Ash Wednesday: Turn Around, Jonah

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 147:1-11; Jonah 3:1-4:11; Hebrews 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

When most people think of the story of Jonah, they think of "Jonah and the Whale" or the great fish that carried him in its belly to dry land. While that may be the most spectacular element of the story, it is not the most important. Today's reading comes from the end of the story, when Jonah has preached to the Ninevites as the Lord commanded him to do. He is despondent because the Ninevites - enemies who oppressed his people - have taken his warning to heart and repented, and worse yet the Lord has forgiven and spared them from destruction. Jonah is so upset he retreats to the edge of town, where the hot sun beats down on him, and tells the Lord he would rather die than be party to the Ninevite's salvation. The Lord, of course, sees it differently.

Lent is a time to meditate on our own need to repent, to turn away from our sins and towards our God. Jonah's story reminds us repentance comes in many forms. Are we Ninevites, blatantly disregarding God? If so, we can decide right now to accept God's eternally open invitation to reconciliation. When we truly repent we won't need to wear sackcloth like the real Ninevites for the change to be obvious. Jonah, it turns out, is a tougher nut to crack. He clings so tightly to his hatred of the Ninevites that he resents God's mercy and willingness to forgive them. If we are religious people who think we've got it right, self-reflection might reveal we're Jonahs. We might not be able to accept deep down that those who aren't quite getting it right, or who have done us wrong, or who aren't repenting in the ways we think they should, are equally beloved by God. Being "in the right" can blind us to just how wrong our hearts are.

This Lent, let's reflect on how we might repent and forgive those who challenge us. Not only does God forgive them, but He invites us to be part of the whole process. That means we can't sit on our cushion of resentment watching them from afar, but that we must learn to live in the thick of them, loving them even when we can't like them. We will know we have repented when, no matter which way we turn, we face God.

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 51

The Lenten Journey: A Well Lit Path

Today's readings: Ps 119:73-80, 145; Gen 37:1-11; 1 Cor 1:1-19; Mark 1:1-13

I remember watching a television documentary about newly discovered caves in Russia. The only entrance to them was deep underwater. The narrator made great fanfare of how the divers we watched would be the first humans to ever see the sights within. I couldn’t help thinking: “Except for the lighting and camera crew that set up this shot...”

When we plumb the depths of faith, there’s a good chance someone has prepared the way ahead of us. The “spontaneous” civil disobedience of Rosa Parks was no accident, but is no less important for being deliberate. The latest “overnight sensation” in the entertainment industry almost always has a hero or mentor. Even Jesus had John the Baptist to “make his paths straight” (Mark 1:3) and warm up the crowds.

So who has prepared our way? Christ has. As the incarnation of the divine (whatever that may mean to you), Christ lived out the full human experience, full of love and pain and death and triumph, without straying from the path God had laid out for him. Our path is never exactly his, but Christ has gone before us and set the lights and markers for us to follow. Because of Christ’s example, we have faith the journey of a human life is more than the thorny path of mere existence.

Like the lighting crew in the caves, it is Christ who has done the truly dangerous work, stepping into the darkness without certainty about what lay ahead. Because he was fully human, he was susceptible to doubt and fear. As his death approached, even he felt God had forsaken him (Mk 15:34, Matt 27:46). But because he has gone before us, we can trust God’s light will be present to greet us in the darkest places.

Are we preparing the way for anyone? Do we know who might be searching for a light we could provide or a bridge we could build? Every so often, as we progress on our Lenten and life journeys, let’s take a look behind us to see whether we add to or extinguish the light in our wake.

Comfort: Wherever you go, Christ was there first.

Challenge: Thank someone whose has helped guide you, especially if they may not be aware of it..

Prayer: God of the journey, you are my light in dark places.

Evening readings: Ps 121, 6

Discussion Question:
Other than Jesus, who has been a light on your faith journey?

The Lenten Journey: Choose Your Own Adventure

Today's readings: Ps 22, 148; Ez 18:1-4, 25-32; Phil 4:1-9; John 17:9-19

In the days before GPS and MapQuest, it was common for people embarking on a long car trip to visit AAA or another travel agent to get customized route maps (AAA still calls them TripTiks). An atlas could only get you so far before you needed additional city and street maps for the local details. Today we just click on “zoom.” But past or present, we need to know the end point of our journey to get directions. Our Lenten journey doesn’t work quite that way.

Our Lenten journey ends with resurrection – Easter – and we know the annual stories and readings that act as signposts throughout the season. But if our end point is a living, contemporary, present Christ, simply retracing 2000 year old steps – no matter how sacred – won’t get us there. Plenty of us are intimately familiar with Christ’s journey, yet stuck spinning our wheels. Without knowing direction resurrection may take in our own lives, how can we know in what direction to start our journey?

Ezekiel knows. The prophet advises his listeners the way forward is to repent – literally, to “turn around” their lives. A journey can begin because we have somewhere to go to – or somewhere to leave from. Even if we don’t know where we will end up, we generally know what in our lives we need to walk away from. Of course knowing is much easier than doing. Abuse, addiction, anger – if these things were easy to leave, Ezekiel could have kept his day job. It’s easier to stay in a bad or even dangerous yet familiar situation than to walk the unknown road. Rather than following a prescribed map, we find ourselves in a “Choose Your Own Adventure” scenario, where each choice leads us down an unknown path. We hope for a happy ending, but if things don’t work out, we can retrace our steps and begin again. And God will travel with us every time.

No matter how much we might like it to be so, faith is not a matter of following someone else’s maps, no matter how beautifully they’ve been drawn. God calls us to the uncharted territory of broken places – our own and others – and to the kingdom of wholeness waiting beyond.

Comfort: All steps taken in faith are in the right direction.

Challenge: Start a “travel journal” to map your Lenten adventures.

Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for trusting me to go new places.

Evening readings: Ps 105, 130

Discussion question:
Is there anywhere you both desire and fear to go?

The Lenten Journey: Citizenship in Heaven

Today's readings: Ps 27; 147:12-20, Hab 3:1-18, Phil 3:12-21; John 17:1-8

Have you ever heard someone described as a “citizen of the world?” Such people are usually considered well-traveled, sophisticated and fluent in diverse cultures. We perceive them as feeling at home in almost any setting. Though we may sense in them a bit of restlessness, we generally admire their ease and poise.

In Paul’s letter to the Phillipians, he claims their citizenship is in heaven. What does it mean to be a citizen of a place you can’t physically visit? First, we must recognize that in Paul’s Roman Empire, where slaves outnumbered citizens, the term “citizen” carried significant meaning. When Paul told people – regardless of legal class – they were citizens of heaven, he was telling them they had full rights and protections bestowed by God. Today’s strife over illegal immigration gives us only a small taste of the feelings that must have arisen - in citizens and non-citizens alike – when Paul announced all people were on equal footing under God.

As we progress in our Lenten journey, what will be the implications of our citizenship? Certainly it adds perspective to any form of nationalism; the borders of heaven are limitless, after all. How will we conduct ourselves in non-native lands, among people of different or no belief? How can we avoid becoming the Christian equivalent of the “ugly American” who treats other cultures with disregard? In many physical countries, we might rely on an ambassador or embassy to coach us in diplomacy and respect. Fortunately, we have Christ as our ambassador. His example of moving among all peoples with a strength born of peace and love is our example.

One last component of citizenship is responsibility. While citizens of the world have a responsibility to comply with local laws and customs, citizens of heaven are responsible to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly (Micah 6:8), even when doing so conflicts with expectations. Simultaneously loving and confounding is quite the balancing act. We can expect that not everyone will admire or even like us. We may even be outright rejected. But our true home and Lord will never abandon us.

Comfort: No one can revoke the citizenship God grants us.

Challenge: Try composing a Christian “Bill of Rights.”

Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for my rights and responsibilities.

Evening readings: Ps 126, 102

Discussion question:
Has there ever been a conflict between your national and heavenly citizenships?