Second Sunday in Lent: Listening for Love
“Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul.”
Our house was one of only two houses at the end of a long gravel road off Route 252 in Media, Pennsylvania. I was in first grade when we moved to the stucco farmhouse on Timberlake Drive. It was magical. There wasn’t a neighborhood, so the woods, lake, and fields were my friends. They taught me to listen. I often hear people talk about childhood friends who lived next door or across the street, but that was not a thing for my siblings and me. It was us, our imaginations, and one older couple, the Smiths, whom we loved to visit; we sat in their big fancy chairs looking out over their English-style yard, watching the geese float on the lake. I would have had it no other way. We didn’t lack for childhood friends; however, we just had to wait for our weekend visits to Eddystone, where my grandparents lived. We found a whole clan of kids our ages on Eddystone Ave. We played outside and shuffled between our houses from morning till night. Maureen lived a few houses down; she was my best buddy.
We all have moments that mark a point of self-awareness in our lives. Those situations where we learn something about ourselves that cannot be ignored. I had one of those moments at Maureen’s house. One summer day, while playing in the playroom at her house, I noticed a small figurine of a cat toppled over in the pile of toys. I thought it was so cute. Cream-colored, with little black eyes. I grabbed it to take a look. My insides churned with conflict. I wanted that cat. My mind began to spin out a few narratives in my head about how I could “accidentally” take it and “not really realize I had it,” and “Oh, well. I am sure she doesn’t even care, it’s such a small toy,” and “If she asks about it, "‘I’ll check my pockets.’”
She never asked. I never said anything.
It always plagued me because it was an ordinary experience in my life that became significant: I rationalized something I knew was wrong. My brain cooperated with me. I stole something from a friend. I will never forget that day. It was a reckoning for me: I am capable of stealing.
Many years have passed since that moment, and I still have that cat figurine as a memento, a reminder that I am capable of choices I am utterly opposed to. But my understanding of sin and temptation has far more dimensions today than in those days; it all seemed so black and white. Don’t drink. Don’t steal. Don’t smoke. Don’t cuss. I wish it were that basic. Self-control would be the only requirement.
What ruins our lives and the lives of others are desires that go sideways. Dark impulses are tucked into the center of our human selves. This internal war is so perfectly displayed in the double nature of Gollum in The Lord of the Rings. Back and forth between light and darkness.
We are besieged by the magnetic power of the self.
Though subtle most days, our default posture is to be our own authority, to get our way, to be the smart one in the conversation, to acquire sweeping and ongoing affirmation, to be the one in control, and to show up better than so-and-so, and so-and-so. The self motivates almost every impulse we have.
Self-control doesn’t really work with this problem.
Most of the time, we are completely unaware of our impulses to command our lives (and the lives of others, for that matter!), and the Enemy finds all kinds of opportunity there.
“Did God really say you would die?” the Serpent calmly questioned Eve.
“You will not surely die, [that’s silly]. God knows that when you eat of the tree’s fruit, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil…you’ll be as strong and wise as him. You’ll exceed him, actually. You won’t need him because you will have all the divine qualities, and the wisdom and judgment he has, all within yourself…” (my words based on the Hebrew lexicon and the entire theme in Scripture).
This was Satan’s tactic with Jesus in the desert at the start of his ministry, too. The temptation of power for the sake of power.
“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. ‘All this I will give you,’ he said, ‘if you will bow down and worship me’” (Matthew 4).
Sounds familiar. The message of consumerism is coming at us all day, every day: “All this I will give you…” Every day, we race, shove, pant, and strive to be noticed. To be envied. To be better. To have more. To make a name for ourselves. It starts with stealing a small toy and morphs into a natural impulse. What the Enemy wants is for us to become so preoccupied with ourselves, our comfort, our stuff, our way, our safety, that we detach from Jesus and look to ourselves. And when we detach from him, we wander from his influence. Sadly, we begin to reflect our kingdom instead of his. Exhausted, we forget who we were made to be. Oh to be made new…
The love of God reshapes us; we become soft, humble, selfless, eager to do good, willing to apologize, generous, and honest…
Lent is a time listen for our strongholds
The phrase Frederick Buechner uses is invitational, “Listen to your life.” Our habits reveal something. What we laugh at, where we spend our time, what makes us irritable, where our money goes. Likewise, naming our insecurities and fears is essential. We live out our days impulsively trying to solve the discomfort they trigger, and mostly, in ways that don’t lead to peace. Instead, they leave us insatiable, and empty. But what about sharing them with Jesus…moving toward him with our sincerity? What about bringing our vulnerable parts to him?
Lent is a time to stop for a minute. “God, I am tired. I feel lost and behind. What have I accomplished this year? I run ragged, trying to find a way to give my life meaning. But you see me, you love me, and you have a different way.”
Tim Keller writes in his book, Jesus the King, that we easily get it backwards. We think God is here to orbit around us. But freedom from ourselves comes when we understand that we are meant to orbit around him. He is in the center; we can take the pressure off.
“Let my soul be at rest again,
for the Lord has been good to me.
He has saved me from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling.
And so I walk in the Lord’s presence
as I live here on earth!”
Lent orients us, my friends. We see ourselves, we name and confess our ongoing compulsion to control our own lives, to trust only ourselves, to be in control…we say it honestly…”I have no idea how NOT to be this way. I need you to change me from the inside. Impart your humility and graciousness to me, Lord. Fill me with your heart that loves without hesitation.”
We turn off the internal and external noise, and we listen for the words of God:
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26)
And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit (II Corinthians 3:18).
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light (Matthew 11:28-30).
Transformation is possible because of God’s faithful work. As we cooperate with him, in the quiet, we will be reminded of who we are meant to be. Not what the culture tells us, but what the upside-down Kingdom is about. Transformation reflects the goodness of God. It is a threat to the Enemy because he doesn’t want us to be a contrast to the raging society we live in; he wants us to look exactly like it.
Lent is a time sit in the influence of the Spirit.
The more influenced we are by the Spirit, the more others experience his goodness through us. As Paul writes, “Your body is the Temple.” This is not about exercise, eating right, or not smoking. The Spirit of God lives in us. Practicing his presence, meditating on his words and thoughts, inviting him to affect us and direct us with his love, cooperating with him in the redemption of this mess down here…this is who we are. C.S Lewis said it simply, “Every Christian is to become a little Christ.” The impulse to care for a person who received bad news, that’s the Spirit of God in you. Those wise words that come to you as you sit with someone who is spinning in confusion, that is the Spirit of God cooperating with you. Sending money to a friend who has come upon financial stress…that is the Spirit of God prompting you. It’s not magic. It’s relationship. We aren’t puppets, but we are conduits.
God is creative and personal. We lose our way, our motives go sideways, we lash out, we are greedy, we mistreat people, we steal someone’s cat figurine…and only when we return to the One who made us and designed us will we be changed.
Lent calls us to listen and to be with him. To cease all the striving and get back into his orbit. His orbit brings light in darkness, death to life, joy in the middle of sorrow, beauty from ashes, and hope where we thought there was none.
It begins with death, dying to ourselves, and it ends with resurrection and the renewal of our calling and purpose. I appreciate Marilyn McEntyre, she says it like this,
Our love for one another is fragmented and faulty, but it is where the love of Christ is made most visible and accessible (Christ, My Companion).
We move toward Jesus in Lent. He calls us to receive.
Lent is a time to receive the love of Jesus.
The part of this story we miss most is the full, unthwarted love of God. It’s far too difficult for us to imagine this pure love. It is even more arresting when we understand it in light of our selfishness. We bring him our sideways selves, we sit in the influence of his Spirit, and we begin to experience the love of God in a new way. Let this day tune you into his love. That last week of Jesus’s life, when everything went dark, betrayed by his closest friends, abused by those in power with no accountability…he was utterly committed to Love. Not love based on accomplishment, economic status, theological intelligence, or even behavior management skills—this love is unconditional. And once we listen for it, sit in it, learn to trust it, we will be changed by it.
“Then he added, ‘Pay close attention to what you hear. The closer you listen, the more understanding you will be given—and you will receive even more. To those who listen to my teaching, more understanding will be given.’”
Prayer:
Lord, Jesus. My impulses are impossible to manage. I don’t even know the extent to which I am driven by the desires of the self. I don’t want to be that way. And I know your resurrection makes transformation possible. Sitting quietly in your presence is tough. I am distracted, things come up that make me uncomfortable. Help me be still and know that you are God, and that your love changes me. Thank you for being patient and committed to make me more like you.