lent and such

Fast from emphasis on difference; feast on the unity of life.

Fast from apparent darkness; feast on the reality of life.

Fast from thoughts of illness; feast on the healing power of God.

Fast from words that pollute; feast on phrases that purify.

Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.

Fast from anger; feast on patience.

Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.

Fast from worry; feast on divine order.

Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation

Fast from negatives; feast on affirmatives.

Fast from unrelenting pressures; feast on unceasing prayer.

Fast from hostility; feast on forgiveness.

Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.

Fast from personal anxiety; feast on eternal truth.

Fast from discouragements; feast on hope.

Fast from facts that depress; feast on verities that uplift.

Fast from lethargy; feast on enthusiasm.

Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire.

Fast from shadows of sorrow; feast on the sunlight of serenity.

Fast from idle gossip; feast on purposeful silence.

Peter Millar. Our Hearts Still Sing

(via Kate at Daffodil's)

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I can’t really claim that I was raised in church, per se. Growing up, I bounced around from a Baptist church, to a sort of congregational community church, to the non-denominational church I attended in London, dabbling in the Church of Christ (the church in which I was baptized at age 19), to finally finding my new home at Solid Rock.

Fortunately though, I was absolutely raised with God. Many of my fondest memories growing up – and still to this day – are of long conversations with my dad about our faith. And I can remember being very small, deciding I wanted to memorize a bible passage and my mom showing me Psalm 100. Hell, I even wrote my college admissions essay about the two things in life I was sure of: my parents’ love and God’s love.

(Little could I have known then how important the concept of love would come to be for me. But more on that some other time…)

Going to school at Pepperdine was very important to me. I knew it would be a place for me to learn more about faith (the good and, unfortunately, the bad that comes of belief and following a certain “religion”) (please know that when I talk about these things, I consider “faith” and “religion” to be two distinct things – one being the basis from which the other sprang, respectively).

One thing I began to learn about and embrace at school in particular was Lent. Of all the churches we attended as I grew up, a Catholic church was never one of them. But friends I had made at school (hi, Brigette!) had grown up Catholic and knew a little more about the concept that I did. And so for what it was worth, I began to dabble with it.

I think my favorite Lenten season was senior year when Brigette and I were eating like idiots (read: about 600-800 calories a day and working out like fiends) and decided that rather than deprive ourselves of one more thing, we should probably focus on adding something to our lives in order to make it richer. And so it was the year of “Reverse Lent” in which we, after chapel on Friday, would trek to the cafeteria and eat a donut. And think about God. Or just donuts, I'm not sure.

Now though, I understand Lent more and what it really means. The little vices that come to control our daily lives that can pull us away from the focus on the important things in life. And, in particular, the most important thing in life.

Even if you’re not a Christian, it’s a nice concept, don’t you think?

And so this year, I am giving up two things.

1)    Frivolous spending - Because I could be doing so much more with that “fun money” than buying another item of clothing I don’t need. I could be taking my friends out to dinner, or giving it to the church I love so much, or – whoa – saving it. In any case, I need to be more conscious of where my money goes.

2)    Worry – And that one, ladies and gentlemen, is the big one. I am an Olympic caliber worrier and would be willing to challenge anyone to a worry-match. I worry so much about things I have no control over that it will keep me up at night, terrified that my God won’t take care of me and doom me to some fate I’ve concocted in my mind.

In the poem above, it says, “Fast from worry; feast on divine order.” And so that is my resolve this Lenten season. And I can safely say it’s going to be the hardest thing in my life to give up because I catch myself slipping into the mire of anxiety so easily and oftentimes without even realizing it.

So God, if you’re reading this (haha, I know, I know), I'm going to be needing Your help on this one. You know my heart better than I know it myself and You’re going to have to hold on to me extra tight these next few weeks. You know how I toil and spin and live decidedly unlike the lilies of the field.

I'm also going to have to unload some of this worry on You now, so You can hold onto it for me. How about I give You worry and trade for some faith… Sound like a plan? Good.

Here are a few things I’ll be putting in your hands:

The state/fate of that thing I’ve been worrying about for almost a year

My best friend’s sanity

My other best friend’s job situaiton

Another best friend’s health

The health of an acquaintance battling something shattering

Yet another best friend’s own struggle with anxiety

The safe travel and homecoming of someone’s new family member

The safety of a friend getting ready to deploy

The safety of all those already over there

More of my worry about someone’s relationship with someone else

And if I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.

As soon as I can too, because I don’t want to hold onto it any longer than I should for fear of it starting to fester in my mind.

(my mind is to worry what a warm, damp environment is to various unsavory things that grow and mutate… ew)

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So that’s the plan. I think it’s a rather good one at that.

What are you doing for Lent? What does it mean for you? I’d love to hear!