FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT
Prayer of the Day: O God, rich in mercy, by the humiliation of your Son you lifted up this fallen world and rescued us from the hopelessness of death. Lead us into your light, that all our deeds may reflect your love, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
“All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ-” Ephesians 2:3-4.
I remember well listening to Rev. Nadia Boltz Webber speaking at a nationwide youth event for my Evangelical Lutheran Church in America in July of 2012. She told a moving story about her life journey from addiction, poor choices and unhealthy relationships to redemption through faith. It reminded me of the many “testimonies” I heard in the years of my evangelical youth given by persons who had undergone dramatic conversions. They typically highlighted the process of transition from a life of unbelief and sinfulness to faith and salvation. They all testified of a distinct “before” and “after” life in Christ. It is hard not to be impressed by such powerful witnesses to the transformative power of God’s Spirit in such people’s lives.
Still, I find it hard to identify with these stories on a personal level. That is because, for me, there was no “before.” There was no time when I was “alienated from the life of God” and “abandoned….to licentiousness, greedy to practice every kind of impurity.” Ephesians 4:18-19. Child of the 60s and 70s though I was, I never did “sex, drugs and rock and roll.” I was what most would call a “straight arrow.” To be sure, there were times in my life, particularly my early teenage years, when faith, worship and prayer seemed less relevant. Nevertheless, if you had asked me at any point during those times whether I believed in God, trusted Jesus or identified as a Christian, my answer would have been an unqualified yes. There was never a time when I was not a believer, though, to be sure, there were times when I did (and do) not act that way. In sum, the totality of my life has been lived in the “after.”
I want to make it perfectly clear that I do not regard myself any less sinful than Rev. Boltz-Webber or any of the other testifying believers I have heard over the years. My sins are every bit as wicked as theirs. They are just less interesting. My life does not lend itself to dramatic testimony. I have nothing in the way of trauma of which to tell. I grew up in a stable home with two happily married parents. I was not abused as a child or young adult. I have my own very good marriage with three well adjusted and successful adult children. Throughout all of this, I have been blessed to be part of communities of faith that have nurtured and sustained me and my family. Make no mistake, I am profoundly grateful for these undeserved graces-and that is exactly what they are. I do not envy anyone’s “before.” Still, I cannot imagine this “testimony” of mine holding the attention of a stadium filled with teenagers. Who wants to listen to true confessions of laziness, envy, selfishness, carelessness and ungratefulness?
I find it much easier to identify with the children of Israel in our lesson from the Hebrew scriptures than with the Ephesian converts. Like me, they knew themselves as descendants of Abraham and Sarah from as far back as they could remember. Just as they followed Moses imperfectly, sometimes fearfully, often resentfully with plenty of doubts and questionings, so I have somehow managed, however imperfectly, to follow Jesus. Just as the people of Israel needed prodding, pushing, cajoling and a strong measure of “though love” to keep them on course to the Promised Land, so I have needed the discipline of loving parents, dedicated teachers and faithful pastors to show me the way of Jesus and restrain my most destructive impulses. I may be one of the ninety-nine sheep that did not stray. But that is due entirely to the tireless efforts of the Good Shepherd, not any inherent virtue of my own. By grace I have been saved from all that might have been, just as the strays have been saved from what was. Do not ask me why some of us feel the Shepherd’s rod reeling us back into the fold while others feel it barring us from wandering away. That is a matter well above my pay grade.
I think that those of us who have never known a “before” have a particular need for Lenten discipline. That is because, for us, the “before” is so well hidden within our supposed “after.” Because we lead outwardly respectable lives, it is harder to see the many ways in which “the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient” is wreaking havoc and destruction in and through us. We need to be reminded that our addictions to wealth and privilege are as evil and more destructive than addiction to drugs and alcohol. We need a reminder that cruelty, dishonesty, selfishness and envy are no less sinful merely because they manage to stay on the near side of the law. Jesus came “not to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:17. Until we can recognize ourselves as sinners, we cannot hear his gracious call to discipleship.
Here is a Lenten poem by Lawrence Rhu inviting just such self reflection.
Lenten Confessional
Morning again made promises it broke
though foolish hope had led us to expect
something somewhat different when we woke.
Now news reports from far and near reflect
the shaking image of another day,
and seven deadly sins seem to control
the better part of everybody’s soul.
But what made hope plate golden common clay?
Start with yourself, like the wise moralist,
and detail the disasters of your ways;
then, after you’ve compiled a nice long list,
turn to the errors that our earth displays;
if you still find good reason to express
the glowing void that stalks your skipping heart
and finds its likeness in the supermart,
play prophet, only after you confess.
Regard the riot of your furious blood,
its circuiting and surge at such swift pace
that hectic rhythms rock your simple head
and bring bright colors to your civil face.
Why here’s an animal who could make war,
who might not even pause at rape or pillage,
cruel tortures or the burning of a village,
the daily news you properly deplore.
And yet, enraged, you lavishly complain
of wrongs that centuries have failed to right
while torrid humors cause each fluent vein
and spawn, in all that foment, fierce insight:
perhaps it’s evil bothers us, or pain,
or maybe the way we try to counter it
and manage such a pleasant counterfeit
we’re loosely labelled as the so-called sane.
But when you see the castaway and odd,
who nightly prowl the brilliant thoroughfare
in lonesome discourse with the vagrant crowd,
you slip past fast, then, from a distance, stare.
You hear them rant their lectures to the dark,
and at your stomach’s fretful squirm of doubt,
blush lest the crazed eyes’ flicker pick you out.
You sense a kinsman in a madman’s lark.
Maybe you ought to join that brotherhood
and finally reckon with the wretch you’ve well
concealed, and simply yielding to the blood,
allow the rapid pulse to rage and swell
and flood. You can play the prophet to the air.
Since Brother Francis even deemed the words
of God and Gospel message for the birds,
you’ve a likely soul to follow, if you care.
Or since you’ve looked within awhile and seen
a little, but enough, you should perhaps
now offer thanks and vow to curb your spleen.
Accept the blessing of a moment’s lapse
when hints and glimpses undermine all cant.
We’ll someday learn what mercy’s up against.
We’ll suffer gladly someday when we’ve sensed
the terrible pardon clear-eyed love can grant.
Source: Poetry, February 1975. Lawrence Rhu is the Todd Professor of the Italian Renaissance emeritus at the University of South Carolina. He has written books and essays about the American and European Renaissances, edited Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale for the Evans Shakespeare series from Cengage. His poems have appeared in numerous publications. In 2018-19, three of his poems received named awards from the Poetry Society of South Carolina and a fourth received the 2018 Faulkner-Wisdom Poetry Award from the Pirate’s Alley Faulkner Society in New Orleans.
Peter's Outer Cape Portico 