What a Writer Might Give Up for Lent

Ash Wednesday came and went more than two weeks ago. That evening my sons and I chuckled over what people give up for Lent--chocolate, French fries, sodas, TV--in the forty days of preparing for Easter.

The Youngest said, "Why not sin?"

A great idea! Giving up a good gift gives us a taste of the sufferings of Christ, but releasing the grip on favorite vices can be a sign of real repentance.

This is my first time to ponder this enigmatic season. It requires grasping two concurrent truths: my wretchedness sent my Beloved to an excruciating, humiliating death and that excruciating, humiliating death revealed my Beloved's incomparable glory. What's more, because death was powerless to hold Him, death is powerless to hold me.

So this season demands sober reflection on writerly sins:

        jealousy: Why don't I succeed like her?

        fear of man: What's the market? What do people want to 
        hear?


        sloth: The writing will just work itself out.


        pity: Why does writing have to be so hard?

        comparison: Your work is okay, but mine is great.

        pride: I am all that.



They aren't just bad. They are death.


Oh, that this season would birth new life through believing God's words.

        As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones, in 
        whom is all my delight.


        I know that it will be well with those who fear God.


        Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land and    
        befriend faithfulness.
        Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the 
        desires of your heart.
        Commit your way to the LORD; trust also in him, 
        and he will act.


        Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on 
        earth that I desire besides you.
        My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength 
        of my heart and my portion forever.
      


        Not that we dare to classify or compare ourselves with some 
        of those who are commending themselves. But when they 
        measure themselves by one another and compare themselves
        with one another, they are without understanding.


        Thus says the LORD: "Let not the wise man boast in his 
        wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not 
        the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts 
        boast in this, that he understands and knows me, 
        that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice,    
        and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, 
        declares. the LORD."


        "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble."


He sears like an iron and pours balm on the wounds. Next year, this season, may you and I join the psalmist in this invitation:

        Come and hear, all you who fear God, 
        and I will tell you what he has done for my soul.


        (Scripture taken from Ps 16:3; Ecc 8:12; Ps 37:3-5;  
         Ps 73:25-26; 2 Cor 10:12; Jer 9:23; Jas 4:6; Ps 66:16,
         ESV).


     

Greater Than

Third grade math was a blast. We kids competed like Olympians when Miss Barbara passed out the timed drills. We knew what equaled what and we sported paper crowns to prove it. Then came the big bump in the road: inequalities. That meant slowing down to compare objects and figure out which was larger and which was smaller, however similar. Gone were the crisp parallel lines. In came the arrowheads, pointy ends accusing the smaller and open arms reaching for the larger.

The memories of early math days tumbled back this week when I came across a paper headed “God is Greater Than.” GOD marked the left side of the page and a few things that turn most of our heads were on the right. I took the liberty of lengthening the right hand column.

GOD fears

failures

embarrassments

conundrums

conflicts

sin

death

loves

hopes

plans

abilities

creativity

reputation

accomplishments

Just one of the right side items can feel like a weight only a truck scales could handle. Add the jumble together and they could sink the earth right out its orbit. And then I remember this God, the God of Scripture, God alone, measures the universe in the hollow of His hand like I used to cradle tad poles weighing slightly more than a speck back in third grade.

Someone has said writing requires reverence, really seeing and being awed by the wonders everywhere around us. No doubt. I drive blind through a lot of life, one day plowing down the interstate of fear and confusion and the next day turning off to feast my eyes on every scenic bend in the route to achievement.

Writing forces me to repent. Writing demands me to pull the car over right now and do a one-eighty whether I’m stewing on all that has gone, is going, or will go wrong or delighting in successes I can see for miles. Writing insists on the about-face, turning the back on both the worst and the best. Only then are any of us free to face square into God.

And then we’ll get it right as any child. We’ll draw the pointy end toward ourselves and all that concerns us and draw long arms sporting a very wide angle toward God, who is greater than all.