We live during an age where everything must happen right now, and not a second too late. Which is why the church calendar is now more relevant than ever. It's not inherently holy, but it's a beautiful way to mark time. It's a way to remember that, as the writer of Ecclesiastes says, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens." We cannot actively engage in all activities necessary for growth at one time.
Lent is a season of repentance. It's a season we heed the call to return to the Lord with all of our hearts. In Denver, we opened every service during Lent with the reading of the Ten Commandments, and following each commandment, the response, "Amen. Lord, have mercy." It's a season we recognize the holiness and perfection of God and our need for His mercy to heal our splintered souls. We remember He is the Creator, and we are the created.
This Lent, I'm feeling pulled toward something a little different. As this season has approached, the weight on my soul has been its propensity toward busyness. Not necessarily overbooking myself, just jumping from one task to another, opening one browser tab after another, multi-tasking. So normal. But there's also thought overload. Emotional whims. And heart unsettledness. I miss out on what the King is up to in the world because I'm so preoccupied trying to create equilibrium in my little world. I don't want to silence His movement, His whispers, His stirrings within.
There is hope.
I can do one thing at a time, and do it with Him. I can drive (below) the speed limit, eat slowly, go to the longest checkout line, park far away, walk slowly, and submit to God's agenda and not my whims. I am giving up multi-tasking, hurriedness, and impulsivity in hopes of recognizing my finite nature and His sovereignty. Colossians says that Jesus holds all things together. It all belongs to Him, and He's a lot better King than I am.
Here's to adventures. Who knows what this season will hold.
"Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return."
