Lent 2021: Explore Playful Practice

“…Lent is a speed bump in the church year, inviting us into reflection, confession, and prayer as we approach Holy Week and Easter, a time when we remember the profound costliness of God’s abundant love for us.” –Susan Phillips, PhD, Executive Director of New College Berkeley

Image by Trevor M from Pixabay

I love the image of Lent, the 40 days before Easter (Sundays not included), as a speed bump. Even in this strange pandemic time when I go nowhere to do nothing and see no one, apparently I’ve still managed to speed my life along and oh wow here comes Lent and – wham – I’ve hit it too fast. I need to slow down. Lent will help.

Often Lent involves giving something up (chocolate) or taking something on (acts of service) as a way of identifying with Jesus as he journeyed toward his crucifixion in Jerusalem. Yet I’m already daily working my habit tracker, and let’s be honest, this has been an unusual year to say the least. Which calls for an unusual response.

Last week when I encountered a list of words related to purpose in writing, three leaped off the page: Explore. Play. Practice. They get along well together, and I believe I will enjoy watching them frolic in the long green grass of this Lenten season. 

I want to Explore. To strike out on an expedition. To take twisty-turning side roads and unexpected paths in the deep forest. At one time I might have felt afraid, but I’m leaving timidity behind. I have confidence that my soul will guide me with yes or no responses along the way. I welcome everything, everyone, every occasion I encounter today, because I trust it will be for my healing.

I’d like to say I’m packing light, but that’s not true. Even if my backpack contains little more than snacks, a sweatshirt, and a flashlight, my head and heart are overstuffed. That’s part of the point, of course: I need to get lost to be found. To empty myself and create space for what may come.

Exploration will tuck new tools into my backpack I didn’t know I’d need. It will fill my eyes with breathtaking sights I could only extrapolate from travel books, imagination, and dreams. It will fill my heart with experiences that amplify my joy. I will encounter prophets and teachers, leaders and fellow pilgrims who swell my love to overflow. I may come home weary and changed. I expect to come home grateful.

I want to Play, and I’ve traveled enough to know that exploration can be hard work and playful, too. In my tendency toward contemplation, I naturally find myself alone, deep in thought, immersed in words – mine or others as I move between writing and reading. It can get a little heavy, and my mental muscles grow weary as my physical muscles grow itchy from sitting too long in our overstuffed recliner.

I need playful movement. I want to skip along new trails, and also to crouch low and watch the fascinating tiny creatures I’d miss otherwise. Maybe I’ll pull out the crayons and draw as I observe them. Maybe I’ll journal with colored pencils. Maybe we’ll find a deck of cards and play together, right there in the woods.

After all, I am walking toward Good Friday, not racing. There’s no rush. I need to move slow enough to remember Jesus, my companion. To walk hand-in-hand, noticing what he points out about this lovely world he made, about my life in this time, about his love for me. What’s coming will be devastating, though not paralyzing: Sunday always comes after Friday; Easter always follows Good Friday. Joy in the morning means I can play joyfully now.

I want to Practice. When I first read Richard Foster’s book Celebration of Discipline in the early 1990s, it was life-changing. Foster advocates for ordinary followers of Jesus, not just spiritual giants, to engage everyday disciplines that help them connect with Jesus and add joy to life in the midst of laundry and lawn-mowing. Disciplines such as meditation and study, simplicity and solitude, confession and celebration. I became something of a spiritual discipline junky, and as I type those words I’m not sure how to feel about being addicted to paths that connect me to God… Is that healthy addiction, or inappropriate metaphor?

Yet these days I find myself substituting “practice” for “discipline.” Discipline feels exacting, harsh, rigid. When I practice yoga, I listen to what my body needs. Some days parts of me feel strong or wobbly, and tomorrow will be different. Some days, certain poses require modification because I can’t bend that way; it hurts, I need props, gentleness, maybe a slight wiggle to ease into place. It’s a practice, not a perfection. And it’s my practice, not up for comparison with others. It’s communal and personal, imperfect and improving. As with physical practice, so goes spiritual practice. Even the wobbles find acceptance so long as I keep at it. The practice itself imparts grace.

I can’t tell you today, on this Ash Wednesday as Lent begins, what this season will hold. I will read and write for sure. I will engage solitude and time with others. It may look a lot like life in any other season. I can tell you, however, that I will listen for whispers of invitation to Explore Playful Practice and follow where they lead.

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Hurry, Boys…

Hurry, Boy, she’s waiting there for you… –Toto, Africa

Click here for a hilarious quick read about how Toto’s ode to Africa became such an unlikely and enduring hit.

 

My Guy, my eldest son, and my brother-in-law are winging their way across the world on an incredible adventure: they are on their way to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.

They left at zero-dark-thirty this morning after no more than a few hours’ sleep, the man-child having left his packing to late the night before departure. The packing list consulted and triple-checked, we think they each have everything they will need and, if not, they’ll have to share.

In the midst of last night’s commotion, BIL asked me how I felt about their endeavor. Honestly, I’m stoked for them. Guy has wanted to make this trek for 20 years, having met their tour leader that long ago. Of the Seven Summits (the tallest peak on each of the seven continents), Kili requires the least technical skill, making it the easiest and  only (or gateway) climb for many. This trip functions as my guys’ birthday party, celebrating in spectacular fashion 50 and 21 trips around the sun.

My travelers are avid outdoors-men and they have, each in their own way, trained for this experience: trail running, hiking, cranking the treadmill to maximum incline while wearing an oxygen-limiting/altitude-simulating mask. They’re as ready as they’ll ever be for the challenge that awaits them.

I am not in the least bit jealous, as I have no desire to push my body to the limit to climb straight up a tall mountain. Not my flavor of jam, not at all. I am, however, thrilled for them for so many reasons. For the shared memory-making. The physical effort and (hopefully) accomplishment, fulfilling a goal they’ve anticipated and worked toward. The myriad experiences of a new culture, sights and sounds, smells and tastes. The people they will meet, those native to Africa and fellow travelers. I anticipate they will come home changed, filled to overflowing with new joys and experiences.

I would love to share the time they will have on safari post-summit, but that will wait for another trip. Meanwhile, I will pray for their safety as I run an endurance race on the home front, making sure the dogs get exercised and fed, and the younger son gets to school on time with homework in hand. Tougher than it sounds, some days, but we’ve trained for this, too.

What adventures would you like to undertake? Personally, I’m hoping for a walking tour somewhere in the world in the next few years.

Feature image credit: Cindy Outlaw, group leader, taken Monday, January 6, 2020