Parts Is Parts!

How is everyone doing this second week of Lent?

At least I think we’re in the second week.  I’ve kind of lost track of time.  As I mentioned in my last post, my Lenten journey began with spinal fusion surgery on Ash Wednesday.   Since then I’ve been struggling to keep my days and dates straight.  My inner calendar is all messed up.

Our church holds worship online, so that has been very helpful in keeping me on track.  Another thing I’m doing this year is using the book Journey to the Center by Fr. Thomas Keating as a daily devotional.  This book has turned out to be an excellent companion on my Lenten journey.

In many ways the 40 days (+ Sundays) of Lent echo the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness at the beginning of his ministry, and the 40 years the Israelites wandered in the wilderness on their way to the promised land.  Numbers are very important in the Bible.  For instance, the number 40 signifies completion.  At the end of his 40 days of testing and tempering, Jesus’ training was complete; he was ready to take up the mission for which he was born. This, of course, has implications for us.

Just prior to being driven into the wilderness, Jesus was baptized by John in the river Jordan.  Now, John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance, which is kind of puzzling:  why would Jesus – who was without sin – need to repent?  There isn’t agreement among scholars, but let me just put this forward.  When we think of repentance, we think it means to feel sorry for something we’ve done wrong.  That is only partially correct.

In the Bible, to repent means to turn around and go in the other direction.  It’s a complete reorientation of your life. Repentance means that you’ve been moving in the wrong direction, looking for happiness and fulfillment in the wrong places; moving further and further from God. 

Fr. Keating likens repentance to conversion, where your false self is stripped away and you are enabled to live an authentic, faith-filled life.

Now, we don’t know what happened to Jesus during the first 30 years of his life.  These are the quiet, hidden years.  But, I do know his life moved in a vastly different direction immediately after his baptism of repentance.

So, what does that mean for us?  I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the journey of Lent begins with a call to repentance.  It’s a wake-up call, a chance to take stock of our lives, and we need to hear it.  Especially those of us who think we’re doing just fine.

There was a woman I dearly loved in one of the congregations I served.  When I talked about repentance each Ash Wednesday, I noticed that she would always give me the ‘dog-eye.’  It kind of threw me at first, until one day I called her out for saying something which was frankly…racist.  She looked at me, smiled and then said “it’s ok pastor, I’ll tell God I’m sorry when I say my prayers tonight.”  It wasn’t the last bigoted statement I heard her make.  Was she sorry?  It’s not for me to say.  Was she repentant?  Not in the least.  It was clear that she thought she was doing just fine.  She was on cruise control.  She went to church every week.  Her faith was the same as it always had been.

With all due respect, everyone needs to repent.  God wants us to change and grow.  Lent is meant to be a journey of growth and we’re not supposed to be the same at the end of the journey.  But, admitting that “we’re not there yet” takes humility.  It can also be painful.

This year, God came up with a unique way to call me to repentance:  surgery.  Since my last surgery 13 months ago, things had been going well.  I really hadn’t changed my lifestyle; I hadn’t dieted or started that exercise program I talked about, but all in all, things were ok.  Then, two weeks before my final post-op exam, I felt something give in my spine.  It was downhill very quickly from there and the operation was scheduled.

I’d been through this surgery so many times before that I really didn’t give it much thought.  Or preparation.  I also didn’t listen carefully to what the doctor was telling me.  To make a long story a little less long, the doctor not only performed a new fusion, but he also took out all of my existing hardware and replaced it.  The reason?  My first fusions had been performed so long ago that the parts had become outdated and were incompatible with the new parts.  I guess parts are not parts! 

What I thought was going to be an easy surgery turned out to be the biggest and most painful of my life.  Though I don’t recommend it, pain can be a great teaching tool.  I’m grateful for all of the blessings in my life (especially my wife who is the world’s best caregiver).  Now that God has wiped the slate clean I have a fresh start and a shiny new spine.  But, I have to take care of it.  It can’t be business as usual unless I want this cycle to continue (and I don’t).  In a very real sense, I am being re-formed.

But this re-formation, repentance, conversion or whatever you want to call it extends beyond the physical.  I am being re-formed spiritually as well.  Sometimes, the only way I can get away from the pain is through contemplative prayer.  This usually happens in the middle of the night.  I have never experienced a richer prayer life and my prayer life is enriching my faith.  I am changing; I can feel it.  Repentance indeed.

If you’re unhappy with the direction your life’s going, if you’re tired of just putting band-aids on your problems and are looking for real healing, take repentance seriously.  Take this gift of Lent seriously.  Take God’s healing seriously.  God can replace all the old, incompatible parts that are holding you back from living an abundant life. It might hurt a bit at first, but trust me, it’s worth it.

Grace and peace,

Mark

p.s. We have two very good friends who were just diagnosed with Covid-19, so please continue to wear your masks!