The choices we make (still) matter
As we begin the season of Lent, some of us may be contemplating a discipline to take up or an indulgence to put down during this annual spiritual journey. Examples run the gamut from abstaining from chocolate or alcohol to reading more scripture, giving charitably, or posting a daily photo or reflection on social media. These external actions can—at their best—incite internal recognition of Jesus’s deep and abiding love for us: a love so faithful that it also became sacrificial in the face of worldly powers.
Lenten disciplines are not exactly native to the Protestant tradition (though it depends which branch of the tree we’re talking about), but we rightfully lift them up every year as a possible pathway for spiritual growth. Unlike new year’s resolutions, where we rely on our own wills for self-improvement, Lenten disciplines are not aimed at measurable achievement. We choose to give up the sweet not to lose x number of pounds, but so we will be reminded of what Jesus gave up. We give charitably not because we believe that we will end poverty or racism or medical need in 40 days, but because we believe God will show up in the midst of it. We post to social media not for the likes and shares, but as a way to trace the divine in our own journeys.
Some might wonder at the act of taking up a discipline without a desired impact. For while we all hope that our disciplines might lead us closer to God or to peace or to our neighbor, they don’t always. Likely, many of us have been through times where our long-repeated prayers went unanswered, where our spiritual searching left us dry, where our habits of putting good into the world did not come back to us abundantly. In the face of those realities, many might ask, “why bother?”
This always reminds me of a quote from A. J. Muste, a social activist (and clergyman, for a time) who advocated for peace and nonviolence during the turbulent years from the First World War through his death in 1967. Near the end of his life, he kept a solitary daily peace vigil in front of the White House, protesting with a single lit candle. One night, a reporter asked him, “Mr. Muste, do you really think you are going to change the policies of this country by standing out here alone at night with a candle?” To which he responded: “Oh, I don’t do it to change the country. I do it so the country won’t change me.”
Our worship theme through Lent this year is “the choices we make.” Each week, we’ll look at a different choice (resolve, defiance, depth, grace, love) that the scriptures invite us to make. But the underpinning message—amidst all the world seems to be throwing at us right now—is that our choices still matter. We can still choose to walk in Christ’s footsteps: caring for the outcast, loving our enemy, finding community, and pointing to the almighty power of God. We choose these things not because they are easy or will be immediately (or ever!) successful by worldly standards, but so we are not swayed from Jesus’s deep and abiding love for us.
Whether or not we opt for a Lenten discipline this year, we’ll surely have choices to make over the next 40 days and beyond. As we face those decisions, may we remember that the choices we make (still) matter. And giving up that chocolate, spending time in prayer, or taking religiously to the socials might be just the ritual training we need for the choices yet to come.
Pastor Jen
