It’s finally here! I want to shout about it. My exuberance over this long-awaited, much anticipated day likely exceeds that of others. I can’t help it. The greatest Wednesday of the year has finally arrived. Ash Wednesday. I am so excited! Lent is finally here!
Ah, Lent. The fresh spring of the soul. The spiritual cleaning out. The decreasing of myself to increase the light of Jesus. The loss of myself that I might find more of Him. The emptying of my soul that I might revel in His filling. The “He must increase, I must decrease” season of the soul. The days, weeks when I spend significantly more time than usual brushing out cobwebs and shaking dust from the corners of my soul, creating more and more room for Christ. The resulting joyous rejuvenation that follows is worth everything, worth anything, that must be sacrificed, renounced, or denied.
I know. Lent is not normally touted as a celebration. It is supposed to be a somber time of sackcloth and ashes, fasting and self-denial. I know. It is to remind us of the wilderness temptations and endless days of fasting. I know. I remember. I also remember what happened when Jesus came down out of the wilderness. He was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. There must have been some kind of celebrating in Heaven when He walked back into Galilee victorious! (Luke 4:14)
Led out into the wilderness by the Spirit, Jesus spent 40 days there. Forty harrowing days. This was not a vacation. It was not a sightseeing trip. He was not there to take in the scenery or photograph the lone tree managing to exist on the edge of a cliff. There was no tent in which to rest, no companion to share the sights and discuss His thoughts. He’d taken nothing with Him, had nothing to eat. No backpack with trail mix and protein snacks. No granola bar tucked in His pocket. No trees of ripened fruit lined His path. This was a mission. A test that wasn’t a test. By the end of His time there, He was hungry. He was tired. Tired of being tempted.
Neither the lack of an invitation nor the decided dearth of food and vegetation prevented the evil one from joining him in his wilderness trek. Seems he believed it a grand opportunity to thwart redemption’s plan. He’d been relentless in his taunting, resourceful in his tempting. He’d tried a hundred things already. Frustratingly for him, nothing had worked. Suddenly noting the rumbling sounds of enormous hunger emitting from Jesus’ belly, the evil one nearly giggled in glee as a brilliant idea burst across his brain. Knowledge culled from years of cunning observation, told him that humanity would do nearly anything to stave off hunger, rise in power and popularity, and preserve their own lives, he grinned in cocky self-assurance that his time spent in this awful wilderness tracking down the Savior of mankind would finally be worth it.
Clearly, he’d forgotten he was dealing with divinity, not humanity. Every plan he tried was thwarted. Not one of his traps worked. Devoid of worldly clutter and full of the Holy Spirit, Jesus had an immediate rebuttal for everyone.
“Turn stones into bread and eat.”
“Man doesn’t live by bread alone.” (Deuteronomy 8:3)
“Gain the world in exchange for the sum of your holiness.”
“You shall worship and serve only the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 6:13)
“Show everyone, right now, who You are, regardless what the Father’s plan may be.”
“Do not test the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 6:16)
Fresh out of ideas, the evil one heaved a sigh that started at the soles of his dirty little feet, conceded for the moment, and retreated to his lair to contemplate his next move. And Jesus, emerging triumphant through the strength of His Father, returns to Galilee full of the power of the Holy Spirit. I hold my belief. Heaven celebrated. (Luke 14:1-14)
See, I’ve read the Book. All of it. Many times over. I know the outcome of this situation and all the other ones. I’ve read the back of the Book. I know how it ends. I know Who ends up victorious. Yet every time I read this account and my irritation jumps to the fore over the evil one’s decided devilment, I find myself cheering at each and every victorious quotation from the lips of the One who came to save His people from their sins. From the first jab to the sucker punch, I rejoice and my soul cries out within me to be that quick to vanquish temptation with the Word of God. I want every part of my heart to resonate with the light and life of Christ so when temptation comes, I have every resource I need to withstand the onslaught.
Unfortunately, I get bogged down in the cares of life. My soul gets cluttered. I get tired and hungry, sick and scared, busy, lonely, distracted, bored. It is then the evil one visits. He comes in sans invitation firing off fierce accusations, offering ridiculous suggestions, and dangling tantalizing temptations before my tired eyes. In my moment of weakness, when I’m not at my best, I find myself actually listening to his babbling, considering his ridiculousness, wavering in my faith. As I cast around my cluttered soul for an answer, a comeback, a word to shut him up while I get my bearings, I realize how many unimportant things for which I have created room. And all the important things I haven’t. I desperately need a decluttering.
You likely need one as well. Our schedules are too full of things we don’t need to do, meetings that aren’t with God, events that fail to serve His purpose. Too many of our conversations are with humanity, not Deity. Too many of our appointments are with our gods, not our God. Our minds are too busy hammering out our latest business deal or calculating the coins of our next sale to bother counting the cost of losing the war with temptation. Because of our lack of attention, we have sold the space in our souls to anger, pride, lust, and revenge. Our hearts have become storage units of unrepented sin instead of catalogs of God’s grace. (Matthew 13:18-23)
We decidedly need Lent. Not just 40 days in the Spring of the year when we give up cheesecake and coffee and french fries. Not just 40 days of grudging self-denial because our pastor says we should. Not 40 days of limitations to check a box in hope of insuring our eternal security. No. A thousand times no! We don’t need 40 days of nothing, we need 40 days of everything. Forty days of everything God can give us when we declutter our lives and make space for an intimate, continual relationship with the Father. Forty days of preparation to do war against the evil one whenever he deigns to attack.
He will attack. When you least expect it, he will strike. When things go pear-shaped, he’ll be right there, encouraging you to give up. He’ll say it isn’t worth it. God isn’t doing His part. His promises aren’t true. You can’t trust Him. The evil one will say a lot of things to turn your head and draw you aside. It will all be rubbish. He’ll say it anyway. And if your soul is cluttered with things of the world and cares of this life, you won’t have a ready defense. You won’t have room for one. (Ephesians 6:12; I Peter 5:8; John 8:44; Psalm 139:23-24)
So declutter your soul. Make space for God. Let go of all the things that stop the continuous flow of His presence through your life. Declutter your hearts. Make room for Jesus. Rid yourself of besetting sins and private sins and presumptuous sins. Declutter your life. Make it a place where Christ reigns. Cut out the excess, the unnecessary things that prevent you from spending time in Bible study, memorization, and conversation with God. Do Lent. Not to cut calories, curb spending, or certify Heaven. Actively engage in the process of Lent to prepare room in your heart that you might have an answer for every trial, temptation, and test. Whether March or October, tradition or commitment, when you find your heart cluttered, your mind muddled, your answers to temptation amiss, may you take time to declutter your heart and prepare room in your life for the Lord. (Luke 10:19; James 4:7; Ephesians 6:11; II Corinthians 10:4; II Timothy 4:18; Hebrews 12:1; Psalm 19:12-13)
Amen for Lent!!!