Lent

Today is supposed to be a day of great clarity. By this morning we were supposed to know who THE candidates for president are. We were supposed to have decided who the best football team ever is. We were supposed to know just how spiritual we are.

It’s Ash Wednesday, and historically, those who have ash on their heads know that they are God’s servants in the face of ridicule, and those who don’t have ash on their heads know that they are God’s servants in the face of centuries of confusion.

As usual, however, what is running through my head this morning is a significant lack of clarity in the face of all of the tendency toward confusion. While candidates were talking to their supporters, tornadoes were killing at least 27 people. All the money spent on the campaigning would go far to help the people who are dealing with destruction and pain, but the money can’t bring back lives.

I’m supposed to know the answers spiritually, and yet I am struggling as I walk into this season with the seven other people who are committed to write this blog. Do I give somethign up or do I commit to something? How do I quiet the conflicting voices in my head and heart as I balance theological constructs with the time that says I need to finish this post and get our daughter to school and get to walking and to working and to leading and to serving?

Ah, but perhaps the clarity of the lenten season the clarity that comes from saying, “I give up.”

Lord? I, as you know, struggle mightily with needing to know the answers. I feel the need to know what to tell people and how to tell people and when to tell people. I am in a constant struggle to know how to do everything in the hope that somewhere I’m doing what you want. And so, in this moment, I acknowledge that I don’t know what you want next. I just know that now, You want my attention. And so, I think I’m giving up trying to hear so I can listen.

And Lord? Help those families.