Dear Faith Family,
The season of Lent may be the most antithetical to our human nature, not to mention our cultural values! This is understandable, of course. Throughout Lent, we are invited repeatedly to die--to let go of the old self and sin. Yet, day in and day out, we spend most of our living trying to stay off death!
The paradox of asking the living to enter the tomb willfully is demonstrated most poignantly in the days before we return "ashes to ashes." Before we kick off our pilgrimage through death's shadows, in Carnival and Mardi Gras (and their many imitations), we grab all that we can desire out of living!
While most of us probably do not participate (at least not wholeheartedly!) in these pre-Lenten parties, we also do not get too excited about giving up life--even if it is just a particular part for a specified time. Psalm 38, as we saw Sunday, gives voice to these struggles of letting go of life, of self and sin.
The voice is not so much a protest of dying nor its glorification. The psalmist loves life, and as an honest lover, does not hide the repugnant discomforts of dying. Rather than bemoaning or beckoning death, the voice of the psalm guides us through the rocky terrain of "the downward movement of the soul" from life to grave. Walking us through the struggles to cling to life and into the place we must all arrive if we are to find life new.
In the first nine verses, the psalmist voices our desire for life and the pangs we experience as the life we know gives way to its end. Then, with heart panting to a finish, strength failing, the light of the eyes gone out, the psalmist's hearing fails; he's deaf to the voices within and without exhorting him to stay upright. Even his power of speech fades. He's mute, finally unable to offer a rebuke for the loss of life (Ps. 38:10-14). Here, at "the bottom of human helplessness," is where the psalmist has been leading us. The place we all must go, the grave of our old self and sin. And here, the psalmist does the only thing the dying can do: embrace death...and wait for life after.
No more struggling with God (v. 1-2) and self (v. 3-8) to keep a broken life as it is. No more expecting others to rescue (v. 11) nor excuses because of the enemy's traps (v. 12). Here, the psalmist embraces death, entrusting even death to the Giver of Life:
"for you, O LORD, do I wait...it is you who will answer.
For I am ready to fall...I confess my iniquity; I am sorry for sin."
(Ps. 38:15-18)
The grave is where we arrive, the place we must reach, even if we tend to do everything to delay our arrival! Praise God, like Jesus, our stay in the tomb won't be for too long!
"all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death...buried…with him...in order that, just as Christ...we too might walk in newness of life." (Rom. 6:3-4)
So this week, as we enter the psalms through our Lenten practice of Lectio Divina, let's start praying for a speedy arrival. In the first movement of the practice, replace the "centering prayer" with this adapted Lenten prayer for the Orthodox tradition. And, when your mind wanders and your spirit wains in the struggle, come back to the prayer embracing death so that you might really live!
O Lord and Giver of my life!
Take from me the spirit of avoidance,
which keeps me from following Jesus into my grave.
Take from me the spirit of faint-heartedness,
despair that speaks the lies that the grave is where I'll stay.
Take from me the lust of power
that would have me fight to keep what is mine
rather than receive what is yours.
And, Father, take from me foolish talk,
letting my confession be without self-deceit.
May you find that in the dark depths of the death of sin, "night is bright as the day," for even here, His hand will lead and comfort (Ps. 139:8-12).
Love you, faith family! God bless.