Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

My exposure to the church calendar has been gradual.

I've been a church-goer for just over half my life. For most of that time I thought the church calendar consisted of Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, Mother's Day, and Baptist Men's Day, and not necessarily in that order. Before I became a regular church-goer I don't remember ever going to church on Christmas, and Easter was just a reason for someone to give me a new polyester suit, stand me in front of their azaleas, take my photo, and then hide eggs and make me find them. Thankfully I grew out of that and came to know the real joy of Easter, and then a few years later one of my pastors introduced the idea of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday commemorations. I began to spend Christmases in church, and then in the year of our church sabbatical, I discovered Advent.

This year I add Lent to the list. Tonight, for the first time ever, I attended an Ash Wednesday service.

Pastor John shared from Joel 2.1-2, 12-17, Matthew 6.1-5, and Psalm 51. John challenged me to evaluate the state of my heart. Is it hard, covered with scar tissue from the hurts of the world, not allowing love to come in or to flow out? Is it broken by those who should have loved me well but have abandoned me? Is it fearful, asking the dreaded "what if" questions of life? Is it restless, searching for something more for fulfillment? He reminded me that the state of my heart is what matters to God, not the sacrifices I make or the good deeds I do. He challenged me, like Joel, to rend my heart and not my garment, putting my heart on the altar for Lent instead of simply setting aside some pleasure for a season as a token of tradition.

So what am I giving up for Lent? That's not really any of your business, but I will share with you that for the next forty days I plan to read and blog Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation.

I don't really consider myself a contemplative. I'm generally a quiet person and that sometimes evokes impressions like "still waters run deep," but I'm here to tell you, that ain't necessarily so. If I don't say much, it isn't because I can't think of anything to say as much as what I'm thinking isn't worth saying. It's not often that I'm pondering the great questions of the universe or evaluating the state of my heart. That's hard work and much too intimate. Better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid than to open it and prove that you are, right?

There are thirty-nine chapters in New Seeds of Contemplation. I plan to read one on each fast day of Lent and then post some thoughts and impressions. I'm hoping I haven't bitten off more than I can chew. We shall see. Since I've already told you how uncontemplative I am, I have no idea what form these posts will take. I expect they will evolve along with whatever contemplative skills I pick up along the way. I look forward to the attempt.