Tag Archives: Lent

Lent Day 31: Being a Grown Up Sucks Sometimes

Posted on 24 March 2012 | 1 comment

Today’s weather was perfect for a run: 70 degrees with a nice lukewarm rain. As I came home from school today, my heart wanted so badly to go for a nice, long run. My spirit wanted to be unleashed and untethered to plod along the Greenway with my bare feet soaking up the rainwater as they splashed along the trail. I could feel the joy in that run.

I sat by the open picture window, looking out across the green floor boards of our front porch and watching the rain fall in the grass of the front yard. I admit that I have been feeling a little sorry for myself for the past month. My body doesn’t seem to have the same aspirations as my spirit when it comes to running or swimming. For example, today instead of wanting to go run, my body wanted to come into the house and fall asleep on the couch by about 5:30.

I’ve been sick quite a bit in the past month, and I wouldn’t say that it’s been a serious sickness. I’ve just been tired and haven’t felt 100 percent. This week, however, just when I wanted to really kick in my running to get ready for this 15K trail run, my body decided to rebel. I’ve had a temperature as high as 101 degrees, and I can’t seem to shake it. Of course, some antibiotics would probably help, but I don’t like to take medicine. Apparently, I’d rather wallow in my own illness than do something about it. How theological is that?

Along with not being able to run tonight, like I wanted to, I also wanted to go to Hartford City to see some bands—The Whipstitch Sallies and So What and the Deliverance—perform and to spend time with some friends. I have been planning to go hear them for several weeks, if not months, so I was really disappointed to not be able to go. But I decided that I am old enough to have to cancel some things when I am sick, which is kind of a big deal for me, because I tend to just keep going until I drop over. In fact, that’s likely why I am sick right now. Last weekend was a doozy, and since the end of February, I have been going nonstop. I’ve been going so nonstop, I was shocked when I looked at the calendar today and realized that April is literally a week away. I’ve missed March somehow. Time generally goes too fast for me anyway, but this was ridiculous.

Somehow I also missed the fact that the Huffington Post Religion section is running a special page for Lent 2012. Do they do this every Lent and I’m just oblivious? Probably.

Each day there is a meditation provided by one person from a diverse group of religious leaders and writers. Some of them are very moving, so I would suggest simply going there and perusing them if you’re so inclined. This one by Rev. Emily C. Heath was one of my particular favorites, and this one by Carol Howard Merritt is a particularly beautiful story of the grace of feet washing, to which I can thank my Church of God friends for introducing me. Enjoy the contemplation.

Peace.

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Posted in Baptism, Christianity, Ethics, Goals, Grace, Lent, Mental Health, Music, Play, Relationships, Religion, Running, Spirituality, Swimming

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Lent Day 30: Silent? You Want Me To Be Silent?

Posted on 22 March 2012 | 3 comments

Those of you, who know me well, know that I love to converse. I have often said I should have gone into psychology so I could just sit and listen to people talk all day long, not to belittle what psychologists do, because I believe psychology is a noble profession. I just think I’d like to try to provide people with a listening ear that is attached to a thinking mind that can hopefully provide some insight or some tools to make life better or, at least, more cope-able for them. Perhaps I became a teacher, because for as much as I like to listen to other people talk, I also love to talk myself, not to myself. I went on a silent meditation retreat a few years ago, and as much I love to converse with others, the silent retreat was a refreshing change. I’m starting to think God wants me to revisit this silent retreat for some parts of Lent.

Contemplation

When I opened my Verse & Voice email from Sojourners Magazine, I found this quote from Hans Urs Von Balthasar: “The silence required of the Christian is not found fundamentally and primarily of human making. Rather, believers must realize that they already possess within themselves and at the same time in God the quiet, hidden ‘chamber’ into which they are to enter and in which they are with [God].” This was preceded by a Benedict of Nursia quote from my morning prayers: “How much more important it is to refrain from evil speech, remembering what such sins bring down on us in punishment. In fact so important is it to cultivate silence. After all, it is written in scripture that one who never stops talking cannot avoid falling into sin. Another text in the same book reminds us that the tongue holds the key to death and life.” Both of these quotes work together, serving as an excellent reminder to me that I need to stop and listen. To people. To God. To nature. I simply need to listen.

I am too quick to offer my opinions and my advice. Sometimes I sit in conversations waiting to say my piece, not necessarily listening to what the other person is saying, instead formulating my response to what it is I think they’re going to say (or are saying). I confess that I don’t always care what the other person is going through, because I am feeling so wounded myself, so I really only wanted to meet for drinks, coffee, lunch, or whatever because I needed healing. I forget that maybe they are feeling the same wounded way, maybe more so.

A Path in the Wilderness

If you’re someone who’s been slighted by me, I’m sorry, but I don’t just do this to other people. I ignore or have one-sided conversations with God, too. I have had the audacity to come to prayer with God with the sole intention of airing my grievances, my grief, my suggestions for improvements, and/or my angst. I have forgotten to listen to what God has to say to me, or worse yet, I have blatantly ignored God. Sometimes in my life I might say that I can’t feel or hear God, but I think that might just be an excuse I’ve used when I didn’t want to feel or hear. It also might be an excuse I use when I choose to talk too much and listen too little.

I think God is reminding me to slow down, listen hard, and shut my mouth for a minute. I feel like I should celebrate this with silence. While running? While swimming? While praying? But really all three of those are the same, right? How else can I celebrate silence this Lent? When can I be still and listen to God?
Peace.

*

I always feel like I am called to fast during Lent, but I never know exactly what that might look like until I get to where God shows me. I feel (because spirituality is a good portion intuition) that God is calling me to—and I am going to honor—a fast for Holy Week. So from Palm Sunday through Easter, I plan to eat one evening meal each day, fasting from breakfast and lunch. Once I’ve celebrated the resurrection of Jesus, I am going to participate in the Whole 30, which is a pretty strict version of paleo that lasts for thirty days and supposedly rejuvenates your bodies ability to digest food and feel its Circadian rhythms. My goal is to do the Whole 30 from April 8 through May 8.

The

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Posted in Christianity, Food, Goals, Grace, Lent, Paleo/Primal, Religion, Spirituality

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Lent Day 28 & 29: All My Stuff, Imago Dei, and the American Dream

Posted on 21 March 2012 | 1 comment

I have a lot of stuff. As I write this, I am sitting in a not-so-comfortable chair, suffering God knows what kind of allergies, thinking about how blessed I am. Within my reach, without even moving from this chair, I have books about lots of topics (John Wesley’s Sermons; Living Buddha, Living Christ; Reluctant Pilgrim; The Death and Life of the Great American School System; Revelations; Paradise; The Ask and the Answer; Mockingjay; the Bible), magazines as varied (Runner’s World; Sojourner’s Magazine; The Writer’s Chronicle), and a graphic novel (Billy Fog and the Gift of Trouble Sight). I have an empty (previously full) glass of clean water and a belly full of delicious food. I have clean clothes, electricity, and too many gadgets. I have every tangible thing I could ever want (except for a brand new Nissan Z). I am blessed.

A line near the end of Billy Fog and the Gift of Trouble Sight says, “Don’t waste your time being mean. Just watch—the years go by in the blink of an eye… Be good to your parents, and work hard at school.” For as blessed as I am, and likely you are, I spend an awful lot of time dwelling on those things I don’t have. I could list a handful of things I’d like to go buy if I had the money to. Are any of those, things I need? Not likely. I have a coat for the winter. I have shoes. Lots of shoes. I have so many clothes I can’t wear them all in a week (or probably a month), and I have access to a a washer and dryer in my house, so there’s really no need for it. But I compare myself to the people around me and come up short every time. There is always something I could do better, purchase bigger, be rewarded for more lavishly. Isn’t this, after all, the American Dream? To get ahead?

Sometimes, because they want to get ahead, people are mean. They’ll stop at nothing to get ahead, and before they know it, their lives have passed them by and they’re left with a closet full of clothes, shelves full of books, and enough shoes to outfit the Harlem Globetrotters. I don’t want to be one of those people. I want to live my life with meaning, because it seems fairly simple to “be good to your parents, and work hard at school.” Being good seems fairly simple, but it’s not for me. Being a competitive jerk is much easier, getting caught up the capitalist snare of trying to do better than those people around me until I no longer recognize myself or the imago dei inside of me. I lose sight of God in me. I can’t recognize the divine in myself, but I can see that my friends’ shoes are cooler than mine, that I don’t have the latest fashions, or that I need one more book. That’s the big one for me: books.

“Don’t waste your time being mean.” Instead, use your time to rediscover the image of God inside you, hiding there beneath all the layers of excess that have built up around you. Shed the American dream for the imago dei.

*

On a personal note, I’ve been in an athletic slump for about three weeks. I haven’t run in at least as long, and I have a 9 mile race in two weeks. I doubt that’s going to happen, and I seriously doubt the 13.1 miles that are supposed to happen in May are going to happen. Some prayers would be appreciated on the exercise front. In order to help hold myself accountable, I signed up for this College Swim Trip from March 26 to April 27. During that month, I am supposed to swim a total of 57 miles, the distance from Ball State to Butler. My goal is to run 2 miles and swim 2 miles each morning. That’s an hour of swimming and a half hour of running, which isn’t really too much to ask, right? I’m really not sure why I’ve been in such a funk. Here’s to healthy eating, healthy exercise, and to mental and spiritual health.

Peace.

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Posted in Capitalism, Christianity, Ethics, Goals, Grace, Lent, Mental Health, Relationships, Religion, Social Justice, Spirituality

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Lent Day 25, 26 & 27: Lost a Few Days in There

Posted on 19 March 2012 | Leave a comment

I think I must have been being too joyful over the weekend, because I lost a few days in there somewhere.

For today’s meditation I want to focus on the present, and not in the cheesy way that an email I received encouraged me to: they call today the present, because it’s a gift. Um, yeah. Pema Chodron writes: “One can appreciate and celebrate each moment—there’s nothing more sacred.There’s nothing more vast or absolute. In fact, there’s nothing more!” I spend too much time, in fact, most of my time, focusing on what comes before each moment and on what comes after each moment. I don’t regularly savor each moment as it happens. Too frequently, I waste the moment by thinking about what I could have changed about the past or about how that present moment will impact my future. In general, I don’t just stop and think about how truly beautiful, or how truly sacred, each moment can be or is. I find myself trapped in the past, looking toward the future, and forgetting about the present, the right now, the “moment” of which “there’s nothing more vast or absolute.” I just squander the sacred beauty of what is.

On Saturday night, I had the privilege of attending Mass at St. John’s in the big HC, my home town. I find myself wondering, in a good way, how people can be Catholic or Orthodox. How can they be in the very real presence of Christ every Sunday and be able to stand it? Whenever I think about the fact that Jesus body and blood are literally ingested into the bodies of the followers of those two denominations, I always wonder if they recognize the beauty, the sacredness, the absolute wonder and majesty of that idea. Jesus is real, he is present, and he is giving, yet again, his body and blood for our consumption. I, for one, can only be in that very real presence of God every so often, because I feel so small in comparison, so unworthy, so ignorant.

Communion

On Saturday, I wondered how this glorious and holy mystery impacted those people who shared in the Eucharist. I, of course, did not because I am not Catholic. I do believe in transubstantiation, but I haven’t been baptized in the Catholic church, so I always abstain out of respect for their rules, expectations, or whatever. It’s probably for the best, because I am not sure I could stand it. When the Fr. Dave was emptying the bowl that the body had been resting in, and combining all of the blood into one chalice, I began to think of the sacrifice. It’s Lent, who wouldn’t think of the sacrifice? But when he lifted the chalice to his lips and swallowed down the rest of the body and blood, I lost it. I always tear up in the face of great reverence. How purely beautiful to not want any bit of your Lord to be wasted, to take in all of that pain and suffering and redemption!

On Sunday, I had another great moment with God in nature. I know, I know, a good protestant (forgive me I think I was a nun once in a former life) experiencing Jesus in the Catholic Church and then again in Nature?!? Ack. Maybe I’m not such a good Protestant after all, but how can you not experience God in this:

Beauty at the Mounds

Especially with the flowers and the grass poking through the dead leaves and winter decay, how can a person not experience God?

So then tell me how is it with all of these bits of heaven presenting themselves to me, how is it that I can still get side tracked by thoughts such as these from Psalm 73?

For I envied the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
They have no struggles;
their bodies are healthy and strong.
They are free from common human burdens;
they are not plagued by human ills.
Therefore pride is their necklace;
they clothe themselves with violence.
From their callous hearts comes iniquity;
the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.
They scoff, and speak with malice;
with arrogance they threaten oppression.
Their mouths lay claim to heaven,
and their tongues take possession of the earth.
Therefore their people turn to them
and drink up waters in abundance.
They say, “How would God know?
Does the Most High know anything?”
This is what the wicked are like—
always free of care, they go on amassing wealth.

How can I be persuaded to compare myself to others? How can I let what other humans do bother me? I think it’s because

I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before you.

And that’s not likely to change any time soon. But, by focusing on the present, not the past and not the future, maybe I can become less and less of a brute beast (see that future focus?). And maybe I can escape the past of dwelling on what seems unfair or irrational. I’m trying. Let’s hope it works.

Peace.

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Posted in Baptism, Buddhism, Christianity, Goals, Grace, Lent, Mental Health, Photos, Relationships, Spirituality

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Lent Day 24: Nights Out and Silly Joy

Posted on 17 March 2012 | 1 comment

This weekend is ripe with friend connections. Last night I went out with work friends, the colleagues who make teaching bearable. I love my students, so having some colleagues who aren’t dicks is just a bonus.

Getting Ready to Go Out

We did a pre-St. Patrick’s Day pub crawl in good old Muncie, Indiana. We started at the ever trendy, hipster Savage’s Ale House, which is one of my favorite bars, because they have $1 PBRs, of which I had two. I also had the Epic Muncie Burger. Amazing.

$1 Pabst Blue Ribbon

Celebrating the Graduate

From Savage’s we headed to Doc’s Music Hall for all the mixed-drink drinkers. We sat outside at a really long table. There were a whole slew of us! Here’s where I mixed my metaphors and went from Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Loretto, Kentucky and stopped south of the border for a few sips of my friend’s, the birthday girl, Muncie-rita, that’s served complete with an upside down bottle of Corona in it. All the traveling must be why I have such a headache this morning!

Maker's with a Splash of Coke

From Doc’s we dropped in next door at the Heorot. I kept on traveling: I had a Strongbow from Ireland and a New Albanian Porter from New Albany, Indiana.

Half-Lit Chandelier at Silo

Then we headed to the Silo (Maker’s and a Fat Tire (Fort Collins, Colorado)), and then to the very haunted Fickle Peach (Bell’s Porter from Kalamazoo, Michigan) where I spilled my beer so hard the marble bar broke the glass. No worries, a friend split her beer with me and then somehow I ended up with another Bell’s Porter. I also played pool for the first time in several years and didn’t do too shabbily, but I didn’t do really well either.

Bell's Porter, not the one I spilled

Outside the Peach: Are those orbs I see?

We ended the night back in Milwaukee with a Miller Lite at the Mark III Tap Room, “the longest gay bar in the world,” but by that time I didn’t trust myself to take my phone out of my pocket for fear that it would go the way of the beer at the Peach and shatter all over the dance floor.

My point in writing about this is that I am a serious person most of the time, but my goal this year was to get my joy back by doing those things I hadn’t been doing, which bring me joy. Surrounding myself with friends brings me joy. Drinking excellent beer and bourbon brings me joy. Walking around town and acting silly and dancing poorly all bring me joy: great joy and a great headache the next morning. I think Jesus wants us to experience joy (maybe not so much the headaches, though he did like his wine); in fact, I think we were designed to be filled with joy. Look at Adam and Eve, they were perfectly content before they ate that dastardly fruit. How could they not have been joyful living in the most perfect place ever? David was so joyful he danced with no clothes. John the Baptist was so joyful in utero that he “leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit.” Peter was so joyful he couldn’t resist calling Jesus out for who he is, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” In the end, we’ll all be so filled with joy, we won’t be able to stop singing.

I just want a little bit of that joy here on earth, and one way for me to experience it is by giving myself over to those silly sides of myself that don’t always show, but which always hide there, just beneath the surface aching to get out. And, yeah, in many ways, I am equating fleshly drunkenness with spiritual drunkenness. The spirit and the flesh, they feel really similar to me, which I suppose is because I don’t really buy that mind, spirit, body split nonsense, chalking it up as a patriarchal paradigm foisted upon us by the Enlightenment. So tonight I plan to do it all over again with different friends, in a different place, but with the same goal in mind: gathering the joy that’s swirling around out there waiting for us to take it!

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Posted in Beer, Christianity, Cider, Food, GLBT, Goals, Grace, Hair, Lent, Mental Health, Photos, Play, Queer, Relationships, Religion, Spirituality

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