CREEDE HINSHAW: The ruthlessness of Lent

Lent involves ruthlessness. If that statement is off-putting, consider the Apostle Paul, who wrote, “I pommel my body and subdue it, lest that after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” (1 Corinthians 9:27) Paul held himself to high standards of faithfulness in order to serve God in the present age and to be received and welcomed by God in the age to come. That which he expected of the church he first demanded of himself.

While I appreciate the efforts of those who have “added” something to their life in Lent (love, kindness, generosity, etc.), there is much inherently commendable in the Pauline effort of ridding oneself of negative habits, sinful thoughts, wayward notions, and undisciplined faithfulness.

Last week I wrote that my discipline involves two simple denials: (1) I will drive only in the slow lane for six weeks. (2) I will listen to no music or radio in the car. Every auto trip becomes an opportunity to be more observant, more prayerful, and perhaps more perceptive of God’s will.

But I am discovering again this year how very devious I can be when it comes to circumventing these vows. And I suspect I am not the only one.

This week, while driving to complete a minor mission of mercy, I found myself behind a pulpwood truck behind another pulpwood truck behind a third pulpwood truck. Wanting desperately to pass those three creeping turtles, in a flash the perfect justification came: “I am on a mission of mercy. God will understand if I break this vow just once.” Somehow I resisted, but my unbidden craftiness stung.

“Did God really say you couldn’t eat the fruit of that tree?” Why couldn’t Adam and Eve remain obedient? The answer was becoming clearer.

Later the same day, intending to access an interstate via a gentle right turn onto an on-ramp, I ran into another devilish justification for contravening my vow, this one more subtle than the last. From the opposite direction crept a clunky rental truck, also headed onto the on ramp. Furthermore, he had the right of way because of a green turn arrow. Faster than a speeding bullet it occurred to me that I could floor my gas pedal and jump ahead of that truck to avoid crawling along behind him down Interstate 75.

My right foot twitched and my devious mind spun out the justification: “You will not be breaking any Lenten vow,” I heard myself saying. “I made no promises about on-ramps. I am entirely justified in cutting ahead of this slow-motion truck before he reaches the slow lane.” Only by the greatest exertion of will power was I able to overcome such obvious deviousness.

I am not even close to reaching Paul’s level of self-discipline, and frankly am not sure I want to get there. But keeping a Lenten discipline helps one re-learn that following Jesus involves sacrifice. Some sacrifices are harder, more severe and more important than others. But each one gives us strength to become more faithful.