Here we are, at the beginning of our Lenten journey. I’ve always had more of an appreciation for Lent than I have for New Years. Somehow a resolution for God holds better for me than one I make for myself. Or maybe it’s because it’s for a shorter time, forty days, from now to Easter, not counting Sundays. Technically Advent is the “New Year” in the Christian calendar, but for me, Lent feels like more of a new beginning. It’s a time for me to re-examine my connection to God, and to try to clear out the cobwebs, or the things that clutter up my spiritual life. Almost like a spiritual “spring cleaning”, preparing my heart for Easter and the biggest miracle of all, Christ’s resurrection.
Often people look at Lent as a time of suffering or depriving ourselves of something. A time when we have to go through struggles to mimic Jesus’ struggles in the desert, when he was without food and water and was tempted by the devil for 40 days. But it’s a time, not about denial, but about bringing ourselves closer to God. Even “fasting” is not about “starving” but about cutting back on rich foods, whether those are literal foods, like chocolate, or mental “rich foods” like television and movies, or any number of things that we see as a block between us and God. It’s about returning our focus to God.
Ash Wednesday kick-starts our Lenten journey. The readings that we heard today are the standard readings for Ash Wednesday. And while I think the Gospel passage has some very key aspects to it, I can’t help but notice the humour in reminding us not to be “like the hypocrites” and show off our prayer or fasting on Ash Wednesday, the day when we’re marked on our foreheads with a sign of our prayer. And, to make matters worse, I was taught as a kid that you don’t intentionally wipe off the ashes, which means they’re there until bedtime. An outward sign of what I was doing earlier today! There’s a danger that in this outward symbol of Lent we end up doing exactly what Jesus warns us against in our reading. If we feel a sense of pride in it, then maybe our best bet is to wash them off and cleaning ourselves up, so that our “fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret”.
These readings also serve as an important reminder to us of how we should worship God, not just today, or during Lent, or at a particular time, but always. We need to remember that it’s not about showing other people up, or believing ourselves to be a “better” Christian than others, or showing off how good, and holy, and pious, and prayerful we can be. And if we fast, or take part in a Lenten practice, it’s not about showing people how much we’re suffering, and what a martyr we are, but about putting on a good show of things, and keeping our fasting between ourselves and God. The importance lies in the action and intention of our hearts, and that’s something that remains between us and God.
Today also begins the first of our mid-week Lenten services, and the preaching series that goes along with those. We’re going to be looking at the baptismal covenant, and the different promises that we make (or were made for us) at our baptism. Each week will be a different promise. Today we’re looking at the promise to “persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord”. Now, evil is a tough thing to consider. Often we think that evil is something big and obvious, like murder. Or mass shootings. Or terrorist attacks. The big stuff. We picture “evil” coming in the form of a monster. And while, yes, those are indeed evil, there are a lot of lesser, smaller-scale evils out there in the world. There are evils present in every day of our lives, and even in the actions that we take in our world. Those can be as simple as snapping at a co-worker, or being rude to a cashier, or standing by and choosing to say nothing when you see another person being hurt, abused, or torn down in some way. It can be in the small lies people tell, or in the judging of others, or the gossiping about someone. There are many small evils in this world, those that separate us from God, and from our ideal way of being.
In fact, evil and sin tend to go hand-in-hand, as we see in this baptismal vow. Those who wrote the vow even left room for that, knowing how many mistakes we humans can make. We’re meant to persevere, or continue, to resist and avoid evil. To stay away from the evil things. The big, and the little. To do our best not to be involved in those.
And then comes the most important part. When we do fall into those things – because, yes, it will happen, we are “only human” as they say - we return to God and ask for forgiveness. To “repent”. To say we’re sorry. To turn back and put our focus on God. And then we try to not mess up again.
But we could mess up 7 times, or 70 times, or 700 times, and God will forgive us. Because, thankfully, as we heard in our Psalm today, “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” As long as we return with hearts that truly are looking for that forgiveness, we will be forgiven. That’s what Jesus died for! As long as we’re truly sorry, those sins are washed away. And God knows that difference! It’s kind of like when a little kid does something hurtful to another kid, pushing them, or calling them a name or something, and then they get called out on it by an adult. And the adult tells them to say they’re sorry. And the adult can tell whether the kid means it or not. If they look sulky, and cross their arms, and bark out an angry or snarky “Sorry!”, you know they don’t really mean it. And they’ll probably go out and do the same thing again, later, when they think no adults are watching or are around. But then there are the genuine times, when a kid realizes what they’ve done is wrong, and they’ll say a genuine sorry, with big, sad eyes, and often accompanied by a hug. You can tell something has shifted in them. Then you know they truly mean it. And that’s the kind of “Sorry” God wants from us, from the bottom of our hearts, when we sin, or fall off the wagon, or go astray, or whatever you want to call it. That’s not to say that the little kid, or we, for that matter, won’t go out and do the bad thing again, but maybe they’ve learned a little something. And maybe we have too. And hopefully the next time we start out to do our “evil” or “sinful” thing, we’ll think twice. And over time, maybe our priorities shift so that it doesn’t even cross our minds to keep doing that “evil” thing.
When I was a kid, I always enjoyed the “Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” books. If you’ve never read one, they’re quick little reads, where at the bottom of every page or two, the reader has to make a decision, and what they decide will take them to a different page. So your choice has an outcome, and changes the shape of the story as you’re reading it. Some end in the positive, and others not so much. But, the thing about “Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” books was just that: you had to choose. You couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I mean, you could, but it would get pretty boring, pretty quickly. The story wouldn’t move forward.
I look at Lent as a little bit of a “Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” story. You can choose to give something up. You can choose to choose to take something on. You can choose to do both. And, in this case, you can choose to do neither! The hope is that your adventure will improve your relationship with God, helping you to grow as a Christian. But, in any case, the choice is yours, and it’s entirely between you and God. You don’t have to share that choice with anyone, and, in fact, we’re almost encouraged in this Gospel reading not to share with others, to keep it between us and God. But I always think that there’s nothing wrong with having a buddy or a prayer partner or someone that you share these things with. Someone to support you on your journey. It’s when we get into the bragging territory that it becomes a problem.
Let us go forth, choosing our adventures. And may your adventure, each and every day, bring you closer to God. Amen.