Lent and Liturgy

On the morning of Ash Wednesday, I texted Tom and told him that I have a crush on the church calendar. I admire it from afar, but I don't know how to go about getting to know it. He thought this was a weird way to phrase it, and with all my talk about sexy Jesus, I can see why he would be perplexed by my lustful language toward the sacred these days. But I am fascinated with these historical days of liturgy and preparation.

This past December, I dove head first into Advent, and it was a very special time for me. It gave expression to my ache and longing, and it was the first time in my life that my heart felt prepared for Christmas. I want to do the same with Easter, to participate in Lent and observe Ash Wednesday and Holy Week, but I am not schooled in these things. I have a very "low church" evangelical background; I know about the four spiritual laws and getting saved and believers baptism, but I get lost in lectionaries and the Book of Common Prayer.

I have grown up celebrating Christmas and Easter; these days are always a big deal. But the problem with my depressive tendencies is that the celebrations always sneak up on me, and my joy at their occurrence usually feels fake. All of a sudden, it is Easter, and I should be excited about the resurrection, but instead I am sleepy because I got up early and I'm uncomfortable because I'm wearing a dress and feel fat. I don't feel prepared, nor do I feel happy, and then all of a sudden the day is past and I am stuck waiting for another year to bring me joy, another Easter to teach me about resurrection.

These celebration days are good and necessary, but my heart also needs to observe the somber ones. I need a lot of days where it is okay and necessary to be sad. Days in which the selfishness in my heart and the despondency I feel toward life are things I am encouraged to ponder, offering them to a God who understands that I am but dust. I long for ashes on my forehead, moments of silence, and a table of bread and wine symbolizing body and blood.  These somber days prepare me for the celebrations; I can't fully engage in the joyous times without permission and directives for lament.

I love the idea of forty days of preparation for Easter, a time which begin with ashes, a reminder of our finitude. It is a time to be mindful and repentant, turning our hearts toward love and forgiveness. I can (and should) create my own traditions, but following in step with those before me is like falling into a natural rhythm, a calendar created long before my time by men and woman far more ingenious than me.

I feel very aware of my own brokenness these days, aware of all the things that control me and steal my soul little by little. Too much social media, too many anxious thoughts, too much jealousy and bitterness and anger. However, this is also the first time in my life when I have been firmly convinced that God.is.good. An awareness of who I really am doesn't really scare me anymore. I know God isn't dangling my sin in front of me, demanding penance. He isn't calling me to a Lenten fast to prove my worth to him. Instead, he offers me freedom. And it has felt good to look inside my heart, see both the good and the bad, and then invite Jesus in to help me clean things up.

My goal for this Lenten season is to be more mindful. To ask myself why I am checking Facebook or Twitter, to pay attention to my thoughts, to focus my mind and actions outward rather than inward. I am reading more, and I am praying more, and I'm trying to sit in silence more. It's a time to breathe in the heaviness of life and recognize that it is but a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow. I want to savor these days of death and reflection, lest I miss the joy of resurrection.