Friends, Lent me your ears. ****Here we are again, staring down the long and lean tunnel of Lent. Ash Wednesday is almost done and dusted. Forty days of solemn sacrifice, pious proclamations, and the occasional guilty glance at a forbidden bar of chocolate? This is the season where we decide whether to give something up (sugar, screens, sarcasm—good luck with that) or take something on (prayer, fasting, generosity, or... actually reading all those forwards on your social media, from your geriatric classmates? Good luck with that last one. Those guys seem to have nothing else to do except forward forwards!). We convince ourselves that these acts of devotion will rewire our neural pathways and miraculously turn us into saints—or at least into slightly better versions of ourselves.
Just in case we were wondering how all our current events turn out, history - spoiler alert - has already given us a preview. That first Easter morning, when Jerusalem was holding its breath, it was the women who acted. While the male disciples were cowering behind locked doors, these faithful women marched to the tomb. And guess what? They were the first to hear the news that flipped the script of history: Love wins. Truth triumphs. Death doesn’t get the last word. And Caesar, with all his pomp and power, is strutting about in his imperial birthday suit, while the Empire turns rotten from the inside. The meek, it turns out, really do inherit the earth.
Years ago, when anger unleashed through emotional and verbal violence was my norm, and I was slow-crawling my way into the world of personal change, peace studies, and nonviolent social change, I received some wise advice: “If you hope to advance justice, love, truth, mercy, and peace (Psalm 85:10), stop asking yourself, ‘Was I effective today?’”
If Easter morning was the big reveal, does that mean we just sit back and watch reruns? Hardly. This is the long game, friends. The work of faith, of justice, of building community where love reigns; is not for sprinters. It’s a marathon - but without the energy gels, comfy sneakers, or a cheering crowd. Martin Luther King Jr. called it “generational work.” Results don’t come overnight. The question is not “Did we fix everything today?” but “Were we faithful today?” If you can answer yes to that more often than not, you are on the right track.
The moral arc of the universe has quite the flair for the dramatic - it takes its sweet time, meandering like the Israelites in the wilderness, pausing for golden calf detours, the occasional flaring up like a glorious aurora borealis, but usually seeming to moonwalk backward too. For most of us, the change inside us, and around us, barely crawls forward, as if time itself has taken a coffee break. But fear not! In the grand choreography of history, justice still leads the dance. The prophets weren’t wasting their breath, and God’s kingdom isn’t running behind schedule - it’s just operating on His divine time, which, let’s be honest, has never been particularly rushed - quite unlike busy us! So, while the arc may look more like a toddler’s first wobbly attempt at colouring a rainbow, rest assured: it’s still heading toward justice and peace (with sincere apologies to Dr. MLK).
The Serenity Prayer, Lent Edition
We live in an era where oversized egos with undersized consciences run the show. Billionaires, buffoons, and bullies seem to be doing just fine, while those working for love and justice often feel like Sisyphus, condemned to endlessly roll a boulder uphill, or else lie crushed under it. The temptation to throw in the towel - or at least throw it at someone, as I sometimes feel - is real. But let’s not give them even that little victory.
This is where the wisdom of A.J. Muste comes in. He was one of those quiet revolutionaries, the kind history often forgets but heaven remembers. He reminded us that the first rule of resisting Empire is this: Don’t let them steal your soul.
So, where’s that big takeaway for Ash Wednesday, you ask? Well, don’t just sit there staring into the mirror at that blurry crucifix of ashes smeared upon your forehead, wondering what might have been.
Do something - something small, something bright. Today. Every day! Something that pushes back against the darkness, though it seems to rush back in, darker and thicker than before. (Oh yes, that’s a Sisyphus-thing too!) One act of love, one act of kindness, one moment of courage. Every day! And you’re right, it won’t solve everything. But it will remind you of Who you are! And that, my friends, is how we burn bright, and bring beauty out of ashes. Trust me, this is our ‘long obedience in the same direction’. (Eugene Peterson)
By your Word I can see where I’m going; your Word throws a beam of light on my dark path. I’ve committed myself to that path and I’ll never turn back from walking it. (Psalm 119:105, MSG)