Walking the Lenten journey is traditionally a time of self-discipline. We commonly make a commitment to give up something we enjoy. Common sacrifices are chocolate, coffee, sweets, Facebook, etc. (I personally like to give up rhubarb since I don't enjoy it anyway.) The idea is that we give up something for God. When our desire for the surrendered object stirs - which it always does - we use that desire as a reminder to turn our attention to God. It has become popular in recent years to take on something new rather than to give up something.
Whether we are giving up something or taking on something, the result of the commitment is always the same: struggle. Any attempt to create a new pattern produces struggle. It is an inescapable part of our human condition. At some point, we inevitably struggle to live out our commitment. At some point, we have to exert effort to do what we said we would do. At some point, we have to become very intentional with the discipline. And at some point, we generally fail. We fail to do what we said we would do.
The point of failure is an important - even essential - part of the process. It presents a time of decision. Will we re-embrace our commitment, returning to it, or will we abandon it? Will we continue to pursue change or will we settle back into the comfort of the way things were?
Our struggle to live out our commitment and our failure to do so are the heart of the Lenten discipline. They bring to our attention the central issue of the Lenten journey: our willingness and ability to depend upon God.
It seems to me there is more to our Lenten struggle than meets the eye. On the surface, the struggle is about change. It is about doing something new. It is, in our minds, about self-discipline and self-effort. But beneath the surface, our struggle is about our ego. Specifically, our struggle is about crucifying our ego so that it dies.
Jesus taught, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?" (Mark 8:34-37).
We tie our discipline of giving up something to the phrase in this text "deny themselves." But Jesus spoke of something far different from giving up something we enjoy for Lent. He spoke of a way of life. The way to life, he said, was the cross. The way to life was dying. Jesus spoke of dying to live.
Dying to live - therein is the heart of our struggle. And not just of our Lenten struggle, but of our spiritual journey.
The cross was a Roman instrument of death reserved for insurrectionists. They crucified those who challenged the authority of Rome. To take up our cross is to reject the ways of the world. It is to reject merit-based thinking that deals in deserving. It is to reject the way of domination in which power is used for personal benefit at another's expense. It is to reject hierachical ways of thinking and living. It is to reject us-them thinking that divides the world into those like me and those who are not. It is to reject fear-based, anxiety-driven living. It is to reject the self-serving, self-reliant spirit that underlies the ways of the world because it is inherent in our human condition.
To take up our cross is to follow Jesus.
To take up our cross is to learn from Jesus the ways of God. It is to embrace grace-based thinking and living. It is to use power to serve others, seeking their good, even at great cost to self. It is to view and value, accept and embrace all as beloved children of God. It is to embrace the spirit of a servant in the core of my being.
To take up our cross is to join Jesus in living the ways of the Kingdom.
And taking up our cross means dying to our ego. We cannot live the ways of God that Jesus taught out of our ego-based identity. That sense of who we are must die if we are to live out of a servant spirit. That's what Jesus meant when he spoke of saving and losing our life.
Our ego-based identity is our sense of who we are that was shaped by the world. It is a sense of self that is based on achieving and performing. It is a sense of self fashioned out of conforming to the expectations of others, particularly the expectations of the community in which we grew up (the world). It is a sense of self chiseled out of measuring up to (or failing to measure up to ) the standards and codes and laws of that social environment. It is a sense of identity that is based on comparisons. We compare ourselves to others, particularly to those who are not like us and to those who fail to measure up as successfully we do.
Our ego-based identity is driven by deep-seated fear and anxiety. We are afraid of being rejected and abandoned, of being inadequate and not measuring up, of being no good and less than, and of being hurt. We are particularly afraid of being inadequate. If we are inadequate, if we don't measure up, then that means we are no good. If we are no good, we will not be valued. If we are not valued, then we will not have a place in our social environment. We will be rejected and abandoned. Pain and hurt will be our lot. Deep-seated fear and anxiety shore up our fragile ego-based identity.
Our ego-based identity is a merit-based identity. It is patterned after the ways of the world. It is crafted through self-effort and self-reliance.
Ego-based identities are on full display in the lives of young children. They call out "look at me, Mommy" and insist "I can do it myself!" Even at this young age, their lives are being shaped by the attention and approval of others, based on what they can do through their own self-effort. Such ego-based identities are fed as the various social environments through which they pass recognize and reward those who achieve while ignoring and shaming those who do not. As we get older, we learn to be more subtle with our ego-based identities less we be criticized for being arrogant or too full of ourselves. We learn to push our ego-based identities underground while continuing to feed them and live out of them. Out of sight, out of mind ... that is, until we walk the Lenten journey and encounter the struggles of our Lenten discipline. The struggles of our Lenten journey point to the limits of our ability and self-effort. Deep down, our Lenten struggles are really with this ego-based identity, crafted through our self-effort and self-reliance by conforming to the expectations of the world.
Jesus taught this ego-based identity, fashioned after the thinking of the world, has to die if we are to live. We have to discover a new identity.
This new identity, this new sense of who we are is our true self. It is who God created us to be, not who the world created us to be. It is our unique self ... the self that no one else can ever be. It is who we are deep within. It consists of our gifts and abilities coupled with our passions and interests ... all of which are gifts given to us when God fashioned us in our mother's womb. It is the self we discover when we let go of the ego-based self we crafted through self-effort and self-reliance. It is the self that is released when we follow Jesus. It is the self that blossoms when we give ourselves to living the ways of the Kingdom.
The Lenten journey we walk, with its struggles and failures, is not really about self-discipline. It is far more than giving up something or taking on something. Such things only feed the ego-based self. At it core, the Lenten journey is about dying to the ego-based self ... so that we might live. The Lenten journey is about dying to live.
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