stupid mistake. Sharing it and other mistakes may help others who are new in the business. It also reminds me that I’m human and fallible, not God. And it starts the process of moving on. Beginning again I’m making the same effort with Lent this year. I’m admitting it: I got off the path last year or, more accurately, I never got a solid footing in the first place. Perhaps you had a similar experience. But that’s in the past. It no longer matters. What’s done is done. Instead the question is: What will we do to honor the Lenten season this year? How will we begin again? Some of us will decide to subtract a beloved activity or food from the next 40 days in remembrance of the sacrifice made on our behalf. Others will add something, perhaps a spiritual practice, as a way of deepening their relationship with God. Perhaps Lent includes sacrificial giving from the resources we have been given as stewards. Or regular attendance at Sunday and extra Lenten and Holy Week services and activities at church. There are many ways to mark this time of Lent, one of the church’s holiest of seasons. There are many ways to heed Joel’s call (and the call of many others throughout our Bible) to return to the Lord, our God, and remember the loss, pain and sacrifice that will be transformed in the Easter season yet to come. So if you haven’t yet decided how you will observe Lent this year, and, especially if you’re hanging on to what you failed to do last year, now is the time to choose and set out on a new path. It’s time to let go of what is past and return to the gracious and merciful God who is slow to anger and loves you abundantly. You’ve been given a do-over. Make the most of it. |
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