An Ash Wednesday Beginning

It seems right to me that this blog will begin on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of a communal journey toward the cross, and the beginning of a season of individual repentance. Lent reminds us not of the universality of God's grace (an important truth, no doubt), but of the difficulty of the Christian life, which we so often want to make easy. Lent is a time to be reminded of some of the more difficult teachings of Jesus, to hear the challenging call that Jesus offers to anyone that might want to follow him:

If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison--your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters--yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. And if you do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.

But don't begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it? Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. They would say, "There's the person who started that building and couldn't afford to finish it!"

Or what king would go to war against another king without first sitting down with his counselors to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000 soldiers marching against him? And if he can't, he will send a delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far away. So you cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.

This is an awfully hard teaching, especially for those of us accustomed to measuring success by what and how much we accumulate. Lent offers an invitation to listen to these words again, to have ears to hear that we might actually receive life by denying ourselves the luxury that our culture so often calls success. The life of Jesus is a testimony that such denial doesn't mean a life devoid of laughter, feasting and joy, but rather a life where the decisions we make are touched by our love for and commitment to God. 

We demonstrate this love and commitment through words, but even more through our actions. Participation in the Lenten fast isn't an obligation, but an act of love. It's a reaching out to the one we love and declaration that he is more than food or drink or whatever other good thing we might deny ourselves for a time. When we do this, we are transformed because, best of all, God responds. As it turns out, he loves us too.