Lent Calls
Commentary
Today marks the beginning of Lent. In some churches, that is a nearly meaningless designation. In others, it is a deliberately cherished season. Whatever your setting, Ash Wednesday is an opportunity to get the Lenten season off to a worthy start.
C.S. Lewis compares the seasons of the church year to the seasons of nature’s year. His imaginary demon, Screwtape, observes that God “has balanced the love of change in (human beings) by a love of permanence. He has contrived to gratify both tastes together in the very world He has made, by that union of change and permanence which we call Rhythm. He gives them the seasons, each season different yet every year the same... He gives them in His Church a spiritual year; they change from a fast to a feast, but it is the same feast as before.”1
Of course, not everyone has a sense of rhythm. And in the case of what Lewis calls the “spiritual year,” a sense of rhythm almost certainly needs to be cultivated in many of our people. The broader culture offers us some mixed assistance with the Christmas season, of course. Lent, however, goes generally unnoticed, apart from certain dubious traditions surrounding the day before the beginning of Lent.
But on Ash Wednesday, Lent calls. Its sound is quite different from the Christmas season, the festivity of which we can still hear echoing faintly from not many weeks back. But this is the next movement in the rhythm of the church year, the next season, complete with its own distinctive climate and beauty.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
The prophet Joel is generally regarded as one of the judgment prophets, though we know less about him than most of the others. In most instances, we have a sense of the prophet’s time and place. We have a sense for when and where his ministry took place. Joel’s book, however, contains too few clues within the text to help us be certain about his setting and audience. Even without the benefit of context, however, Joel’s message is clear.
A recurring theme within the larger book of Joel is prominent within our selection. The prospect of “the day of the Lord” is central to Joel’s message, though his portrait of that day is not monolithic. Elsewhere in the book, Joel anticipates that day as an occasion of the outpouring of God’s Spirit (Joel 2:28ff). Centuries later, Joel’s words become essential to Peter’s understanding and explanation of the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2:14-21). In the early part of our passage, however, the “day” is not so desirable.
As with the prophet Amos (see, for example, Amos 5:18-20), Joel finds it necessary to disabuse his people of their rosy notion of the day of the Lord. Amos warned that it would be “a day of darkness, not light.” And Joel, likewise, anticipates a day “of darkness and gloom... clouds and thick darkness!”
Broadly speaking, the day of the Lord was understood as that occasion when God would step into history and set things right. That’s good news, of course, if you are on the underside of the world’s injustice and oppression. It’s good news if you are awaiting vindication and liberation. But if a person is part of the problem that needs to be solved, then the day of the Lord is not something to be anticipated. The surgeon’s scalpel is good news for the patient, not the cancer. And so, too, whether the day of the Lord is good news depends upon who you are and what role you are playing relative to God’s will and purpose.
We noted that Joel is among the judgment prophets. Yet even though their primary message is judgment and thus their primary tone is harsh, judgment is not God’s primary will. Quite the contrary. The judgment messages are meant to be warnings that inspire repentance and reform. So it is that, even after the ominous news about the darkness of the day of the Lord, the redemptive invitation is extended: “Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart.”
Then Joel goes on to express in beauty the sort of good news that we don’t necessarily associate with the judgment prophets of the Old Testament. The Lord “is gracious and merciful,” Joel declares, “slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”
Once Ebenezer Scrooge had been frightened by glimpses of the future, he asks whether they are shadows of things that must be or things that might be. In other words, is there any hope, or has the die already been cast? We know from the happy ending of Charles Dickens’ famous story that there was still hope.
So, too, for the people of Joel’s audience. The glimpse of the future day of the Lord was terrible, but not inevitable. And so the people are called to repent. It is a solemn assembly, where the people cry out to God, “Spare your people!” And they do so with the trust that he is slow to anger and relents from punishing.
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Corinth seems to have been Paul’s problem church. About ten percent of the chapters in the New Testament belong to the Corinthian correspondence. And many of those chapters are devoted to answering questions, addressing problems, and mending the breaks in their relationship.
In the case of 2 Corinthians, it seems that Paul is having to compete for the Corinthians’ devotion and respect with intruders that he sarcastically refers to as “super apostles” (e.g., 11:5). As part of the larger pattern of spiritual immaturity -- or misplaced sense of spiritual maturity -- the Corinthians were being impressed by the wrong things. And while Paul admitted that he felt like a fool for playing their game, he knew that he would still win at that game. And so, in 2 Corinthians, we get to read a good deal of biographical information about Paul as he shares his resume with the folks in Corinth.
Paul shares more details later (see 11:22-28), but he makes initial, broad references here. Interestingly, Paul’s metrics of serving Christ are not the numerical ones that so fascinate and impress us in our day. He does not reel off the number of churches planted, number of members added, number of resources produced, conferences attended, or dollars raised. He does not boast of expanded programming, novel ideas, or new buildings.
Paul’s example in writing to the Corinthians reminds us that there are a wide variety of ways to measure success. What is your favorite measure? What metric tends to impress (or, for that matter, depress) you.
Paul’s measure is faithfulness. His expressions of faithfulness come in several forms, which we will take a few moments to explore. All together, they are a profound example for us.
The first order of business is “putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry.” That last phrase may send a chill up some spines, for we know folks along the way who have found plenty of fault with our ministries! Yet we must not confuse the weighty thing Paul is saying with mere criticisms and complaints. Paul was criticized -- even opposed. Yet still he functioned unapologetically, knowing within himself that he had conducted himself without fault. Let us not walk on eggshells as people-pleasers and then think our ministry is faultless because no one complains. No, the certainty of whether we are faultless or not lies within ourselves, not in our approval ratings.
The key issue for that faultless ministry is, as we noted above, faithfulness. And that faithfulness might be divided into four broad categories. First, there is faithfulness in the midst of all sorts of circumstances. Second, there is the faithfulness that manifests itself in Christian character. Third, there is faithfulness in relation to other people. And, finally, there is the faithfulness that comes as paradoxes.
The first form of faithfulness is identified with endurance. Paul makes a quick, unelaborated list here of the sorts of sufferings that he had experienced along the way. Any single one of his experiences -- a beating, an imprisonment, a riot, a night without sleep or a day without food -- would be a major headline in my life or yours. It’s the story we would tell again and again. And it might be the experience that would prompt us want to question the fairness of God or make us want to quit. Yet Paul takes such undesirable experiences for granted. They are settings that call for faithfulness, and that faithfulness looks like endurance.
Then Paul shifts to a different sort of list. Now he is enumerating not experiences but attributes. Purity, patience, kindness, genuine love, truth speech, and such. Real faithfulness in the service of Christ is more than just gritting our teeth and bearing up under the previously mentioned burdens. No, there is a Christlikeness of spirit and style that is meant to mark our lives and service. Faithfulness is not merely what we do, but how we do it.
Next, Paul turns his attention to the faithfulness that is interpersonal. It would often be an easier thing to serve Christ in a vacuum, without the complexities that come with human relationships. But that, of course, would be contrary to the spirit of Christ and the purposes of God. And so we are called to be faithful within those complexities, which include both “honor and dishonor,” both “ill repute and good repute.”
Finally, that mixed-bag quality of our experiences in human relationships prompts Paul to explore the paradoxes that come from being faithful to Christ. “Treated as imposters, and yet true” is merely an extension of Christ’s own experience in this world. Likewise, “poor, yet making many rich” sounds like the saving work of Christ in his condescension, incarnation, and crucifixion. And “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” should remind us of the truths Jesus teaches in the Beatitudes. In short, faithfulness to God’s kingdom in the context of this world is inevitably going to be a paradoxical experience.
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
“Beware of practicing your piety before others,” Jesus said, “in order to be seen by them.” Evidently it was the practice of some people to turn religious faith into performance art. Their fasting, their almsgiving, their praying was done with ulterior motives. The time and place of their piety was arranged with an audience in mind.
When I was perhaps eight years old, our family hosted a Catholic priest for dinner. Even though I was the son of a clergyman, still this guest seemed very special to me. After dinner, but while everyone was still sitting at the dining room table conversing, I excused myself to get something from my room. I returned with my worksheet from my Sunday School class, which I proceeded to complete while sitting there at the table.
I’m not sure that I ever gave a moment’s attention to one of those worksheets either before or after that night. On that particular occasion, however, with our special guest watching, I was uniquely motivated to be a model Sunday school student. I was practicing my piety before another in order to be seen by him.
I don’t suppose that the Lord looked unkindly upon my childish behavior. Such childishness is less excusable now, however, as an adult. And Jesus’ target audience was certainly adults.
The question is whether Jesus’ “beware” is a relevant warning in our day. Do we still live in a culture where acts of religiosity are applauded? Are we still at risk of being pious to please the crowd?
I doubt that there are many street corners in America where standing and praying aloud would be widely admired. Perhaps that sort of thing is not a temptation for us and for our people. But trying to impress others and win their approval is a temptation that never changes, regardless of time and place. And at that level, Jesus’ words still prove to be a sharp challenge to us.
So let us set aside for a moment the public praying and conspicuous fasting, which may not be much practiced or much admired in our day. Turn the question around and ask, What is it that we do instead? What might we do in order to impress others? What is applauded and admired by the folks who surround us? What good deeds do we do with ulterior motives? How do we live differently because we are being observed than we would if we lived life without spectators?
The specifics may be somewhat different than they were for Jesus’ original audience, but the underlying temptation remains fundamentally the same. And so does the solution. The solution is in living for “your Father who is in secret.”
I am reminded of the phenomenon that I have seen with each of my children along the way. Whether on a playground, in a swimming pool, riding a bike, or playing in the yard, during a certain phase of his or her life, the child is constantly calling out, “Daddy, watch! Mommy, look at me!” Nothing gives them more pleasure than to show their parents what they can do and to feel their parents’ pride.
I expect that phenomenon persists throughout the years of a healthy parent-child relationship. It may not always be as overt as the youngster in the swimming pool, but we continue to want our parents to see our accomplishments and to know that they are proud of us. And Jesus invites us to live that out at the highest level.
I may not always have a human audience around me. I certainly won’t always please all of them. But my heavenly Father always sees me, and I do well to live in a conscious effort to please him -- and only him!
Application
Perhaps some of your members grew up in a time and place when the church bells rang to summon folks to services. For our purposes this Ash Wednesday, we want to hear not so much the sound of bells as the sound of a trumpet. The trumpets of the Old Testament prophet Joel summon us. They call us to Lent.
As we noted above, the season of Lent begins by being very meaningful to some of our folks and entirely foreign to others. Whatever our background, though, it is certain to be profitable anytime we set aside some season in a deliberate way for spiritual reflection and growth. And our selected passages offer us the guidelines for a meaningful and impactful Lenten season. So, let us hear three ways that Lent calls to us.
First, there is the call to repentance. This is the central issue for Joel’s audience. In moments of sensitivity and clarity, we catch glimpses of the holiness of God and, in turn, we recognize more profoundly our own sinfulness. The proper response is not despair or self-loathing. The proper response is to repent, and to do so with the confidence that we are actually responding to the God who calls us to return to him. He is the one who invites, who welcomes, who forgives, and who redeems. Our repentance, therefore, is the way we come running to enjoy the cleansing and the freedom for which we deeply long.
The second call of Lent is Paul’s call to faithfulness. He modeled it before the Christians in Corinth, and we are the beneficiaries of their correspondence. While our situations may not be as dramatic as the apostle’s, the need for faithfulness within our circumstances is just as great. And so we take his example and instruction as our call to renew our sense of faithfulness right where we are.
And, finally, the third call is Jesus’ call to simple living. I don’t mean simple in the sense of fewer gadgets or a less busy schedule. I mean simple in orientation. Rather than serving a dozen masters, I am invited to serve One. Rather than living to please countless persons, I live to please One. Jesus’ teaching on doing whatever we do for our Father who sees us -- for his approval and his reward -- is an invitation to rise above all our lesser allegiances. And it is a liberation to know that my daily task is to live for the One Person who actually knows me better than anyone else and loves me more than anyone else. That’s a great assignment!
Let your people hear Lent calling this Ash Wednesday -- calling us, in every respect, closer to God.
Alternative Application(s)
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 -- “Trumpet Voluntary”
The prophet Joel plays the part of a composer in our selected Old Testament lection. For Ash Wednesday, he prepares a piece for two trumpets. In verse 1, he issues a call to “blow the trumpet in Zion.” And in verse 15, he points to the trumpet section again, saying, “Blow the trumpet in Zion.”
The two trumpet pieces are of two different types. The first piece is meant to sound like an alarm. The second, by contrast, is designed to “call a solemn assembly.” And the two musical movements represent two different spiritual movements, as well.
The warnings of the Old Testament prophets sound harsh to us, but in reality they are a mercy. Think of the smoke alarm in your house. Is the sound a pleasing one? Not at all. Yet that sound could save your life.
So the first trumpet movement sounds like a warning: a dire and frightening prospect of what is to come. But just as the smoke alarm is designed to prompt your escape, so, too, is the warning trumpet required by God. And the escape route, in this case, is to repent.
“Return to me with all your heart,” the Lord says. It is a gracious invitation extended to recalcitrant sinners. And it is worth noting that God’s will and our instinct point in opposite directions at this point. In the wake of our sin, you see, in the midst of our guilt and shame, our reflex is to run away from him. That’s what Adam and Eve did. But that is heading the wrong direction, for even in our filth, his desire is that we should come to him.
Then comes the second trumpet. It is the same instrument, but a different sound. This is not the sound of urgent warning but of solemn convocation. If the first trumpet is like our contemporary smoke alarm, the second is like the church bell of an earlier generation. We hear it, and we recognize that we are being called together.
The assembly is of such significance that Joel paints a picture of everyone dropping what he is doing in order to attend. This is not the sort of occasion about which one can say, “You know, I’ve got other things to do, so I think I’ll just skip it.” No, everyone is called together, no exceptions.
The agenda for the gathering is an unfamiliar one in our day. Our folks come to church events to be educated or blessed or entertained or to have some need met. This gathering, however, is in order that the people might weep and call out to God, seeking his mercy, beseeching him for his deliverance. It is not what we come together to do in most American churches. Yet it is something that most of us have done as individuals. We recognize the need, therefore. And we also recognize the character of the One to whom we call -- the One who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”
1 C.S. Lewis, The Best of C.S. Lewis (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1969), pp. 87-88.
C.S. Lewis compares the seasons of the church year to the seasons of nature’s year. His imaginary demon, Screwtape, observes that God “has balanced the love of change in (human beings) by a love of permanence. He has contrived to gratify both tastes together in the very world He has made, by that union of change and permanence which we call Rhythm. He gives them the seasons, each season different yet every year the same... He gives them in His Church a spiritual year; they change from a fast to a feast, but it is the same feast as before.”1
Of course, not everyone has a sense of rhythm. And in the case of what Lewis calls the “spiritual year,” a sense of rhythm almost certainly needs to be cultivated in many of our people. The broader culture offers us some mixed assistance with the Christmas season, of course. Lent, however, goes generally unnoticed, apart from certain dubious traditions surrounding the day before the beginning of Lent.
But on Ash Wednesday, Lent calls. Its sound is quite different from the Christmas season, the festivity of which we can still hear echoing faintly from not many weeks back. But this is the next movement in the rhythm of the church year, the next season, complete with its own distinctive climate and beauty.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
The prophet Joel is generally regarded as one of the judgment prophets, though we know less about him than most of the others. In most instances, we have a sense of the prophet’s time and place. We have a sense for when and where his ministry took place. Joel’s book, however, contains too few clues within the text to help us be certain about his setting and audience. Even without the benefit of context, however, Joel’s message is clear.
A recurring theme within the larger book of Joel is prominent within our selection. The prospect of “the day of the Lord” is central to Joel’s message, though his portrait of that day is not monolithic. Elsewhere in the book, Joel anticipates that day as an occasion of the outpouring of God’s Spirit (Joel 2:28ff). Centuries later, Joel’s words become essential to Peter’s understanding and explanation of the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2:14-21). In the early part of our passage, however, the “day” is not so desirable.
As with the prophet Amos (see, for example, Amos 5:18-20), Joel finds it necessary to disabuse his people of their rosy notion of the day of the Lord. Amos warned that it would be “a day of darkness, not light.” And Joel, likewise, anticipates a day “of darkness and gloom... clouds and thick darkness!”
Broadly speaking, the day of the Lord was understood as that occasion when God would step into history and set things right. That’s good news, of course, if you are on the underside of the world’s injustice and oppression. It’s good news if you are awaiting vindication and liberation. But if a person is part of the problem that needs to be solved, then the day of the Lord is not something to be anticipated. The surgeon’s scalpel is good news for the patient, not the cancer. And so, too, whether the day of the Lord is good news depends upon who you are and what role you are playing relative to God’s will and purpose.
We noted that Joel is among the judgment prophets. Yet even though their primary message is judgment and thus their primary tone is harsh, judgment is not God’s primary will. Quite the contrary. The judgment messages are meant to be warnings that inspire repentance and reform. So it is that, even after the ominous news about the darkness of the day of the Lord, the redemptive invitation is extended: “Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart.”
Then Joel goes on to express in beauty the sort of good news that we don’t necessarily associate with the judgment prophets of the Old Testament. The Lord “is gracious and merciful,” Joel declares, “slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”
Once Ebenezer Scrooge had been frightened by glimpses of the future, he asks whether they are shadows of things that must be or things that might be. In other words, is there any hope, or has the die already been cast? We know from the happy ending of Charles Dickens’ famous story that there was still hope.
So, too, for the people of Joel’s audience. The glimpse of the future day of the Lord was terrible, but not inevitable. And so the people are called to repent. It is a solemn assembly, where the people cry out to God, “Spare your people!” And they do so with the trust that he is slow to anger and relents from punishing.
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Corinth seems to have been Paul’s problem church. About ten percent of the chapters in the New Testament belong to the Corinthian correspondence. And many of those chapters are devoted to answering questions, addressing problems, and mending the breaks in their relationship.
In the case of 2 Corinthians, it seems that Paul is having to compete for the Corinthians’ devotion and respect with intruders that he sarcastically refers to as “super apostles” (e.g., 11:5). As part of the larger pattern of spiritual immaturity -- or misplaced sense of spiritual maturity -- the Corinthians were being impressed by the wrong things. And while Paul admitted that he felt like a fool for playing their game, he knew that he would still win at that game. And so, in 2 Corinthians, we get to read a good deal of biographical information about Paul as he shares his resume with the folks in Corinth.
Paul shares more details later (see 11:22-28), but he makes initial, broad references here. Interestingly, Paul’s metrics of serving Christ are not the numerical ones that so fascinate and impress us in our day. He does not reel off the number of churches planted, number of members added, number of resources produced, conferences attended, or dollars raised. He does not boast of expanded programming, novel ideas, or new buildings.
Paul’s example in writing to the Corinthians reminds us that there are a wide variety of ways to measure success. What is your favorite measure? What metric tends to impress (or, for that matter, depress) you.
Paul’s measure is faithfulness. His expressions of faithfulness come in several forms, which we will take a few moments to explore. All together, they are a profound example for us.
The first order of business is “putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry.” That last phrase may send a chill up some spines, for we know folks along the way who have found plenty of fault with our ministries! Yet we must not confuse the weighty thing Paul is saying with mere criticisms and complaints. Paul was criticized -- even opposed. Yet still he functioned unapologetically, knowing within himself that he had conducted himself without fault. Let us not walk on eggshells as people-pleasers and then think our ministry is faultless because no one complains. No, the certainty of whether we are faultless or not lies within ourselves, not in our approval ratings.
The key issue for that faultless ministry is, as we noted above, faithfulness. And that faithfulness might be divided into four broad categories. First, there is faithfulness in the midst of all sorts of circumstances. Second, there is the faithfulness that manifests itself in Christian character. Third, there is faithfulness in relation to other people. And, finally, there is the faithfulness that comes as paradoxes.
The first form of faithfulness is identified with endurance. Paul makes a quick, unelaborated list here of the sorts of sufferings that he had experienced along the way. Any single one of his experiences -- a beating, an imprisonment, a riot, a night without sleep or a day without food -- would be a major headline in my life or yours. It’s the story we would tell again and again. And it might be the experience that would prompt us want to question the fairness of God or make us want to quit. Yet Paul takes such undesirable experiences for granted. They are settings that call for faithfulness, and that faithfulness looks like endurance.
Then Paul shifts to a different sort of list. Now he is enumerating not experiences but attributes. Purity, patience, kindness, genuine love, truth speech, and such. Real faithfulness in the service of Christ is more than just gritting our teeth and bearing up under the previously mentioned burdens. No, there is a Christlikeness of spirit and style that is meant to mark our lives and service. Faithfulness is not merely what we do, but how we do it.
Next, Paul turns his attention to the faithfulness that is interpersonal. It would often be an easier thing to serve Christ in a vacuum, without the complexities that come with human relationships. But that, of course, would be contrary to the spirit of Christ and the purposes of God. And so we are called to be faithful within those complexities, which include both “honor and dishonor,” both “ill repute and good repute.”
Finally, that mixed-bag quality of our experiences in human relationships prompts Paul to explore the paradoxes that come from being faithful to Christ. “Treated as imposters, and yet true” is merely an extension of Christ’s own experience in this world. Likewise, “poor, yet making many rich” sounds like the saving work of Christ in his condescension, incarnation, and crucifixion. And “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” should remind us of the truths Jesus teaches in the Beatitudes. In short, faithfulness to God’s kingdom in the context of this world is inevitably going to be a paradoxical experience.
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
“Beware of practicing your piety before others,” Jesus said, “in order to be seen by them.” Evidently it was the practice of some people to turn religious faith into performance art. Their fasting, their almsgiving, their praying was done with ulterior motives. The time and place of their piety was arranged with an audience in mind.
When I was perhaps eight years old, our family hosted a Catholic priest for dinner. Even though I was the son of a clergyman, still this guest seemed very special to me. After dinner, but while everyone was still sitting at the dining room table conversing, I excused myself to get something from my room. I returned with my worksheet from my Sunday School class, which I proceeded to complete while sitting there at the table.
I’m not sure that I ever gave a moment’s attention to one of those worksheets either before or after that night. On that particular occasion, however, with our special guest watching, I was uniquely motivated to be a model Sunday school student. I was practicing my piety before another in order to be seen by him.
I don’t suppose that the Lord looked unkindly upon my childish behavior. Such childishness is less excusable now, however, as an adult. And Jesus’ target audience was certainly adults.
The question is whether Jesus’ “beware” is a relevant warning in our day. Do we still live in a culture where acts of religiosity are applauded? Are we still at risk of being pious to please the crowd?
I doubt that there are many street corners in America where standing and praying aloud would be widely admired. Perhaps that sort of thing is not a temptation for us and for our people. But trying to impress others and win their approval is a temptation that never changes, regardless of time and place. And at that level, Jesus’ words still prove to be a sharp challenge to us.
So let us set aside for a moment the public praying and conspicuous fasting, which may not be much practiced or much admired in our day. Turn the question around and ask, What is it that we do instead? What might we do in order to impress others? What is applauded and admired by the folks who surround us? What good deeds do we do with ulterior motives? How do we live differently because we are being observed than we would if we lived life without spectators?
The specifics may be somewhat different than they were for Jesus’ original audience, but the underlying temptation remains fundamentally the same. And so does the solution. The solution is in living for “your Father who is in secret.”
I am reminded of the phenomenon that I have seen with each of my children along the way. Whether on a playground, in a swimming pool, riding a bike, or playing in the yard, during a certain phase of his or her life, the child is constantly calling out, “Daddy, watch! Mommy, look at me!” Nothing gives them more pleasure than to show their parents what they can do and to feel their parents’ pride.
I expect that phenomenon persists throughout the years of a healthy parent-child relationship. It may not always be as overt as the youngster in the swimming pool, but we continue to want our parents to see our accomplishments and to know that they are proud of us. And Jesus invites us to live that out at the highest level.
I may not always have a human audience around me. I certainly won’t always please all of them. But my heavenly Father always sees me, and I do well to live in a conscious effort to please him -- and only him!
Application
Perhaps some of your members grew up in a time and place when the church bells rang to summon folks to services. For our purposes this Ash Wednesday, we want to hear not so much the sound of bells as the sound of a trumpet. The trumpets of the Old Testament prophet Joel summon us. They call us to Lent.
As we noted above, the season of Lent begins by being very meaningful to some of our folks and entirely foreign to others. Whatever our background, though, it is certain to be profitable anytime we set aside some season in a deliberate way for spiritual reflection and growth. And our selected passages offer us the guidelines for a meaningful and impactful Lenten season. So, let us hear three ways that Lent calls to us.
First, there is the call to repentance. This is the central issue for Joel’s audience. In moments of sensitivity and clarity, we catch glimpses of the holiness of God and, in turn, we recognize more profoundly our own sinfulness. The proper response is not despair or self-loathing. The proper response is to repent, and to do so with the confidence that we are actually responding to the God who calls us to return to him. He is the one who invites, who welcomes, who forgives, and who redeems. Our repentance, therefore, is the way we come running to enjoy the cleansing and the freedom for which we deeply long.
The second call of Lent is Paul’s call to faithfulness. He modeled it before the Christians in Corinth, and we are the beneficiaries of their correspondence. While our situations may not be as dramatic as the apostle’s, the need for faithfulness within our circumstances is just as great. And so we take his example and instruction as our call to renew our sense of faithfulness right where we are.
And, finally, the third call is Jesus’ call to simple living. I don’t mean simple in the sense of fewer gadgets or a less busy schedule. I mean simple in orientation. Rather than serving a dozen masters, I am invited to serve One. Rather than living to please countless persons, I live to please One. Jesus’ teaching on doing whatever we do for our Father who sees us -- for his approval and his reward -- is an invitation to rise above all our lesser allegiances. And it is a liberation to know that my daily task is to live for the One Person who actually knows me better than anyone else and loves me more than anyone else. That’s a great assignment!
Let your people hear Lent calling this Ash Wednesday -- calling us, in every respect, closer to God.
Alternative Application(s)
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 -- “Trumpet Voluntary”
The prophet Joel plays the part of a composer in our selected Old Testament lection. For Ash Wednesday, he prepares a piece for two trumpets. In verse 1, he issues a call to “blow the trumpet in Zion.” And in verse 15, he points to the trumpet section again, saying, “Blow the trumpet in Zion.”
The two trumpet pieces are of two different types. The first piece is meant to sound like an alarm. The second, by contrast, is designed to “call a solemn assembly.” And the two musical movements represent two different spiritual movements, as well.
The warnings of the Old Testament prophets sound harsh to us, but in reality they are a mercy. Think of the smoke alarm in your house. Is the sound a pleasing one? Not at all. Yet that sound could save your life.
So the first trumpet movement sounds like a warning: a dire and frightening prospect of what is to come. But just as the smoke alarm is designed to prompt your escape, so, too, is the warning trumpet required by God. And the escape route, in this case, is to repent.
“Return to me with all your heart,” the Lord says. It is a gracious invitation extended to recalcitrant sinners. And it is worth noting that God’s will and our instinct point in opposite directions at this point. In the wake of our sin, you see, in the midst of our guilt and shame, our reflex is to run away from him. That’s what Adam and Eve did. But that is heading the wrong direction, for even in our filth, his desire is that we should come to him.
Then comes the second trumpet. It is the same instrument, but a different sound. This is not the sound of urgent warning but of solemn convocation. If the first trumpet is like our contemporary smoke alarm, the second is like the church bell of an earlier generation. We hear it, and we recognize that we are being called together.
The assembly is of such significance that Joel paints a picture of everyone dropping what he is doing in order to attend. This is not the sort of occasion about which one can say, “You know, I’ve got other things to do, so I think I’ll just skip it.” No, everyone is called together, no exceptions.
The agenda for the gathering is an unfamiliar one in our day. Our folks come to church events to be educated or blessed or entertained or to have some need met. This gathering, however, is in order that the people might weep and call out to God, seeking his mercy, beseeching him for his deliverance. It is not what we come together to do in most American churches. Yet it is something that most of us have done as individuals. We recognize the need, therefore. And we also recognize the character of the One to whom we call -- the One who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”
1 C.S. Lewis, The Best of C.S. Lewis (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1969), pp. 87-88.
