Luke- a social experiment in spiritual disciplines

My church, which I have been woefully inadequate in attending because of weddingextravaganza2013, is currently teaching through Luke. I believe that this is what is in the lectionary for ordinary time, but seeing as I am new to liturgy, "ordinary time" is a new idea to me. In order to lean into this time I am going to embark on an experiment in spiritual disciplines. It sounds much more exciting than it is. I am simply going to to read through the book of Luke and try to come to the story itself with a blank slate. While I will never be able to fully get away from all of the background I already have, I would like to try to read it for what it is: an account.

My goal is to reflect on what I am reading in as raw a form as possible. I hope to learn and unlearn and relearn some things about Christ and, through that process to learn a few things about myself. I am in a spiritual funk of sorts and I think that a regular spiritual discipline will be good for me in this time. That is where you come in- there are three things I ask of you. One, I need you to help me simply by reading. Since reading scripture is something that has historically been challenging and dry for me, I am hoping to come to this with a sense of freedom in my thoughts. I think that posting several times a week and just having you out there to read it helps hold me to both the regularity and authenticity of this endeavor. Two, interact. One of my favorite things about social media is that it is social- this only works if we are talking about it over email, over coffee, on the phone, on facebook, on twitter, or on a blog. I have already enjoyed the conversations spurred by my last post about singleness. Those conversations have already challenged and encouraged me and, I hope, spurred on many other conversations for other people. Three, bear with me. This is intended to raw, which makes it somewhat vulnerable- personally, grammatically, and theologically. We are all a work in progress.

Well, here goes.

Luke 1:1-25

This is such a practical undertaking "to draw up an account of everything that has happened among us." It feels like a news story or a journal entry or a blog. And some part of me wants to think of it as more believable because of that, but I find it hard when in the next breathe Luke says, with all practicality "there was an angel standing at the altar." It seems both to make perfect sense that he would just state this, just matter of fact, and it seems that there should be more drama and more build up and more description of the supernatural to make it more believable.

Here there are such human reactions and circumstances- a couple who wants to have a child and can't conceive. I also love Zechariah's reaction to this news "give me a sign." It is akin to "prove it to me," and "what assurances do you have that I am not crazy and that I can trust you?" And then the angel makes him MUTE? What is that? Seems a little harsh, and then he goes home and has sex with his wife? People are funny. Elizabeth also has a very human reaction to finally conceiving a child. "This the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, and took away my reproach among the people." It is about her personal journey, her relationship with the Lord and her connection to her history as a Jew (I think that is what the Genesis reference is about-someone correct me if that is wrong). Such a very normal, human reaction. Gritty. This whole episode is bazaarly gritty and supernatural all at the same time. Strange.

sometimes good things hurt

Sometimes it hurts to press into a good thing. I want to stay at this church. It is alive and tender, and it is a healing place. And I want to be actively involved in youth ministry. I cannot have both. The tension pulls at my heart, and I need guidance. Your voice, Your answer is what I want and dread. Neither choice is complete, but the one You have lead me to is full.
I wince at Your compassion; I am tender and unable to hold back the tears that come when my pain is not hidden from the soft, knowing touch of the Spirit who is my shepherd. Though I still feel shy and unknown by people around me, I hear Your voice, leading me by still waters, restoring my heart.

Now I am faced with a greater challenge to step forward yet again with that internal courage to share with others - to enter into this church body.

Liturgy and Duplicity - Palm Sunday

We came into the sanctuary singing, waiving our palm branches and declaring "Hosanna, Save Us!" There was joy. Ten minutes later,  we read about the betrayal of Christ, and we yelled out "Crucify Him! Release Barabbas!" Our Deacon said "You might well be wondering what happened. You might feel jarred, and I urge you not to rush past that feeling." One of the things that I find most freeing about liturgy is that it allows me space to bring so many of the facets of my relationship with God. Because I can, indeed, in one morning, enter joyfully into the reality that Christ is King and I can turn my back on Him, cursing. I find the liturgy creates space for many sides of my nature as a sinful believer.

I find that when I have space to acknowledge my own frailty and failing that it is easier to choose to live in love. When I can honestly acknowledge my own inclinations towards evil and selfishness, it is easier to make the choice to turn from them. Previously, I felt a need to eradicate them and there was a tyrannical element to this need. I felt I had to make it so that there was no evil in me to turn from, so I found myself focusing on the sin. When I can see my sin for what it is it gives me the space to acknowledge that it is mine and that I am in some way bound to it, and that I need Christ in order to be free.

And I do. Come, Lord Jesus, and take away the sins of the world. The body of Christ, broken for me. Thanks be to God. The blood of Christ, spilled for me. Thanks be to God. 

Lent Failure?

Is lent about failure? We will fail, not just at giving things up, but at our own attempts at being remotely worthy of God. Maybe that is part of why we ought to give things up, not because we should punish ourselves, but because attempting to give something up shows us just how broken we are. In the past I have viewed lent as a competition with my sinful nature. What can I give up? Can I master this part of myself for 40 days? If I failed, then I just gave up altogether.

But what if the point is to fail? When I fail, I run into the reality that I am broken, that I cannot, in fact, master any one part of my sinful self for 40 days. I need a rescuer.

What do you think? Is lent about failure?

You might want to check out this post in light of the last post about lent.