There are plenty of things that are pretty black and white for me.
All diets can include daily servings of ice cream
Baseball over hockey
“Thou shalt take naps” is the 11th Commandment
One that I wish were but it just isn’t is when to be still and when to move. We’ve all been there. The last 24 hours have reminded me that it’s not simple.
Last night a friend asked for prayer. In my efforts to pray scripture over them, Exodus 14:14 spilled out.
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.
Based on the need, this seemed like an honorable reply for prayer.
This morning while waiting in the green room at church between worship sets, I resumed reading this book:
In describing a lifechanging conversation with a longtime friend, Chacour acknowledged the grayness of being still.
Here was that old question that had troubled me so long: As a Christian do you speak out against the actions of your enemies-or do you allow them to crush the life out of you? So many seemed to think that submitting to humiliation was the only Christian alternative. Should you not, sometimes, be stinging and preserving like salt?
Old question. So many people have answered it in ways that we admire, question, or scratch our head. If only it were black and white.
Here’s my answering history. Sometimes I’ve been still successfully; sometimes I’ve sat still too long. Sometimes I’ve moved timely; sometimes I’ve moved too quickly.
It feels like I’m constantly learning the lesson much like engaging traffic lights.
“Good Lord (not really a prayer). When is this light ever going to turn green?”
“I’m sorry (sort of a prayer). I was looking at my phone.”
If I were in charge, the traffic light of being still would have three different colors from the traditional ones.
Black = “You’ll regret moving, so don’t.”
Gray = “Have some ice cream, and chill.”
White = “Floor it!”
Good Lord (this is a prayer), thank you for fighting for me…and forgiving me when I don’t let you.
A few weeks ago I decided to find a book about Lent. I’ve read articles about Lent, but I don’t recall reading a book about it. My search led me exactly to what I was looking for.
I found that Esau McCaulley and I share two things: we grew up in Alabama, and our church upbringing didn’t include Lent. Kindred spirits. I’ll have to research to see if he roots for the right football team.
I knew I was reading the right selection when he ended his introduction with these two sentences:
What follows is an attempt to point out the things I’ve seen along the way. It is not just an explanation of Lent but an invitation to experience it, a chance to meet our risen Lord who always runs just ahead of us, beckoning us forward.
Only four chapters long, the book is manageable, ideal before and throughout Lent’s forty days. For those looking for the how’s of Lent, chapter two covers seven rituals of Lent. For those questioning the place and value of rituals, chapter three walks through the prayers and scriptures of Lent.
Ritual is both a means of spiritual formation (we learn through repetition) and an encounter (God meets us in the act of worship and praise in the liturgy)…we do not outgrow God. We never arrive at a place where we are able to “take it from here.”
The final chapter is a beautiful walk through Holy Week. Whether you grew up fully aware of Holy Week or it’s a new journey for you, McCaulley encourages embracing the freedom found in the repentance and renewal of each day and its reflection.
As it is the end of Holy Saturday, here’s one reflection about this day:
At this point in the Gospel story, there is no work left for the disciples to do. There are no more great deeds to perform. All that remains is the waiting. Holy Saturday reminds us-as the Sabbath itself does-that for all our activity, our hope is not in the things we accomplish.
John Gregory 