Lament and Hope during Lent
This year as a Fellow is one of the first times that I’ve not only participated in Lent but have come to a deeper understanding of the purpose of the season. While it is a time when we can choose to give something up or add in different practices for 40 days, I’ve learned it’s also an invitation to experience our own humanity and through it, to know God’s unimaginable love and goodness so much more deeply and intimately.
The Sunday before Lent started, one of the pastors at our church said something that stuck with me. He encouraged us to think about the one thing we didn’t think we could actually give up for Lent, and then just do it. As silly as it sounds (because truthfully, it is a bit silly) that was how I felt about giving up coffee. But on the morning of Ash Wednesday, I made the last-minute decision to put his words into practice, and to just do it. I figured that if Jesus could give His life up on the cross for all of us, surely, I could give up something as small and simple as a little caffeinated drink. While it was in fact doable, the experience did quickly bring me face to face with some of my limitations. If you know me, you know I drink lots of coffee and you probably also know I can be a bit sleepy and even cranky when I don’t. It was strangely humbling to feel so affected by something that relatively is not actually that big. But this reminder of my humanity has also been a sweet reminder of a God who I can depend on when I don’t have my beloved coffee, and who loves me in all of my sleepiness, silliness and even all of my crankiness.
Another practice of Lent I have leaned into this year is the practice of lament. To use a term that I’ve picked up from our director, JD, this year has been an especially Lent-y Lent. In all honestly, although it has been a sweet and beautiful season, it’s also been exhausting and hard in some moments, both individually and corporately. I’ve found myself thinking about what it looks like to invite God into that. In church, we’ve talked about how grief and lament are not an absence of hope but an invitation to find hope through deep relationship with our loving God. One of the ways I’ve personally been able to lean into God’s loving kindness during harder moments this Lent is experiencing the gift of rest in some really beautiful ways. For example, I’ve been recently appreciating the joy of slowing down to read a good book (I just finished East of Eden by John Steinbeck and I highly recommend it). I have also rested in sweet moments with friends, especially weekends spent with the Fellows hanging out at the park or having game nights at one of our host homes. That being said, sometimes rest has also looked like saying no to those plans and spending time by myself when I’m just tired and need some space. Through each of these forms of rest, and more, I’ve learned that rest is not a bad thing at all, but actually a way that we can lean into the Father’s arms whether we’re rejoicing or lamenting, and an invitation to a deeper relationship with Him.
It has been such a blessing this Lent to experience a deep awareness of my own humanity and brokenness and it’s been even more of a blessing to draw closer to the Lord and to the community He has given me here, to lament at times, but also to rejoice together in our incredible God and the hope we have in Him!
With love,
Tess