Last Wednesday I was all prepared to attend an 8:30am mass at a local Catholic church in order to "get ashes". I had been consistently praying about "doing Lent" this year and I was ready. When I got up and saw some snow, coupled with the realization that I had an important 10am phone conference for which I'd have to sit in my car if I attended the mass, I opted for the noon "Ash Wednesday" service, thinking it would be shorter and could serve as my "lunch break".
When I arrived I saw all manner of folk walking in; single men and women, older folks, business people, mothers with young children. I choose a pew mid-way towards the front and waited. I stared at the crucifix, giant and looming with my Savior bleeding and suffering. I prayed a prayer of preparation.
The service started like many other Catholic masses--a few choruses, responses, and Scripture readings. The priest's homily was short but meaningful. He talked about ashes being a part of the renewal and regrowth process, much like burning out a field in preparation for next year's crops. He said that the time of Lent and the receiving of ashes was intended to help us grow something beautiful to be ready at Easter. Wow...
There was some distracting instruction as the priest called out for helpers to dispense ashes...and then it was time. The cantor began to sing "Ashes to Ashes" and people en mass rose and started towards the aisles.
Maybe it was the beautiful words to the song, maybe it was the recognition of what I was about to receive and the meaning behind it, but for some reason, all of a sudden, I began to cry. And not just a tear or two, rather rivers running down my face in 2 blackened mascara lines. As I walked slowly towards the lady dispensing the ashes, my heart was so full of humility, repentance, and grace. It was my turn. I didn't try to wipe away my tears. She murmured something and made the sign of the cross on my forehead. I whispered, "Thank you", and returned to my seat, head bowed, praying.
When I looked up a few minutes later as the priest began speaking again, I was amazed that I was one of about a dozen people left in the sanctuary. I the majority got their ashes and split! I remained in my seat until the close and then left quietly. Broken but full. And marked.
Finally having a "uniform" of sorts for the rest of the day, it served as such a conduit to share my faith. The kids were interested in why I had "black stuff" on my head and as I explained, a few said, "I need that. I need to get closer to God". Later in the day, one of our staff came into my office and asked about the ashes. I told her my story about never "doing Lent" before and about how this was a personal aim to deepen my faith. At one point she sat back and said, "Explain it to me. Lent. Go!" and I pulled up the church newsletter I'd referenced in my previous blog. A church goer she is, but we remained together for a while talking about faith, the church, and all manner of good things. It was a nice lift.
In the same newsletter I recalled the challenge of not just giving something up but also doing something you wouldn't normally do. Earlier in the day, I'd been exchanging texts with a guy from church who had a "jail ministry" that he, our pastor's wife, a few others from church, and I were hoping to expand. He asked if I could meet that night at 7pm. Now, if I don't have to be out at night for work, I like to come home and stay put. I hemmed and hawed a bit...convicted because I had already told him that I was available on Wednesday night the week before and knowing I had no good reason not to go. So I committed to go in the spirit of Lent.
I arrived at a storefront in Pleasantville that looked like a front for something else. There were 2 people inside that paid me no mind as I asked for "X" because I was here for a meeting and was told he was on his way. The smoke alarm kept chirping. It was so cold I didn't take off my jacket. I could not tell what the store sold for sure but there were a few faded signs for cellular service (I think?) and a few big bags of potato chips and candy being offered for $1.50 on a random table.
X showed up and, with none of the then 4 other people in the room speaking barely a word, began to explain this "ministry" to me. I asked 9,000 questions about how it all worked. I in no way discredited the fact that these folks seemed legit in wanting to help this portion of the "least of these" but it seemed very disorganized. No process, no written materials, no checks and balances. I wasn't discouraged, rather, I was a bit amused.
We concluded with some next steps, a prayer, and I left. When I got into my car I began to laugh out loud because the whole thing just seemed so...messy. Then I got that nudge. It occurred to me at that moment that one of my spiritual gifts, administration, would serve well for this bunch. A manual. A flowchart of how it all works. A written mission or purpose statement. An outline. Training materials. Stuff I know and do well. Will this ministry continue? Who knows, but it was a clear sign to me what gift I could bring to this group in order to make it more effective. Thy will be done.
In the days that have followed, I have included readings from "Stories Behind the Traditions and Songs of Easter" by Ace Collins in my morning devotions. What a gift to my soul! The history of "All Glory, Laud, and Honor", "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross", "At the Cross", "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" and a few others. An extended definition and history of Lent (wow!). After reading I pull up the song on Youtube and listen...and thankfully it seems to stay with me all day.
The self-denial piece hasn't been quite the struggle I'd anticipated (yet), praise God. It has primarily involved a major shift in thinking and routine which, aside from the actual "piece" itself, has been the hardest part. Instead of doing "this" I've had to do something else, distract myself, focus on something else, and affirm myself that God is being honored in that process. My daily devotions have been devoted to studying the "favor of God" (more on that later) which, in short, often comes through our obedience to Him (which I knew but it's something else to immerse yourself in that Truth morning after morning). I also had been reading a book prior to Ash Wednesday called "The Unmistakable Touch of Grace" written by Cheryl Richardson. It's a bit "New Agey" but many of the concepts are spot on--it's essentially about becoming more aware of the "grace moments" in your life and the hand of Providence providing them, whether through people, circumstances, etc. The "nudge" I received in the car on my way home from the jail ministry meeting is what I would now call a "grace moment" and during the last 5 days since Ash Wednesday, I've been aware of many others (more on that later too!)
What is growing inside me that will be beautiful and ready by Easter? I'm sure only God knows...I could call the whole thing quits right now and feel like I am closer, more humble, and better off than where I was on Fat Tuesday. But I'm prepared to stick it out and allow the seed(s) to grow. I do, however, wish I could have kept the ash cross on my forehead for the whole season...
No comments:
Post a Comment