Having grown up attending a church that had little to no emphasis on fasting, Ash Wednesday, or the season of Lent, I’ve grown to approach this season with anticipation and trepidation at the same time. I appreciate the recognition of the passage of time toward Good Friday and Easter. After all, the celebration of Easter seems much more celebratory after going through a period of Lenten preparation. While we know that the Gospel message is “Good News,” we are much more aware of the “Goodness” of the News after having been reminded of the sinfulness of our condition before the news. We can’t celebrate the empty grave without being reminded of the cruel cross, nor should we attempt to short-circuit the season of prayer, fasting, and preparation.
In one of my favorite quotes by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, he says, “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without discipline, communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”
On the other hand, I approach Lent with trepidation because I don’t want to go through that soul-searching. I don’t want to examine myself and spend time in corporate and individual soul searching. I hesitate to allow God’s searchlight to shine upon my heart, fearful of what might be found there. Our litany of corporate confession which we pray each year on Ash Wednesday reminds me that I have not always exhibited perfect love toward my neighbor or my enemy, and that there have been times when I have failed to give God ALL of my heart, mind, soul, and strength. I know that I have not preached the Gospel to the ends of the earth, there have been times when I’ve failed at living in Christian community and fellowship, and I’m not always the best disciple or discipler. In short, Ash Wednesday reminds me of what we studied Sunday Morning—none of us are capable, on our own, of perfectly completing the two Great Assignments that Jesus left for us.
I also get skittish about Ash Wednesday because I don’t like being reminded of my own mortality. That whole “dust you are, and to dust you shall return,” just serves to remind me that nothing I do on this earth for myself will last. Only what is done for the Kingdom of God has any real value. I’m reminded that things like trucks that don’t work right really shouldn’t consume my energy or attention the way that it does…but that the things I think I own are really just things—and they really belong to God anyway.
We find ourselves not enjoying Lent as much because Lent is about giving things up and self-denial. Whether we give up some type of food or bad habit—or strive to add extra devotional time to our lives through our study of “The Quest,” lent reminds us that the Christian life is not about fulfilling our own wants and desires. Kingdom living is not about meeting my needs, but about following Jesus all the way to the cross that I might have new life.
There’s also the temptation to pat ourselves on the back because we’re striving to observe a Holy Lent. This morning I had opportunity to be with some brothers and sisters who had already had ashes imposed on their foreheads, and I found myself wishing that I had already had this service so I could stand in solidarity with them. I found myself wishing that they knew I was going to have ashes put on my forehead as well. But I guess that kind of defeats the whole purpose of an Ash Wednesday service. We don’t have ashes put on our forehead or hand to broadcast to everyone else that we are fasting or praying. We have ashes imposed for our own benefit—to remind us that we are mortal and that we are in constant need of God’s grace in our lives. Ashes remind us that without outside help, we are without hope.
We recognize that we are in great danger of improperly keeping a fast or praying. Jesus offers instructions about prayer and fasting in our Gospel lesson. We are reminded to not put on a show or to do our fasting for the praise of men. The words of Isaiah that we just heard are pretty harsh toward the Israelites who had failed to properly fast, and had turned the fast into an empty ritual that did not change the way in which they lived. And so, we might be tempted to avoid prayer and fasting altogether. Indeed, I think that’s probably the approach that was taken by the church I grew up in. We are so afraid that we might improperly fast that we ignore the fact that Jesus said, “when you pray,” and “when you fast,” and “when you give.” He didn’t say “if,” He said “when.” In Matthew chapter six, Jesus is speaking with the assumption that we are praying, we are fasting, and we are giving. It does not appear to be an option.
In the prophecy that Isaiah was given to preach to the Israelites, God’s complaint was not that they fasted. It was that their fasts were empty, for they did not change their lives. They began to wonder why God did not hear them when they prayed and fasted. They questioned why God did not notice that they had humbled themselves—probably tearing their clothes and wearing ashes on their entire bodies. God replied with these words in verse three:
“Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers. Your fasting ends in quarrelling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists. You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high.”
If we are to keep the sort of fast that God desires for us, it cannot simply be about self-denial and prayer. Those acts will be empty if we fail to change the way in which we live. If we gather together in prayer, hoping that everyone else around will hear our prayer and change, we have sinned. If we put ashes on our forehead or hand in hopes that someone else will be convicted of their sin, then we have sinned.
We long for revival in our church, in our community, across our state, and throughout our country. But all too often we are willing to point fingers at others and expect revival to start with them. We are all to willing to pray that God would convict someone else, without first asking Him to convict us. We long for a sweeping revival, as long as that means everyone else has to change, and we get to stay the same.
Israel longed for a revival of their own. Exiled in Babylon, they longed for God to revive them and return them to their own land and rebuild the walls and the temple. They were more broken then we could possibly imagine, and they desperately wanted some sort of revival that would make them whole. But our lesson in Isaiah seems to indicate that they were willing to pray for it, but not willing to make the necessary changes in their own life to see it happen.
It’s easy to give up chocolate for Lent….or coffee…or television…or any other sort of thing that might distract us from God. It’s easy to give an extra hour each week to attend prayer group and ask God to send revival. It’s even easy to put an extra dollar in the offering plate and ask God to meet the deficit reduction. But here’s when it gets hard. It gets hard when it means that we have to change and do something different than what we’ve always done. It gets hard when we keep the sort of holy fast which God-through Isaiah—commanded the Israelites to keep:
“to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? To share your food with the hungry, to provide the poor wanderer with shelter, and to clothe the naked.” More then sending money to missions, keeping this kind of fast means that we go out of our comfort zone—that we look for needs in our community and do everything within our power to meet those needs.
Then, we will truly begin to see revival and healing in our land. When we each, as individuals and as a church body, look for ways to be God’s ambassadors to a hurting world, then will His Kingdom begin to break forth and we will see the revival for which we have been praying. Here’s what will happen when we keep that sort of a fast:
“Then your light will break forth like the dawn and your healing will quickly appear; your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard…. You will be like a well-watered garden, a spring whose waters never fail…. You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.”
That’s what I want to be called—a Repairer of Broken Walls and a Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. I want to be an agent of grace and healing in our broken world. I want to see needs and meet them. I want to see God’s Kingdom be established in our midst. I want revival to begin—Lord, let it begin with me—let it begin with us.
I know that I can’t do that on my own. I can’t even do it just because you’re willing to help me in the task. We can only do it because of God’s grace at work in our lives. We experience that grace when we realize our own mortality and our own brokenness. We are empowered by God’s grace when we confess our own dependence upon Him, when we recognize that we need Him in our lives.
That’s what the celebration of the Table is all about. It’s about gathering together for forgiveness and for nourishment. When we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Here, at this table, God meets us and gives us strength for the journey. When we come by faith remembering the death and resurrection of Jesus, we open ourselves to God’s grace in our lives.
Then, and only then, can we be “Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us.”
I invite you then, to observe a Holy Lent. Whether you observe it by fasting and self denial, by prayer, or by daily meditation, I invite you to observe a Holy Lent—one empowered by the Spirit of God, in which you seek out the poor, the sick, the lost, the naked, the tired, the weary, and do all that is in your power to meet their physical needs, so you might introduce them to the One who can meet their spiritual needs. Then, we may look to see revival in our midst—our healing will quickly appear, and we will be called Repairers of Broken Walls and Restorers of Streets with Dwellings.
In a moment, I will invite you to join me here at this table—it is God’s Table—it is His feast. You are invited to come in faith, if you believe that Christ is the Son of God and that He died for the forgiveness of your sins. You are invited to come and receive spiritual food for the journey ahead.
Let us pray.
Benediction: The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord have mercy and compassion on you. The Lord enfold you in His love and give you peace. Amen.
