"You are Dust, and to Dust You Shall Return."

Lent began this Wednesday and I began my fast. I'm proud of myself for following the guidelines I set for myself for the fast, but then again, it's only been four days. The trick will be to not pig out tomorrow and then to pick up the fast for another six days. If I get through the next week, I think I will make it through til Easter.

I know if I slip, I risk not getting back into it. I'm the sort who needs to abide the rules or not have them at all. So far, hunger isn't the problem; turning down food (especially if it's homemade) from other people is. Generations of Southerners are whispering in my head, "That's so rude not to accept!" And I don't mind feeling awkward not eating while others are, but I don't want to make them awkward, and I'm not quite sure how to ease their worries that I'm quite alright.

For the second part of my Lent participation this year, I want to read the New Testament. All of it, straight through, which I'm sad to say I haven't done. I'm sadder to say I haven't started yet, but perhaps I will tomorrow after church while I munch on some chocolate.

I don't like that Lent is optional or non-existent to most Christians. Sure, it's not as fun as Christmas, but I think any faith needs a time/ritual of humility, sacrifice, deep reflection. I'm not forcing anything by being so strict about Lent this year, but I am opening myself to learn something. I think too many people gloss over the heavier parts of Christianity for the easier and more socially acceptable parts. But a few days of penitence and deep conversations wouldn't hurt anyone. There is nothing sinful in not doing so, but it's like eating vanilla ice cream when you could add chocolate syrup and have a sundae; the basics are still there, but there is a richness missing.

The Ash Wednesday service is one of my favorite services all year (along with Maundy Thursday, so I guess I like gloomy services as much as I like gloomy weather). I like getting marked with the ashes of last year's palm leaves. Though it is a depressing reminder of mortality ("You are dust..."), there is something uplifting about it. Christianity is a faith of receiving grace and life that you as a mere, sinning human never come close to deserving. A sign of penitence and humility is the most you can do, and yet it is not particularly required nor is it enough. That's a facet of the faith I think people miss. It is not works or self-punishment that earn you heaven, but those that believe will want to do good things and follow rules because it is a tiny, tiny way to repaid such a big debt. Works are nothing, you are nothing, in the grand scheme of things. But you still get to participate in God's plan and get God's attention and love.

That's a pretty exciting thought on a somber holiday for this piece of dust.

'Righteous Fox' sounds like nails on a blackboard

I spent the weekend chaperoning for my church’s youth group. It was a conference I attended for seven years as a youth. I remember having a good time, but coming home and thinking, “That satisfied me for a year.” I think it’s a great conference, but it’s not the way I worship, and most the speakers aren’t giving a message I particularly need. And the format is geared to get teenagers hyped up, but that’s not my worship style. Just as I’m sure the Gloria Patri makes some kids uncomfortable and bored, repeating the same line over and over (and over and over) of some contemporary Christian song with arms held up makes me uncomfortable and bored. But I think it’s beneficial to change it up once in a while. It makes me pay attention and keeps my mind open.

So I went with an open mind only to find that the speaker was the same man who spoke seven years ago. I can’t remember all the speakers, but I remembered this one because I disliked him so much. And not only was it the same man, but it was the exact same sermon. Apparently, that’s his “thing.” And I tried to listen with fresh ears and not judge, but I still came out disliking him. I couldn’t pin down why: his starting each session by calling his wife a "righteous fox, cha-ching," his humor about his ADHD which is so over-the-top it made me feel like he was super insecure about it, the way he divided believers up so that only Road to Damascus believers count, or the arrogance of “I’ve done this and it was awesome” and “You should do this like me." that made it more about him than any message. The combination had me totally turned off by the Saturday night chair throwing and altar call.

Yet, most people seemed to have a genuine response to it. I wasn’t sure how many were really having a religious experience or just following what their friends were doing. If it was real, I was definitely missing something in the air. I just don’t respond to mass conversions, especially mass conversions of people who obviously already have some church rooting if they are attending a conference. My faith is independent, and my awakenings and reaffirmations are 1. individual and 2. continuous. If it really did affect that many as a legitimate change, then it’s wonderful, but I can’t see it. So I keep seeking…

[Picture is of artist who painted Jesus in the time span of about four songs during one of the sessions. It was much more inspiring than the messages from the speaker.]

Sunday of Joy

It doesn't feel like Sunday. First, because I slept in until 10:59 and figured I wasn't going to make that 11 a.m. church service, and second because my weekend extends til Wednesday. I'm glad I don't have to brave the snow tomorrow at 7:45 for finals, and I'm surprised the school hasn't altered its finals schedule like other colleges in the area.

I've had a great day just lounging around inside watching the snow and beginning to pack. Snow makes me happy. Being alone makes me happy for the most part. I'm an introvert.

Being happy isn't the same as feeling joy though. Joy is higher, lighter, brighter than happy. I haven't felt joy in a long, long time. I used to feel joy every time we kissed after a long absence. I used to feel joy when I thought about how great our future would be. Now, I'm trying to find something in my life that will bring joy again, be a job, or something new, or someplace new, or someone new. I want to light up and smile for no reason and dive passionately into whatever it is that brings joy.

And yes, Christmas/Christ does bring me joy too, especially during this season of snow and candles and pretty songs. Joy to the world should the world accept it.