Not so Fast: a Lesson for Lent

Ash Wednesday has come and gone, bringing in the Lenten season as our pastors gave us the solemn reminder that we are dust and to dust we will return. This season of repentance is a time to meditate on turning from our sin and remembering the forgiveness of God, who will certainly raise this dust on the last day.

This isn't my first Lent, but it is my first Lent after returning to the Lutheran Church. I've found, only a day into the season, that I am grappling with complex feelings and thoughts concerning my faith; however, this should come as no surprise given my history of doubt, despair, and fickleness. I cannot claim I am loyal or faithful, and I believe everyone who comes to know me beyond the mask I present to the general public is keenly aware that I am a man who wages constant war against himself.

As I was anticipating Lent, I had lofty inspirations to fast intensely and commit myself to stringent spiritual practices, and I know these desires come from seeing my Eastern Orthodox friends undertake extreme practices of bodily and spiritual discipline. I can admit that I wish I had their fervor and will to condemn my flesh; however, I can see where I have fallen into a terrible trap, a trap I know well from my time as a Reformed Baptist.

I have the terrible, human habit of trying to earn God's forgiveness, thinking that somehow I offer Him something that makes me worthy and deserving of His love. This issue of mine isn't unique to the Lenten season, but something that I continually grapple with. When I pray to God I find myself reaching for some wording that would impress Him and grant my prayer some special power. When I repent of my sins I try to create a gut-wrenching anguish over my sin that will merit God's forgiveness. When I read the Scriptures I feel that I have shown God I am putting in the hours and deserve His grace.

If I am brutally honest with myself and pause long enough to reflect on my innermost thoughts and feelings, it is apparent that I am a man of little faith, of little love for his neighbor, and even less love for God. I am unmistakably wicked as I rush mindlessly through my prayers in the morning or at night so I can check it off my "spiritual duties" to-do list. I am unmistakably wicked when I am confessing my sins during the liturgy and don't feel sorrow over them. I am unmistakably wicked when I partake in Holy Communion and feel some nagging thought of doubt over whether or not my Lord is truly and really present in it. I am unmistakably wicked when I write a blog post, a tweet, or a private message and believe that everyone who reads it will finally realize that I am the wise, sagely saint they need.

Do I even need to mention that as I write this I can see in myself the believe that my candidness in admitting these things makes me worthy of praise?

The fact, to me, is clear. I am wicked, even more so than what my scrupulous self-analysis can discern. In the slow moments, where I can take a break from the break-neck pace of life, I exam myself and see that the saying is true: 

"We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away."

I cannot be good enough. I cannot merit grace. I cannot fabricate faith I don't have. I can only rest in Christ according to the faith He has afforded me at this point in my walk with Him. Just as the ash on my forehead is meant to remind me that the wages of sin are death, which this body will succumb to, it is in the shape of a cross to point me to the One who has bathed me and made me clean in the waters of Holy Baptism. As the apostle Paul tells us:

"For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ."

and...

"There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit."

and...

"He who raised up the Lord Jesus will also raise us up with Jesus, and will present us with you."

That is the good news: Christ crucified for you.

Throughout this Lenten season, whether you fast or do not, whether you experience great strides in or sanctification or see yourself backslide into old, evil habits, take the time to examine yourself. See that you are sinful and know that you will one day die and return to the dust from which you came, but do not despair. Know that we have a mighty Savior, a Savior greater than all our sins and shortcomings. Know that the Lord, Jesus Christ, has washed you and covered you in His righteousness. Know that our Father in heaven is able to look at you and say, "This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." He says this not because of any merit or good on our part, but all for Christ's sake, the One who loved us and died for us so that we may know salvation.

With that, I am certain I have said more than enough.

Until next time!

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”