The great thing about the liturgical year is that it cycles around again and again, and you can always find new things in it. Sort of like reading the Bible through again and again, and finding a passage you could swear was never there before. God has a way of making things pop at opportune moments.
Today I read Moses's address to Israel just before his death, where he reminds them of their failure to enter the Promised Land because, in the NLT, "you refused to trust the Lord."
Isn't that interesting? We assume most of the time, I think, that lack of faith is involuntary, i.e., either you're convinced of something or you're not. But here, clearly, the Israelites had a choice. They could either trust God and cross the Jordan when He told them to, or they could refuse and sin.
I don't think the Lord is speaking, here, about the emotional sensation of fear. Emotions are often simply things that happen to us and out of our control (although our response to them sometimes moderates how often they occur). But the proper response to the sensation of fear, as well as whatever circumstance is triggering it, is to trust the Lord.
This might be, and perhaps usually is, an action we take. In Israel's case it would have been crossing the Jordan--or at least refusing to listen to the cowardly spies. In our case it might be something as big as changing jobs or moving (like, to Texas...) or as small as praying "Lord, I'm frightened and there's nothing I can do about the emotional sensation right now, but I trust You to direct events to glorify Your name. I would appreciate it if You would take away the thing that's frightening me, but that's up to You. Give me the grace to respond in a way that glorifies You."
Or, to put it in a much better way, "Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."
Lent comes around every year before Easter to remind us that we need the Gospel--not just for our initial salvation, but every day of our lives as we fail and fail again. We like to pretend we don't sin after salvation or that our sins are somehow minimal and don't need much repenting of. Lent reminds us that our sin held Christ on the cross. Like Moses reminded the Israelites about their past failure so that they would remember to trust the Lord in the future, Lent reminds us of our inability, in ourselves, to do anything righteous.
Lent is forty days of ashes, of remembering the disciples who hid. Lent is forty days of trying to remember what it was like when we didn't know that Easter was coming; all we had was trust.
Last year I wrote a poem about the whole thing, in response to a writing buddy who dared me to write a poem. I don't think it's very good, but here it is anyway, in case it helps someone. If you remember, Mary Magdalen was the first one to see the Lord after His resurrection.
Cheers,
Breanna
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| Caravaggio's interpretation of "Jesus is condemned to death before Pilate," the first station. Not sure where Pilate is; perhaps the painter is implying, subtly, with the perspective, that we are seeing this through Pilate's eyes. Sobering, yes? |
Isn't that interesting? We assume most of the time, I think, that lack of faith is involuntary, i.e., either you're convinced of something or you're not. But here, clearly, the Israelites had a choice. They could either trust God and cross the Jordan when He told them to, or they could refuse and sin.
I don't think the Lord is speaking, here, about the emotional sensation of fear. Emotions are often simply things that happen to us and out of our control (although our response to them sometimes moderates how often they occur). But the proper response to the sensation of fear, as well as whatever circumstance is triggering it, is to trust the Lord.
This might be, and perhaps usually is, an action we take. In Israel's case it would have been crossing the Jordan--or at least refusing to listen to the cowardly spies. In our case it might be something as big as changing jobs or moving (like, to Texas...) or as small as praying "Lord, I'm frightened and there's nothing I can do about the emotional sensation right now, but I trust You to direct events to glorify Your name. I would appreciate it if You would take away the thing that's frightening me, but that's up to You. Give me the grace to respond in a way that glorifies You."
Or, to put it in a much better way, "Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."
Lent comes around every year before Easter to remind us that we need the Gospel--not just for our initial salvation, but every day of our lives as we fail and fail again. We like to pretend we don't sin after salvation or that our sins are somehow minimal and don't need much repenting of. Lent reminds us that our sin held Christ on the cross. Like Moses reminded the Israelites about their past failure so that they would remember to trust the Lord in the future, Lent reminds us of our inability, in ourselves, to do anything righteous.
Lent is forty days of ashes, of remembering the disciples who hid. Lent is forty days of trying to remember what it was like when we didn't know that Easter was coming; all we had was trust.
Last year I wrote a poem about the whole thing, in response to a writing buddy who dared me to write a poem. I don't think it's very good, but here it is anyway, in case it helps someone. If you remember, Mary Magdalen was the first one to see the Lord after His resurrection.
Cheers,
Breanna
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