Lent was made for you, not you for Lent
On my run this morning through a man-made park surrounding a man-made reservoir, I couldn’t help but notice the limitations. Trees planted in perfect gridlines, a symmetry that may be pleasing in other settings, but in nature is unsatisfying. The bare ground struggling to flourish, constantly replanted in a seasonal rotation of shrubbery and annuals.
The park is still a welcome respite for the city-worn-and-weary. I’m grateful to run on the same path every day, to see trees and rocks and water, even if I know this is a far cry from what could be. But I know the park was made for me, not me for it.
This morning, I thought about the words of Jesus in the gospel of Mark: The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Jesus is responding to the Pharisees, who are questioning his disciples behavior in their apparent failure to observe Sabbath tradition. Later, he again defends what appears to be a lack of spiritual discipline. His disciples, unlike those of John the Baptist or other rabbis, refrain from fasting. And Jesus backs them up. It seems like Jesus has a different idea about how to observe even good spiritual practices.
The season of Lent is upon us, and it is a good spiritual practice that has a long history in the church. I am always drawn to its helpful focus on repentance, fasting, mortality, and care for one’s neighbor. All of this with the intent of creating space in your life for more of God, and preparing your heart for Easter. But, in spite of these good things, I have found myself struggling this year to engage in it with any gusto.
There is a nagging sense that perhaps I put too much stock in the man-made function of the discipline, when I need to see that it is always grace and more grace that does any work in our lives. Perhaps it is just a weariness of expectation, praying and fasting and wanting to see results, when like the dirt covered ground in our man-made park, I am always reliant on an outside source to make me flourish.
Recently, I’ve been reading the book of Mark, and wondering if it doesn’t have something to say about the struggle of this Lenten season. Jesus comes on the scene and announces his kingdom, and calls people to follow him. He surprisingly allows for grace in the spiritual disciplines. He keeps announcing that He is here, and He is the one who has authority over the Law, the demons, the body, the opening of spiritually blind eyes. He keeps drawing the focus to himself.
Ironically, sometimes in trying to make space for God, our spiritual disciplines can just make us think more about ourselves. I certainly don’t think this is always the case, nor do I think we throw off all the practices that help our wayward souls. We need them. But sometimes we don’t. Sometimes, we just need to be with Him; to know that we were not made for the Sabbath, or for fasting, or for Lent, but for Him.
Maybe it is disappointing to say I don’t have any grand suggestions for a way to walk through these forty days leading to Easter. Others do, and I welcome their sage advice and thoughtful wisdom.
Instead, I am going to run through my man-made park every day and look at the fallow ground, and the bare trees raising their bony arms to the sky. I am going sit with Jesus words in the gospel of Mark and remember that it is He who comes, and He who makes things grow.