Interrupting Lent Daybook For A Check In & Saint Patrick's Day
Oh my goodness, friends.
Last night I tried to push through the eighteenth post for Lent Daybook and got stuck. One of the reasons I love the liturgical year is that it continues, like a steady friend, through all the turmoils of the world - day in and day out teaching us to number our days to gain a heart of wisdom. And we'll return to our normal format tomorrow, but today I want to check in with you.
How are you?
I love that our small community covers a lot of geographical ground. We have members in every time zone of the United States (including Alaska!). We have a couple of members in other parts of the globe (including Spain). While we celebrate the opportunity to gather around the common experience of the church year, we also have the privilege of gathering around the common experience of the global suffering of Coronavirus.
What's your experience been like so far?
If you feel comfortable, would you drop a comment below? How have you been processing the uncertainty and trouble in our world right now? What does it look like in your neighborhood and church community to be present to each other, your own self, and to God right now? If I may be so bold, what's it like for you to process the global pandemic during the season of Lent?
In our home, we've been affected most deeply on two fronts. Since my husband, Brian is a pastor, we've been wrestling with what it means to lead a congregation right now. I should say that he's wrestling deeply with how to communicate the love and faithfulness of God during a season of global anxiety. I've been sitting next to him (sometimes quite literally) reading commentary and data and Scripture and social media and trying to offer him a healthy (rather than completely freaked out) sounding board. To be honest, it's been a challenge, but also a joy.
We've been feeling the anguish of uncertainty most acutely on the front of planning our daughter's wedding. As you can imagine, we're a bit stunned trying to process all that's happening in Connecticut, the U.S., and the world right now and sad about the ways the pandemic is casting a shadow over the April 25 wedding date. I spent a good bit of yesterday morning crying. While this marriage is still one hundred percent a joyful occasion, the traditional celebration - the one not only Kendra has dreamed about but so has her mother - will be altered significantly.
Over the weekend I heard one of the best descriptions of the experience of anxiety that I've ever heard: Anxiety is imagining a future without Jesus in it. I keep returning to that definition as we reimagine Kendra and Jordan's wedding. No matter how they decide to celebrate it, Jesus will be there. And, in the beautiful mystery of God, Jesus already is there.
God is not held by time in our human understanding, only present at this moment and unable to hold together the past and future moments. God in Christ is already there, holding space until we arrive. Each moment we live is arrival for us into the companionship of the already-present Christ.
Whatever our future plans that are now put on hold, we will never have to experience any of them in the absence of Christ. Oh my goodness, this brings me so much peace.
There might not be a more meaningful time to remember the prayer we attribute to Saint Patrick. Will you join me in praying it today?
Look: The photos above are from our unforgettable 2016 visit to the Hill of Tara.
Listen: Christ Be With Me, The Brilliance - Spotify | YouTube
Pray: “The Lorica [or Breastplate] of St. Patrick"
Note: The original meaning of “Lorica” is armor or a breastplate. It developed, in the Christian monastic tradition, to mean a prayer of protection. Apparently, Patrick sang this revision of an Old Irish prayer when he came under ambush on his way to Tara to "sow the faith".
1 I bind unto myself today
the strong name of the Trinity
by invocation of the same,
the Three in One and One in Three.
2 I bind this day to me forever,
by power of faith, Christ’s incarnation,
his baptism in the Jordan river,
his death on cross for my salvation,
his bursting from the spiced tomb,
his riding up the heavenly way,
his coming at the day of doom,
I bind unto myself today.
3 I bind unto myself today
the virtues of the starlit heaven,
the glorious sun’s life-giving ray,
the whiteness of the moon at even,
the flashing of the lightning free,
the whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
the stable earth, the deep salt sea
around the old eternal rocks.
4 I bind unto myself today
the power of God to hold and lead,
God’s eye to watch, God’s might to stay,
God’s ear to hearken to my need,
the wisdom of my God to teach,
God’s hand to guide, God’s shield to ward,
the word of God to give me speech,
God’s heavenly host to be my guard.
5 Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
6 I bind unto myself the name,
the strong name of the Trinity
by invocation of the same,
the Three in One and One in Three,
of whom all nature has creation,
eternal Father, Spirit, Word.
Praise to the Lord of my salvation;
salvation is of Christ the Lord!
Today's Lectionary Readings**: Psalm 78; Genesis 45:1-15; 1 Corinthians 7:32-40; Mark 6:1-13
Do: If you have time to watch a movie today, may I strongly recommend The Secret of Kells?!? The gorgeously-rendered mythology behind the very real, magnificent Book of Kells, created by Irish monks to turn the medieval darkness into light. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. It'll be a gift to anyone who watches it, no matter their age.
Also, later today, I'll be sending another note with an invitation to our Patreon community. Would you consider contributing a mourning story to the Retrieve Lament series during Holy Week this year?
This is the eighth year I'll be adding this series from Palm Sunday to Holy Saturday, and each year I feel (and have heard from others) that God makes use of my little corner of cyberspace to encourage others through the first-hand accounts of the redemptive hope found in seasons of acute personal. I feel like there's so much we can learn from each other's stories of grief, particularly the sort that happens in the community of believers.
Keep an eye on your inbox for the invitation!
** Sunday Scripture readings are taken from the Revised Common Lectionary (Year A). Daily Scripture readings are taken from the Book of Common Prayer (Year 2).