
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’
-Luke 18:10-14
The vivid realities of our temporal calendar are lived from Christmas to Epiphany/Carnival to Lent to Holy Week and Easter. I have to stop short as I enter Lent, a season carved out of the image of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, to remember that Jesus’ time in the wilderness was bootcamp for his ministry. It was before he called even his first Disciple. The wilderness was first. You and I live Lent as a prelude to Holy Week, as though the two are chronologically attached in scripture. I cheat my attitude about Lent when I think of it as a fast to make me worthy of the gift of the empty tomb.
Maybe that is part of it, but I find it more eye-opening if I think of Lent as a preparation for ministry. If I do it correctly for me, I must name my wilderness with ruthless honestly. Wilderness can be found in many places in our lives. We can equip ourselves to comfortably stand in the wildness of God’s raw creation and be awed. Duck-blinds and Tetons are humbling; it’s the humility of ineffable gratitude. There are wildernesses into which we are thrust. Loss and grief, error, self-doubt, and shame. There are wildernesses we construct of hubris or fear. “I have a reputation to uphold.” “Leadership. That’s not me; I’d surely fail. I’m just a worker bee.” “My parents made me do it…”
The object of Lent in the wilderness is not to suffer. The object of Lent is for each of us to encounter our true, humble self, and in that encounter find peace. Some degree of pain will surely be a result of taking a courageous path through our Lenten wilderness. Suffering is on the path, the path to humility and redemption. Redemption is the balance we require in ministry.
At the empty tomb we fully experience the grace of the moment because we have the balance of redemption, not because we self-inflicted suffering. Redemption is what gives legs and Christian point-of-view to our declaration, “Here am I Lord.”
I am, by grace, inclined to explore wilderness over the next 40 days. See you there in the scary places.
Musical Reflection - Bach/Reger; Organ Chorale on “Oh Sacred Head Now Wounded” Jeff Perkes
Jesus my Lord, your wilderness was not to much about rocks, hot sun, hunger, and sand as it was about presenting yourself as the Son of God, in weakened human form, to the worst Satan had to offer. You prevailed, and so began your ministry. Coach me through my journey to humility and redemption. Remind me to take each step in the certainty that I journey toward the light of your Love. Amen.
Login To Leave Comment