A Lenten Reflection

I wrote this reflection for my local church as a part of a Lenten Devotional booklet. It was written for Wednesday, April 4, 2007, but actually it applies to any day.

Scripture Texts:
Psalm 27: 13 I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 14 Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

Philippians 4: 5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

It is four days until Easter Sunday. Not so long. But also, not tomorrow. Four days can be an eternity when darkness is closing in, when hope is dim, when pain is pulsating through one’s body, when loneliness or depression seem to create a hollowness inside that could lead to this fragile vessel’s collapse from outward pressures. How long will it be for me until Easter Day, and can I go on until the resurrection comes?

For some of us, each day is a test. It is the time of wilderness wanderings rather than a time of joyfully skipping down the path of life. Everyone goes though such times, sometime. And for some of you, this is your time. So if that is where you find yourself this day, four days before Easter, there is need to just get through today. How does one do that?

The prophet Habukkuk wondered if he could go on. He wrote, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you "Violence!" and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble?” (Hab. 1:2-3)

In my lifetime, Martin Luther King, Jr. knew that his people were growing weary in their journey. And so he urged them to keep on believing. In 1965 in Montgomery, Alabama, just three months before I graduated from high school in Mississippi, King gave a speech titled “Our God is Marching On.” He said,

And so I plead with you this afternoon as we go ahead: remain committed to nonviolence. . . .

I know you are asking today, "How long will it take?" Somebody's asking,"How long will prejudice blind the visions of men, darken their understanding, and drive right-eyed wisdom from her sacred throne?"

Somebody's asking, "When will wounded justice, lying prostrate on the streets of Selma and Birmingham and communities all over the South, be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men?"

Somebody's asking, "When will the radiant star of hope be plunged against the nocturnal bosom of this lonely night, plucked from weary souls with chains of fear and the manacles of death? How long will justice be crucified, and truth bear it?"

I come to say to you this afternoon, however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because "truth crushed to earth will rise again."

How long? Not long, because "no lie can live forever."

How long? Not long, because "you shall reap what you sow."

How long? Not long

Over the last four and a half years, my dear wife’s Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease has moved her into a deeper and deeper reality of her own. The past is present only in remnants. The future is beyond her capacity to consider. Even the conversation of a moment ago is quickly lost in the fog, and there is no need to talk about what will happen in an hour’s time because that information can’t be retained. So that leaves this very present moment. My Linda has become an instrument of transformation for me. I am constantly learning and re-learning how to live in this present moment.

And in this moment I go back to the words of the Psalmist and affirm this direct affirmation of faith. “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” Yes, this is what I believe. God’s goodness is present in this moment in my life. And when I apply this belief to this moment, I experience the goodness of the Lord. I taste it. I know it and I am able to go on. How long? I do not know. But as each moment flows into another moment, there seems to be enough strength and courage to keep going.

And Paul tells me in his letter to the Philippians just how to go on. Go gently. Don’t worry. Be prayerful . . . and thankful. Remember the Lord is near. And the peace of God, which is beyond my understanding…beyond the regions of just the human brain, will guard my heart and mind. And then . . . yes, and then, even though I may not notice that time has moved on a few days, then Easter will come. How long? Not long. For in each day now, the Lord is near, and that means Easter is already here. Hallelujah! Amen.

Prayer: Lord of the journey, when I am tempted to quit, help me remember that when the tide is lowest, it is just about to turn. Remind me that even in this moment I can see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Help me embrace your grace in this moment as I continue toward Easter with hope. In the name of Jesus, Amen.