Lent

I grew up attending a Presbyterian church in my hometown, Casper, Wyoming. Each year our congregation observed the season of Lent. During the Sundays preceding Easter, we listened to Scripture readings and sermons that followed the movement of Jesus toward the cross. We were sometimes challenged to make sacrifices during Lent: give up a habit or take up a new one that might make us more faithful disciples. Lent was part of the rhythm of things in our church. It was just something that we did, something to which I never gave much thought.

As a teenager, I left the church and wandered about for several years. When I finally returned to the church during my senior year in high school, this time with an ardent and enthusiastic faith, it was not to the Presbyterian church of my childhood but to the local Church of God congregation. My parents and family were very supportive because of the change they observed in me. My relationship with God became personal and passionate, and for the first time in many years I began to dream big dreams for my life. For that I am, to this day, very grateful.

In those days, the Church of God did not observe Lent. Easter was, of course, a high day of the year. But Lent--those six or so weeks leading up to Easter--was never mentioned. There was no challenge to follow Jesus on the way to the cross, nor was there any mention of taking up special disciplines during the season. The pastor might preach on any theme of his choosing during those weeks and then--wham!!--it was Easter Sunday. (I should note that we did have a Maundy Thursday service on the Thursday before Easter, but other than that there was no special Lenten preparation, at least none that I can recall.)

I am incredibly grateful for the Church of God. The teachings and ministries of the Church of God have profoundly impacted my life. But I think we made a mistake back in those days when we ignored the season of Lent. I believe that the observance of Lent is especially important for we privileged Americans. Lent reminds us that the way of faith will be (not can be or might be, but will be) profoundly difficult at times. It reminds us that the faithfulness of Jesus required him to take up a cross; and it reminds us that we must take up our crosses, too, if we wish to follow him. It reminds us that the way of faith is a way of death and resurrection. We ourselves are crucified with Christ and raised to new life. There is no other way; true life comes only by way of death and resurrection. It reminds us that there is resistance to God's renewal work in our world, and we ourselves can expect to experience resistance from time to time.

Today, many Church of God congregations, including ours, observe Lent, which begins Ash Wednesday, February 25, and concludes on Easter Sunday morning, April 12. In fact, many congregations of every stripe are returning to Lenten observance. They are returning, I suspect, because they've come to believe that there's no real Easter celebration unless they've first tasted the bitterness of the cross.

I can't say that I look forward to Lent. It always challenges me in new ways, ways that I need, but perhaps don't want, to be challenged. Still, I am incredibly grateful for Lent. When you've felt the rough edges of a cross, the resurrection is all the more glorious.

Gloom, Despair and Agony...

Gloom, despair and agony on me I've been licking my wounds all week, but it is at last time. All right Steelers fans--Bill, Jim, and all the rest-- here goes (first, let me plug my nose): Even though you've won more super bowls than anybody should get to, even though you stole the game, even though... Oh, but I digress. What I meant to say was... Congratulations. That was a GREAT super bowl. Thanks for having some fun on with me on last week's blog and in conversations since....

And speaking of sports... Have you ever noticed that sports are often referred to negatively from pulpits? I've probably done it a few times, and I know I've heard it done in other settings. The critique often goes like this: "Folks, it's time to quit yelling and screaming for your favorite football team. We should be hollering and shouting for Jesus instead!" Or, another version that's not quite so harsh goes something like this: "All right, I'm glad we've been able to have some fun with our favorite sports team, but now it's time to get down to IMPORTANT stuff." And the important stuff is, of course, worship and Bible reading and witnessing and so forth.

Now, to be clear: I love worship and Bible reading and witnessing. And allow me also to say that I know that lots of folks don't care at all for sports, and I have no interest in trying to convert them to become sports lovers (except for my wife. Please honey, please?!?!). And, yes, I do believe that sports are often way overdone in America and are in some cases taken way too seriously.

But (you knew a 'but' was coming) I have a problem with the idea that sports (or a thousand other good things) are okay, but our religious practices are the really important things. Let's suppose for a moment that God is really interested in healing and renewing this world. That is, after all, what Jesus meant when he taught that the kingdom of God is near. God's will is breaking out on earth as it is in heaven; God is healing and renewing this world. What will that healing and renewal look like? Can you imagine that God's renewal of the world would include the renewal of our various forms of play--including the organized forms of play that we call sports? Could we imagine that where God's will is at work, sports might draw people together, give them an opportunity to celebrate the things their bodies can do, instill attitudes like teamwork, competition, unselfishness and sportsmanship? In other words, can we imagine that God's will being done on earth as in heaven might include the renewal of sport?

When we lived in Phoenix, Iobserved first-hand what happens in a city during a high season of sport. The Phoenix Suns went deep into the playoffs one year and we watched the way the city came together, rooted, rejoiced and, eventually, lamented together when the Suns were finally eliminated. I was struck, on a number of occasions, by what a positive thing it was for the whole city. Here was something that rich and poor, young and old, black and white and everything in between could come together and enjoy. It was, from my perspective, a good, wholesome enjoyment for much of the city.

Allow me to say again that, yes, sports are often twisted and perverted and fallen--like every other good thing can be twisted, perverted and fallen. There's no denying that. But I wonder if we Christians have sometimes criticized sports because we don't really believe that God is renewing this world. We imagine that what's really important is the religious stuff, forgetting that the goal of Jesus was for all heaven to break out--right here on earth. And if we're interested in all heaven breaking out on earth, won't we rejoice when sports approach their potential of drawing people together for wholesome, creative, extraordinary play?

Of course, we could rejoice a bit more if the Cardinals had won...

That's my two-bits for today.