Lenten Blog: Post Two
during this season of lent, we have invited some of the many voices at journey to contribute to our blog... to share their thoughts and experiences about lent. enjoy!
“Blindness is also this, to live in a world where all hope is gone.” – Jose Saramago, Blindness
I’ve never given anything up or taken anything on for Lent before. There are two major reasons for this: my church, growing up, didn’t practice Lent and I’ve always found it to be a silly idea. This year, I thought I would give it a try – thinking that perhaps there is more to this “season” than the practice of self-restraint. For my first Lent, I have officially given up “worrying”.
So far, this has turned out to be fairly difficult. I probably should have given up Dr. Pepper instead.
Last Sunday, as I contemplated the “apple/forbidden fruit” in my life, I realized that I couldn’t have picked a better sacrifice. Worry is my way of coping with the unknown. I start to worry when there’s a blind spot surrounding my future, my success (personally or professionally), or an outcome that I desire. It’s pretty much the staple in my assorted coping mechanisms. Worry allows me to both wrap myself in self-pity and also to feel as though I am somehow in control of the unknown. It is also a huge indicator that I don’t fully trust that God has my best interest at heart.
I’m still not entirely sure how to “give up worry” but I can say that it has been an incredible opportunity to reflect on that which gives me hope. I’ve found myself driven more and more into conversation with God about what I fear and what I desire and why. I have to admit that it is sometimes a pretty unnerving process. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of how much I have (both tangibly and intangibly) and of the constancy of God’s provision. I’m also learning that “not worrying” is not equivalent to a lack of needs or uncertainties in my life. However, if I truly believe in God’s promises for me, then I am obligated to live in a way that reflects this faith. I must force myself to see and even to seek out where hope exists – not just in the present, but in the unknown.
So, I approach these coming days with a sense of possibility. I do not know what the days ahead will bring but I shall not worry, because I am called to focus my heart and energies on more important matters. When the outcome is uncertain, joy and hope can still exist.
- Kate Meister
“Blindness is also this, to live in a world where all hope is gone.” – Jose Saramago, Blindness
I’ve never given anything up or taken anything on for Lent before. There are two major reasons for this: my church, growing up, didn’t practice Lent and I’ve always found it to be a silly idea. This year, I thought I would give it a try – thinking that perhaps there is more to this “season” than the practice of self-restraint. For my first Lent, I have officially given up “worrying”.
So far, this has turned out to be fairly difficult. I probably should have given up Dr. Pepper instead.
Last Sunday, as I contemplated the “apple/forbidden fruit” in my life, I realized that I couldn’t have picked a better sacrifice. Worry is my way of coping with the unknown. I start to worry when there’s a blind spot surrounding my future, my success (personally or professionally), or an outcome that I desire. It’s pretty much the staple in my assorted coping mechanisms. Worry allows me to both wrap myself in self-pity and also to feel as though I am somehow in control of the unknown. It is also a huge indicator that I don’t fully trust that God has my best interest at heart.
I’m still not entirely sure how to “give up worry” but I can say that it has been an incredible opportunity to reflect on that which gives me hope. I’ve found myself driven more and more into conversation with God about what I fear and what I desire and why. I have to admit that it is sometimes a pretty unnerving process. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of how much I have (both tangibly and intangibly) and of the constancy of God’s provision. I’m also learning that “not worrying” is not equivalent to a lack of needs or uncertainties in my life. However, if I truly believe in God’s promises for me, then I am obligated to live in a way that reflects this faith. I must force myself to see and even to seek out where hope exists – not just in the present, but in the unknown.
So, I approach these coming days with a sense of possibility. I do not know what the days ahead will bring but I shall not worry, because I am called to focus my heart and energies on more important matters. When the outcome is uncertain, joy and hope can still exist.
- Kate Meister
posted by LukeMiller at 8:44 PM
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