Giving Up Stuff for Lent

Without knowing it, I seem to have joined many others across the internet to resolve to give up “stuff” for Lent. I tend to think I don’t have too awfully much stuff but when I moved in ten years ago with my partner, I crammed it into a couple closets and never returned to it. Part of the problem is, with all of his stuff, there wasn’t much room for mine. I’ll know when he reads this blog because he will protest.

So I have resolved to get rid of stuff for Lent. I won’t just sort and discard. Each time I open a closet to start I will pray the prayer below, inspired by words from Joyce Rupp. I have added an antiphon, inspired by something I found online.

My Pentecostal background didn't prepare me for Lent. I've slowly warmed to the idea. I think that's how it usually is with a life of faith. As we journey, we encounter new places and vistas in the Holy. This year I have been looking forward to Lent for weeks. My soul has been thirsting for it.

I resolve to spend a few minutes each day—sometimes more—with the prayer below before sorting and discarding. And like Teresa of Avila, I will set a chair in the room for Jesus. When I can't decide whether to keep or discard, I can look to him. Something tells me he's going to give me the thumbs down on a lot of stuff.


My Giving Up Stuff During Lent Prayer
Inspired by Joyce Rupp

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
God, open my mind and my heart.
Lift the barriers,
unbind the strong grasp of my demands
when I want everything to go my way.

God reach into my inner space
sweep out all my old clutter,
enlarge my capacity to receive. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
God, empty me of whatever impedes
the growth of our relationship.
Help me to recognize and accept
your sources for my growth.
 
God, soften my resistance to emptying.
May I welcome each inner season
as a catalyst for my transformation. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
O God, deepen my trust in you.
Ease my doubts, fears and discouragements.
When I am feeling vulnerable,
remind me that you are my safe haven.

God, may I be ever more rooted in you.
Draw me into solitude.
Entice me into endless encounters
where I experience oneness with you. 

Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.
O God open the ears of my heart,
May I hear your voice within the silence
as well as within the noise of my life.
Re-awaken me so that I can listen to you
wholeheartedly. 

God of goodness, we yearn to be open and receptive
to your generosity.
May we trust your presence amidst the cycle
of emptying and filling.
Possessions do not feed my spirit. I am liberated from the desire to hoard things.

Remembering My Baptism

Yesterday was Baptism of Jesus Sunday. In some churches, like mine, we remember our own baptisms on this Sunday, which usually means coming forward and taking a pebble out of a bowl of water. I admit, the first time I participated I just didn’t get it. Coming from a Pentecostal background where such things were not observed—along with, and especially, things like Lent—this seemed foreign and meaningless to me.


The change in theology has been refreshing, even welcomed, but I have not always found meaning in some of the practices of my new faith. But, it’s a journey. Interestingly, within the same faith community we are on different journeys as we come from Catholic, Evangelical, Quaker or Pentecostal traditions.

Just before Christmas two years ago my mother died unexpectedly the morning I was leaving for a trip to Germany. It made for a difficult trip but I had visited with her the evening before and now there was nothing more I could do for her. But on this trip I realized how much I am embraced by my faith community through the outpouring of emails and Facebook messages from a continent away.

A month later on Baptism of Jesus Sunday I understood what baptism is about. It’s about being baptized into, and living out baptism within, a faith community. I didn’t realize how much I needed their e-words of comfort. But we more than comfort each other. There’s teaching, leading and inspiring.

Living out my baptism has taken on a whole new meaning among these people. Baptism isn’t something just to check off a list like getting a ticket to Heaven punched. My Quaker sisters and brothers don’t even observe baptism and they are some of the dearest of God’s children. We live out our baptism—or our statement of faith—within community. It challenges us every day to live out the Gospel of healing the sick, embracing the exile, feeding the hungry—and a particular lesson I have learned from, and live out within, my community is sheltering those who are homeless.

So I carry this pebble and remember every time I touch it how this faith community embraces, leads, teaches, challenges and inspires me.