Living Lent - LeeAnn Inman
My childhood church celebrated only three high, holy days: Christmas, Easter, and Mothers' Day. We skipped from Palm Sunday to Easter, but barely acknowledged the seasons of the Christian year. I learned about Lent when one of my best friends in elementary school, Joy Monahan, took me to St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church for a mid-week service during the season leading up to Holy Week. It was a cathedral, elegantly ornate in comparison with the simple architecture of our old Methodist sanctuary.
I was fascinated by the metal alms box built into the narthex wall. Joy's mom, explaining that the money dropped in this box was for the poor, gave us each a nickel to put in the narrow slot in the top of the box. It wasn't even Sunday! I loved the clinking sound the coins made as they hit the bottom of the tin container. The next week, I brought pennies from my piggy bank and dropped them in, one-by-one, while people coming in for the service noted my noisy offering with approval. I was so proud of myself!
I then noticed the old woman coming behind me, who quietly folded a twenty-dollar bill, stuffing it through the slot. The bill had much more value than my coins, but when dropped in the box, there was no noticeable noise. It was a feather falling from the sky, and no one turned around to look. No one recognized the gift. Only God could hear it, I thought.
In God's economy, reward has a different equation than the world's logic. Every time we give more of ourselves away, every time we do not ask for a reward, we find that a piece of our own broken lives has been restored. (I thank Pastor Maryetta Anschutz for her thoughtful words on God's economy in her commentary).
Much like God's economy of giving, The Lord's Prayer turns our lives inside out. It reminds us that the Christian life is about "we" and "us," not "me" and "I." It teaches that, as much as we ask God to give to us, we must be willing to give to God and one another in return. The hard truth is that the Lord's Prayer is just a starting place in addressing our mess.
At the heart of all his teachings to give, fast, pray, and not hoard the things of this life, Jesus offers one universal truth: The world says, prepare for the worst. Secure your borders. Hoard your money and hide it under the bed. Avoid the stranger. Take care of your own and one day they will take care of you. Jesus says, prepare for the best. Live expansive lives. Give generously. Engage the stranger. Care for the needy. As country music singer George Strait reminds us, "The hearse doesn't come with a luggage rack." So, Lent is not about feeling holy, but about lifelong commitments that help us hold on to the things that will sustain and restore us, the "life that really is life."
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