Lent: Embracing a New Way of Being (from UMCLead blog guest post on March 12, 2015)

During this Lenten season, I find myself craving God in ways I never thought I could. 

This winter in Boston, where I live and attend seminary at Boston University, has been a long one. In case the weather reports haven’t conveyed as such, the freezing temperatures and the 100+ inches of snow piled on sidewalks and streets have not made life particularly easy or fun. Sure, the initial delight in the magical flakes and the snow days brought forth from their arrival was a wonder to behold. But after the fifth or sixth snow day and severe transit delays and problems, winter has been wearying. 

I entered this Lent not much differently than I have in years past. I vowed to give up sweets to try and regain control over some of my less-than-healthy eating habits, to make my fasting an exercise in self-control and therefore somehow pleasing to God. But I left it at that, praying and trusting that Lent would be meaningful to me in some way or another. I tend to be somewhat of a perfectionist, sometimes misinterpreting or turning John Wesley’s language of perfection in a direction that becomes compulsive and even self-flagellating, depriving it of the God-given grace with which it is fundamentally a part. I spend much of my time in an institution where talking about social change, societal injustices, and the theological responses and positions to them is both wonderfully assuring and frighteningly marked by its own issues of justice and privilege. I am surrounded by circles of friends and mentors who are passionate about social justice and helping others. And I could not give God enough thanks for this. 

What I have also learned, especially pointedly so during this season of Lent, is that even these things have limitations. It can be all so draining- wanting and trying so hard to point all of the pieces of my life and what I believe I am called to in my ministry journey toward a right way of being, one that is put-together, accomplishing good for the world. But I so often forget the importance of surrender, of self-acceptance, of a sense that I am enough despite what I do or don’t do in a given day. 

Last week, I found myself craving worship and prayer. All I could do at some points during my week was cry and repeat words from Romans 8 as a mantra: “nothing can ever separate us,” and, “I am God’s beloved, no matter what.” 

I noticed a shift in my overall presence and attitude after I let go, remembered my finitude and—at the crux of it all- the unbounded love of God through the healer, prophet, and teacher called Jesus. I think the church needs to remember this, too. Throughout my few years working in and among ministers, social change agents and emerging prophets,  I have noticed both within myself and others the tendency to wrap our egos around our desire to help others. We sometimes do so so strongly that it becomes hard to separate genuine compassion and a commitment to working with and not just for the sick, the lonely, and those pushed to the margins by an unjust society from a desire to be seen as accomplished or righteous.

The work we do— that is, the work of justice, love and mercy—is urgent. And the work of surrender— of letting the water and light and care of God tend the seeds we plant— is just as important. 

May we know when to surrender, leaning, crying out, and praising into the love of God, this Lent and always.