Lent - Day 1

To quote my roommate, Kristin, this morning, "I was feeling guilty about not having prepared for Lent.  And then I realized that Lent is the preparation."  I laughed so hard when she said it, because that's exactly how I've been feeling.  We humans are so silly sometimes.

I started this blog three years ago as a Lenten project.  At the time, I was trying to figure out how to tangibly embrace hope.  And somehow, writing about both hope, and its nemesis - despair - seemed like a way to do that, a way that fit me.

And it still does.  So here I am.

And I'm a mess.

Which seems fitting.  For Lent.  I stayed up too late, even though I knew that I'd be rising early. (I've heard it said that one way to embrace Lent is to either give up something or add in something beneficial.  I don't actually know how to "add in" something without giving up something, because life just seems kind of like that ... whether I'm always aware of it or not ... that when we choose one thing, we almost inevitably give up another thing.  So, I'm "adding in" this practice of rising early, reading my Bible, writing, and praying.  And I trust that if I stick to it, the appropriate "givings-up" will happen.  I will have to give up staying up too late.  Or, I will get very, very sick about half way through Lent.  We'll see which happens. :) And I'll probably have to give up getting on Facebook before bed because that is always the death of an early bedtime.  I will give up the right stuff, I think ... the stuff that needs to go for this habit to take its shape in my life.  All of that to say, I stayed up too late.  Jeesh.  I digress.)

Anyway, yesterday when I realized it was Lent, I was feeling all, "Wait!!!  Lent, already?!  But I'm not ready.  My heart's not ready.  I'm still moving too fast.  I haven't even decided what to give up!"  All of which means that I am sooo ready for Lent.  This is the time, to slow my heart down.  To enter it, a mess.  To climb up onto my Father's lap, as I am, and let Him teach me.

Today's reading was from Genesis 29 and 30, the story of Rachel and Leah.  If you haven't read it, you should.  Forgive my bossiness, please.  It's just that it's really such a profound story.  The nutshell version goes something like this:

A man named Jacob met a woman named Rachel while she was out shepherding sheep (which clearly means she was kind of a bad-a, no?).  Anyway, it doesn't say, point-blank, that it was love at first sight for Jacob.  What it says is even better: when Jacob saw Rachel, he moved a giant stone that was so heavy that normally several men were required to move it, all by himself ... so that Rachel's sheep could drink.  He made a gesture.  Or, in modern vernacular, he dug this woman.  And it made him strong.  I find that little portion of the story so endearing.  I love how love can make you strong.

Anyway, so Jacob loved Rachel.  And, though it seems like a strange deal to me, it must of made sense within the context of that day, Jacob made a deal with her dad that he'd work for him for 7 years in exchange for Rachel's hand in marriage.  And again, one of my favorite lines in the Bible about love: "So Jacob worked seven years for Rachel.  But it only seemed like a few days, he loved her so much."  How much do we all want that kind of love?  Yes, please.

But then her dad got greedy and - though I truly struggle with understanding how this actually happened - when it came time to consummate their marriage, her dad substituted her sister, Leah, for Rachel.  And Jacob slept with Leah instead, and didn't notice until the morning.  Yeah.  I know.  It's crazy talk.  All I can think is that maybe Jacob celebrated a bit too hard and was ... compromised, shall we say ... when he climbed into bed.  However it happened, what I have to say is this ... Poor Leah.  I struggle with this.  I wish I could read her journal (if she kept one).  It seems hard to understand why God permits people to be so hurt sometimes ... why God gives all us people such freedom to make such big mistakes that hurt others so profoundly.  Because, when Jacob woke up to Leah, he was upset.  I'll say it again, poor Leah.  The last thing any human would want upon giving themselves fully to another is to see disappointment in the other's eyes at the light of day.  Gosh.  I can't imagine her heartache.  I imagine how totally rejected she must have felt when Jacob left quickly to go back to their father to say, "What the heck??  You gave me Leah!  I said I wanted Rachel!"  But that's what happened.  And their dad, at that point - rather than being at all remorseful - just made Jacob another offer.  Work for me for 7 more years, and you can have them both.  When I can get past my sheer outrage at the multitude of things that are wrong in this story about how any human being is treated as property, who I feel most mad at is the dad.  Seriously, guy?!  Greed is so ugly.

But, Jacob took his offer.  And he married both Leah and Rachel.  And the story goes on much further.  And we get to see how sins sometimes have such long, enduring consequences.  Because Leah went on to bear Jacob 6 sons total, believing each time that maybe with this son, Jacob would finally love her.  And Rachel couldn't get pregnant.  So, even though she was the loved one, the desired one, Rachel felt heartbroken too ... jealous of her sister.  And she ended up offering Jacob her servant.  And he had sex with her too.  And then, Rachel took her servant's child as her own, trying to mend her own wounds about her barrenness.  Again, I have to stop and say, seriously?!  The poor servant.  Used by a man for sex.  Impregnated.  And then gives up her child to her master???  I wish I could read that servant's journal too ... only she probably didn't have time to write.

Anyway, the two sisters go on, using babies as emotional validation of their worth and desirability.  And so it goes....

Somehow, this just seems like the perfect story with which to start Lent.  It's got it all ... all the cruxes of what it means to be human ... insecurity, the desire to be loved, greed, selfishness, the abuse of the weak, the belief that if I just had this, I'd be happy.  But, it's got some good stuff too.  It's got the kind of love that causes 7 years of work to pass like days.  It's got the kind of love that makes you strong.

So, here I sit.  With Jacob and Rachel and Leah and that greedy father and that poor servant.  And somehow, they all feel familiar to me, even though I've never met them.

I'm reading through a devotional by Henri Nouwen this season, and to close, I'm going to write a part of his prayer from today's reading.  It seems the only appropriate response to the story I've shared.

Here goes:

"Lord, I know that Lent is going to be a very hard time for me.  The choice for Your way has to be made every moment of my life.  I have to choose thoughts that are your thoughts, words that are your words, and actions that are your actions.  There are no times or places without choices.  And I know how deeply I resist choosing you.  Faithful God, trusting in you, I begin the forty days of conversion and penance.  Give me the strength for Christian discipline, that I may renounce evil and be decisive in doing good.  I ask this through Jesus Christ."  Amen.

May it be so.