There it is. The truth in all it’s bashed up, ugly glory. I. Broke. Lent. No excuses, no deep, long stories about the deed. It’s enough for you to know that my Lenten promise has been broken.
Quaking, I’ll write more. I’ll tell you about the dark undoing of the past month and maybe longer. I’ll confess it all because I have to start clean. Since I don’t have someone in real life to confide in, I’ll make my plea here; knowing that as I put font to these thoughts, God already knew. He already provided. It’s already done. But I must be honest about it. Because if nothing else, I’m an honest sinner, in desperate need of a faithful Savior.
I made this lent promise in the heat of the moment – a human reaction to my feelings of disappointment in my friends’ inability or unwillingness to give up something for lent. (Confessions 1 and 2) It was sinful to make such a commitment. Not having true, sacrificial willingness in my heart, instead, promising out of a place of unbelief and judgement. What is it about us humans that makes us believe we are the judges of others? What gives us the right to think that we know best for others, or that we are able to determine the path one should go? What drives us to look at someone and see; not what they are, but what we see. How can we look at a person and view faults alone or success alone? What makes us this way? I digress. I was judging them and their true devotion to Christ in their choice of Lenten sacrifice. Even saying that, I roll my own eyes at myself. Really sinful. Yet, I did it.
Confession Number 3: Once I had made the commitment, I sat with it a bit, and then thought I’d “reveal” my commitment when talking to others. First, my family. Again, in judgement, when my own husband and children decided to give up (or not give up) their sacrifices, I made judgements, calling their Lenten commitments “weak” and “not painful enough”. Wow, I’m a slow learner. I should have seen my own sin then, but I guess the plank in my eye was so big, that I just kept on. Still, I went, full bore into it, judging and talking; “rebuking” and “teaching”. I should have seen it when there were those who said they couldn’t/didn’t want to sacrifice anything. But I was blind.
In my talking, it was suggested that I give something else up. That I needed that phone to work, communicate with the children’s school, the doctors, and other important people in my life. Yes, those things were true, I agreed; but reasoned that 20 years ago, 35 years ago, I had no cell phone and neither did my parents or anyone else I knew; and we all survived. I declared that I had a “house phone” that was never used. It sits on a shelf, ringer turned off and used only in emergency situations. The house phone would serve as the line of communication for me in the coming weeks. Thinking about these people’s efforts to reason with me, I felt resentful that two very important people in my life tried to persuade me to choose something else to give up for lent. I was angry that they weren’t supportive, and I was disappointed in their own preferences of convenience over my Lenten commitment. I was going to keep the lent promise to “show” them. (Confession number 4 – that was a sinful attitude). Being a bit more distant from the situation now, I can confess my resentment and tell you that my disappointment has grown from because they didn’t support me to why didn’t either one of them tell me that it was sin? Why didn’t they tell me that I was doing wrong – in those words – and just allow me to confess it then? Perhaps they didn’t see it. Now I confess (#5) that my disappointment in them was because I depend on them to lead me, and I do not seek first the Kingdom of God. I was not looking at Jesus first – and making my sacrifice to Him. I was looking for a way to prove my point. Ugh. Why am I so stubborn? (Confession 6? Yes. It should be.)
My entire life, I have been in search of something in one way or another, and I have always been good at trying all the wrong things before I find the right one. This Lenten season shouldn’t be any different, but I expected it to be. You see, last lent, I was numb. I was just staggering through the death of a friend, and I was not really feeling much of anything; and I didn’t follow any of my normal Lenten traditions. So, this year, I thought I’d be better at it. I planned to be so successful at organizing myself and getting my family, self, and faith back on track; but of course, we all know what happens when I make plans – God laughs. I don’t think He laughed at me in a bad way, but I’m sure He was at least shaking His head knowing that I’d be sitting here, typing confessions about how I’ve broken my lent promise. Because He knew I was going to break it before I did.
Confession #6, I had more confidence in myself than anyone else – even Jesus. In my “sacrificial announcement”, I felt bold. I just knew that I could give up my phone with zero effort. After all, my phone is just another device I have been using to make my life easier. It isn’t something I need like “some people”. I felt I could prove to my naysayers that I can live without it, with minimal effort. And to tell you the truth, I could. But I took that statement, or fact and twisted it into self-righteous proclaimations. I made legitimate statements, such as, “I can become more present when I’m with someone since I don’t have a phone buzzing at me.”, and, “Other people cannot interrupt me when I’m in a meeting or visiting, because there isn’t a phone around.”, or, “My time with people, in their presence becomes more sacred.” Oh my gosh! What in the world was I thinking? I am so lucky blessed – and God is so merciful – that I wasn’t stricken by lightning right then. Did you see confession #7 in there? Not only was my hope, faith, trust, devotion and thus, confidence not in the Lord but in myself; I again had such a self-righteous attitude, and I twisted Biblical principles into my own sin-sick idea of right.
On through the month I went, doing this thing and that (being a Martha, not a Mary); proving to myself that I could survive without a cellphone. I could and I would, and it was all because of my efforts and my strong will. Confession #8. Wow. That’s such a powerful one. All about me. All my doing. My efforts. Why couldn’t I see that this whole Lent thing is exactly polar to those thoughts? Lent is about the deficiency of my ability and the provision of salvation through Christ. It is not supposed to be an outward production of our ability to carry out our Lenten commitments or our own success or failure as Christians, which is pretty much what has become of my Lenten commitment. The Lenten commitment is supposed to be a sacrifice, an offering, a gift if you will, to God. To please Him, and an effort to remind myself that I am so limited, so small, so completely weak without Jesus. Yet, this Lenten commitment was not my sacrifice, offered holy unto God; it was a point to prove, a mission to accomplish, and had become an exercise in proving myself holier than thou.
At some point, I started to ponder these things. I began to hear that still, small voice that was teaching me what was happening. But I continued to ignore it. Problems of all sorts began to creep up, but I still had control over almost everything. Confession (or delusion) #9. Not obeying the Spirit. Just going on about my own way, purposes, plans, ideas. Just doing my thing. How grievous! I am so weak that I can’t even obey when I am being directly addressed about my sin. Yet, I don’t see it as that at the time, I see it as life.
Have you ever been in a situation where a leader isn’t able to get the attention of the people they are addressing? Like a teacher in a classroom or a parent? Most have various tools and methods of reaching their audience, so does the Lord. When we don’t see what’s happening, when we aren’t paying attention, He calls our name. When the Holy Spirit speaks to us and we don’t listen, God speaks to our sin. He speaks louder and louder until we hear. What that looks like is an individual thing. Just like a teacher uses differentiation or a parent speaks to each child differently; God our Father, knows what works for each of us as people. So, He knew that I was not hearing, and He knew that I was not listening. Still, He didn’t quit and write me off. He continued to teach me, to speak to me, to call me out.
I needed truth. I needed wisdom and understanding. I needed to hear what God had to say about this. I needed someone to speak to me, to this situation. God knew that. I tried to read my Bible, but nothing sank in, no words made sense, nothing spoke to me through Scripture. I tried to speak with my pastor, but no connection was ever able to be made. He was not available; phone calls were missed; and I certainly wasn’t going to text or email a complicated situation like this. Finally, God hand-picked a messenger for me. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. Not by phone anyway. I hadn’t heard her voice in so long. Her calm, wise demeanor was comforting. Her drawl, peaceful. My southern mother took me to a place where I could hear the reality she was about to speak over me. When the Spirit led her, she spoke truth into my sin. She was unflinchingly honest, yet comfortingly compassionate. While she spoke, I felt the certainty of what she was saying. I knew that God was speaking to me through her, and I didn’t want to turn away. I didn’t want to miss a single bit of the wisdom she was imparting. I needed her truth, God’s truth. When our conversation was over, I realized what I needed to do. I made a commitment to do it, but this time, the commitment came from the correct place. A broken and contrite heart.
I needed God, I wanted Him, and the only way to satiate that desire was to get back into relationship with Him. The only way to get into a right relationship with God is to confess my sins and to admit how sinful and evil I had been. The only way out of the mess I had gotten myself into was through the deliberate act of confession and admission of my own imperfection. It was during this time that I could see how wrong I’d been, and how dismal my life really was. In 20 years of being in a new relationship with God, I had needed Him in many ways; yet, I had never needed Him the way I do now. Now, I see what I am, and I know that I am walking broken.
I began with reading Scripture, with prayer, with confession. To God, to those who are in authority over my life, and to those whom I am responsible for. I’ve prayed and tried to listen – I’m still listening because this isn’t over yet. I’m still amid the learning. I’m still, even as I type this, discovering things about myself, my attitude, my deficiency, my inability to get things right. I’m learning how flawed and imperfect I am, and I’ve never claimed to be anything close to perfect! I’m just more broken than I ever thought possible, and though I’m trying not to get stuck here; I’m just so wounded by my own guilt… there aren’t many words that can tell you how I feel. Unless you’ve found yourself in a similar situation, it’s difficult to put words into how much pain can come from being brought to Jesus’ feet and seen from a distance, the depth of your depravity. It’s just so heartbreaking.
Still, I continue to breathe, so I continue to serve and seek and cry out to God Most High for rescue. Easter is almost here. It’s Palm Sunday. Christ Is Risen, and He is able. Yet, I’m still struggling to change. I’m still trying to be transformed by His power, not mine. I’m still learning to let Him lead, and to seek FIRST the Kingdom of God. I’m learning to live again. I tell you all these things so that if you can learn from someone else’s mistakes, you could learn from this; and to be able to confess these sins I’ve committed against God; so that I can continue returning to a right relationship with Him. One could argue that God Himself will bring me into a right relationship, and I would not deny that. I would add, though, that part of His bringing me, is me being willing to come along. Because of my own free will, I must be responsible for my response to His invitation. This is that response.
Peace be with you. Hosanna in the highest!
Momma Rich's 