Even now

Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God. -Joel 2:12-13

Even now… what a beginning. Even now… No matter what, even now, return to me. That is pretty clear, isn’t it? God seeks our return now – even now.

We cannot fix ourselves, we cannot be transformed without God and without one another. Even now, it is never too late, return by journeying through the desert. We are to rend our hearts and not our garments, a task that is so much harder. It is easy to rip one’s own garment than it is to open our prickly hearts, yet our prickly hearts with all their flaws is what God wants. God already knows our hearts, so there is nothing to fear.
Let us journey together into the desert with Jesus and see what transpires and transforms.

May your Ash Wednesday and your Lent be blessed. May we journey well together, stumbling through the desert with our desert hearts exposed and ready for healing, even now.

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I Need Help (First Sunday of Lent)

“He used to remind us that the Holocaust did not begin with the building of crematoria, and Hitler did not come to power with tanks and guns; it all began with uttering evil words, with defamation, with language and propaganda.” Susannah Heschel, daughter of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, now of blessed memory.

In today’s Gospel and readings I see so many parallels to where we are today. For those among us who have some yearning to “make America great again.” Well, that may sound nice, but I can never figure out what we might actually go back to that would be so great. Greatness, if you ask me, can never be returned to, greatness – if it is to be – is found only by going forward. For others who may long for a greatness built upon justice, unity, and equality, other things can be read into today’s readings by understanding the risk of temptation – and avoiding temptation.

Jesus has been in the desert a long time in today’s reading – even if we are at the beginning of our own Lenten journey.  Maybe he is hangry! No, I’m not trying to be funny. He has been sleeping in the wilderness without the benefit of a nice tent, cozy sleeping bag, a water filtration device, and energy bars. Think about what this means. Not exactly a comfortable retreat to “get away from it all.” Quite the opposite!

Me, I love the desert, but boy oh boy,  I have no desire to stay out there for 40 days and nights! Yet that is exactly what Jesus did. And then he meets satan, the satanas – which means the tempter or evil one in general. Now Jesus must be so tired and hungry. The evil one makes three pitches which all center on Jesus

Desert heart

A prickly heart
beats inside a chest.
Thump thump thump,
the thrum of blood
coursing through veins,
like a river swollen with melting snow.

How sharp that heart appears,
pointed, angry, dangerous.
How dry and desiccated,
like something that might turn to dust
if you touched it, if you could touch it.

For the brave who might reach out,
even tentatively, with a gloved hand,
delicately probing the sharpened points.
Like tiny knives poised to cut
the one that comes close, they wait.

Tender fingers push them aside.
Gently, lovingly pressing into the flesh,
finding a moist treasure, supple within.
A hiding place for love,
encased by thorns,
freed by human hands and a heart.

 

Personal desert

I’m enjoying being off of Facebook for Lent, and spending my time on Instagram with one post per day; a photo and a mini-reflection. You will have to head over to my Instagram feed, or to my Facebook page (where my Instagram auto posts) to read my reflection for today. Essentially, I am thinking about Jesus instructing us to love our enemies.

Hardest. Thing. Ever.

I’ll gladly take a long walk with a heavy cross on my back than to do this. Yet, I try to constantly push myself to do so. I suck at it, by the way. Big time.

It occurs to me that part of the problem is my own lack of willingness to look at the enemy within. Of course I am well aware of that enemy, but my inner looking often results in things like my own defensiveness about myself, my shame, and my superhuman strength at avoiding and denial. I’m great at that stuff. Big time.

All of this is an invitation to me, a good deal of which is more clear this Lent because I am spending less time “talking” via Facebook. Painful is my awareness this Lent that the driest and most arid desert is often found deep within my own heart. Thus, the gifts of death and new life are made clear, but only if I am willing to keep going.

What does your inner search Please be assured of my prayers as we ply our way through deserts of our own making. God offers us so much more, but even for those of us who say we will follow, do we really?

The road ahead

The Judean desert. (Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.)

 

(Today’s post is a little bit of #tbt, also known as Throwback Thursday, or a day of looking back at something from the past. I have posted it before, although so long ago I forget when! It is a good reminder on our second day of Lent. May we all pray for one another.)

We all know where the pathways of our desert journey are leading, and annually many of us set out again, in search of change and transformation. The road ahead is difficult, but we press on, over and over again, following Jesus. Stepping into the wilderness, we proceed into a place that appears barren and lacking hope. Each day carries us into the wilds, the challenges, the struggles. Tempted again and again, we make our way to the Cross. There can be no resurrection without a crucifixion. And what sense would a crucifixion make if there were no resurrection? These questions stay with us, but for now, early in the pilgrimage, we place one foot before the other, praying for our souls and our very being to be at last made more whole in Christ.

This is the road ahead. Let us go forth, praying for one another.