Greatest Hits: Lent and Me are Friends

(from March 2005)

I've been using lenten meditation as a procrastination tool for the last few days. Not sure that is something I should confess, but there you have it. For my meditations, I have been using two things. First is the "Little Black Book" that Regis UM distributes every Lent. It contains six-minute meditations, this year coming from Mark's Gospel. Second is the Orbis collection called Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter. Both have been very helpful in thinking on the Passion and the Lenten season.

I went to Catholic College. Catholic traditions (especially Catholic Social Teaching) and the Catholic disposition toward meditation and quietude are hugely influential parts of my spiritual life. I know it is part of some protestant traditions to celebrate Lent, but it is not an advertised Baptist practice. I always feel a little sneaky during Lent, a little like I am doing something I am not "supposed" to do. However, I don't know of any Christian tradition that doesn't advocate meditation on Scripture, lamentation, supplication and repentance, so we're all in the same company here.

Lent is a quiet time . It isn't filled with the expectation that accompanies Advent: that is the beginning of the story. Right now we are waiting for the midpoint (and as the Lord tarries, we are not yet at the end), when we understand Passion, Crucifixion and examination of our own lives. Today, I read Henry Drummond's "Turning." Drummond says that when Peter is caught
the third time denying Christ, "...when a person is in the thick of his sin his last thought is to throw down his arms and repent. So Peter never thought of turning, but the Lord turned. And when Peter would rather have looked anywhere else than at the Lord, the Lord looked at Peter. This scarce-noticed fact is the only sermon needed to anyone who sins -- that the Lord turns first."

No Christian I know admits to being Paul -- we all admit to being Peter first (and I often exhibit shades of Thomas): we recognize and discuss, since these admissions are typically public, our everyday denials of God in sin and admit the imperfections of our characters. I wonder how many of us remember that single gesture Luke (my favorite Gospel writer) captures in 22:61: "The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." How many times each day does God look straight at us and we DON'T see? Peter saw, and (22:62) "wept bitterly." We see in Peter what we desperately wish for ourselves -- we wish to recognize our sin as it is happening. The remarkable thing about Peter's denials is that he is caught in a way that no one else is or, frankly, wishes to be...with the Lord physically standing right there. We are forced to imagine Jesus's heartbreak at that moment (because he is, for all our forgetfulness, human) and Peter's disappointment, for lack of a better term. Drummond reminds us of this moment and all that is encompassed in it.

Lord, give me awareness to know that you see my sin. Give me the presence of heart to know when you are looking at me.