sending the rich away empty

This past couple of weeks or so I've been straining against the confines of my 'diet' - perhaps more so because the end is closer than it has been for ages (what a surprise).  At home it is fairly easy to adapt, once you've changed around your store cupboard and learned alternative recipes, but a diet that is both yeast free and dairy free is a challenge when out at an event or visiting someone.  Sorry, no, I can't have that.  No, sorry, I can't have that either.  It can actually get rather awkward. Plus I end up sitting around with my tummy rumbling and my waistband getting so loose you could perch a sizeable kitten in it (not that I'd want to).

Coincidentally, the 'end' of this exclusion diet will be around Easter itself - although re-introduction will be deliberately slow.  It will feel like coming to the end to a Lenten fast - except it's lasted six months instead of 40 days.  It's not been a fast for that kind of reason, of course, and I shouldn't tell you if I had been 'fasting' in this way.

Interesting tangent - should Christians even ask each other what we're giving up for Lent?  Didn't Jesus say we weren't to draw attention the the fact?  Fascinating to reflect on this, and may consider it at a later date.  In the meantime, I will steer myself back on course, because what I have to say is important (gosh).

Despite not fasting for this kind of reason, nonetheless my diet of denial keeps reminding me of the sheer luxury and amount of our food we have in our culture.  The array of food lined up as refreshments at events, party food, dining out, cookery books and culinary programmes - what new taste can we find?  Who is the best chef, anyway?

We have so much.  As I consider this, the words from Mary's song leap into my mind -

He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. - Luke 1:53

That's God's way; that's good news. His is the way we don't expect, defying predictability, turning everything around.

We are so rich.  Many have no choice as to what they eat - or even if they eat.  Rumbly tummies and minor hunger pangs are nothing compared to the sufferings of those who struggle to eat once a day.  Are we, as the body of Christ, as representatives of the good news, enacting the kingdom principles of the first being last, of the poor being blessed, of the hungry being filled?

Last week I attended a public talk at which I heard the following statistic. I wrote it down and stared at it, underlining it as if I needed convincing further.

Annually, 850 million people suffer from being malnourished, while 1 billion are clinically ill from obesity. 


The extreme is gut-wrenching.

• He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty.

• 850 million people suffer from being malnourished, while 1 billion are clinically ill from obesity. 

Everything is the wrong way round when compared to the pattern of the kingdom.  And we cannot escape it; we cannot profess ignorance.  In a culture where our communities are vast and our networks worldwide, can we really exist in our little bubble of plenty and assume we'll get a pat on the back and a smile?

My disappointment at not being able to eat a cupcake is laughable.



Image:  BBC Good Food website

outstretched

Lord, I believe - help my unbelief.
I come with outstretched hands,
so aware of their trembling -
knowing their frailty and their
cruelty, their tenderness and
their thoughtlessness.

Awash with the awareness
of all that needs changing
within me, and asking you
to work another miracle in me,
transforming and moulding,
making me sparkle again.

Take all that is broken and
wrong; cleanse the muddy
and the murky, the feeble
and the false, and all
my unwillingness to make
an effort to change.

I turn around,
turn my face towards you.
Forgive. Restore. Renew.
Create in me a pure heart
as I follow this path, learning
to be your disciple.

What are you taking up for Lent?

Lent begins next week. Sometimes I miss the beginning entirely, swamped by 'things' and trivialities. I want to mark it, observe it, but I easily forget it. As for giving things up -well, sometimes I do, but not always. I feel it can become a bit too automatic. Lent = giving something up. I always want to think about the why - or the because. If I give something up 'because it's Lent' it can feel somewhat dreary and unimpressive. I want to be reminded of the greater why, the greater because. I want to think about journey, about discipleship, about re-focusing my mind.

But sometimes I think I need to set myself the opposite challenge - not to give something up but to take something up. To introduce a new discipline, a new way of constructing my days, a new way of thinking about things. This could be exploring other traditions - looking at the 'liturgy of the hours', marking time with prayer and reflection. It could be simply determining to create space for something I feel I am neglecting - and trying to foster and encourage a new spirituality, a new focus. And if I do give something up - who benefits?

I suspect that many of us in giving up something are doing it for our own benefit. Lent becomes a useful tool, a backdrop, for something we want to deal with anyway. It gives us an added edge, a more enforced discipline. But what do we do with the time we save by giving up, say, computer games? Or the money we save by not buying chocolate? (Two fairly common examples). Do we simply fritter away the saved time or money on other things, other treats? Or do we think - i want to take the me-ness out of this and add other-ness, God-ness even.



Water Aid have been running a Lent campaign where they suggest that people get together and save up 'jars of change' - the money they would have been spending on whatever it is they've given up. This money goes towards safe and accessible water for the world's communities.  Their website has plenty of resources available to use.


What about time? Time saved to be spent discovering more and different ways of reading the bible, trying to engage with it. This can be individual, but doing it together can really help inspire and challenge us. What about taking a look at the Biblefresh initiative?

Biblefresh is a movement of churches, agencies, organisations, colleges and festivals which has a vision to reignite and re-enthuse the church in its passion for the Bible. For many in our churches the Bible has become tedious and toxic rather treasured, trusted and true. The aim of the Biblefresh initiative is to encourage a greater confidence and passion for Scripture across the Church.

- http://www.biblefresh.com/get-involved

So, am I giving anything up? As I'm already cutting out dairy and yeast from my diet, this kind of giving up is a little over familiar at the moment.  I expect I will try and give up some time wasting elements in my life, but I want to be able to use that 'extra' time wisely and well.

So for that reason I am asking myself this question:

What are you taking up for Lent?

***

Update: for some reason my reader comments had been disallowed for this post.  Please feel free to make up for it! 

the temporary and the eternal

As part of my writing research I have been looking at origins and meanings of the church year.  This, amid all the other various topics!  So it makes sense for me to note and recognise the beginning of Lent. 

What am I giving up?  Wasting unnecessary time on the computer.  It's a common one these days it seems - I wonder if it is in the top 10, as is, presumably, chocolate? So much can swallow our time and our energy - needless distractions, trying to numb our minds.  It strikes me we do not have a clear idea of healthy relaxation, less inclination to spend time with God and ourselves - prayer and meditation feeling heavy, even alien, in a bitesize culture. 

Lent - put in place as a time of preparation for those to be baptized on Easter Sunday, and interestingly, a time for those who had been 'excluded' temporarily from the church as a time of penitence - leading towards restoration.  Preparation and penitence.  Hardly fashionable words.

We exhaust ourselves with the trivial, and so the meaningful feels slow and onerous.  Quietness and trust are nice in sentiment but difficult to apply.

I say this without agenda.  I merely reflect on the reality of my life in this world.  That it is so easy to weary ourselves with the unimportant, that we never get round to addressing the things of real matter.  We long for meaning, and waste our time on meaninglessness.  We forget what is temporary and what is eternal, not understanding the latter has a far deeper enchantment, if we would only choose it.

I long - pray - that my heart would be a willing one - willing to learn, to hear, to think, to inspire, to go deeper.

Not merely to pass the time.

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Image from stock.xchg