We’re well into Lent now aren’t we? Are any of you doing anything special for Lent this year? Given anything up and taken something up? I find I’m really enthusiastic at the start, I absolutely love Lent, which I realise is a bit weird, but it can get to the point where it starts to feel really hard depending upon what it is I’ve taken on or given up.
I doubt any of us have gone to quite the extreme, whether due to Lent or because we’re Christians, of giving up all or possessions like Jesus says in our Gospel reading this evening.
Now it’s really hard to say exactly what Jesus means here, some have taken it literally, like the Franciscans and other religious orders who take a vow of poverty, some have said he’s talking specifically to this particular group of people and others have pointed out that Jesus often uses extravagant and exaggerated language to emphasise a point. Whichever of those you believe Jesus is telling us it’s not an easy path to follow him, there may be a cost to us and we need to weigh that up.
Lent gives us the opportunity to explore this in a safe way. We’re invited to follow Jesus into the wilderness and spend time with him. To understand and deepen our commitment to this Lent journey we may choose to deny ourselves something or take up a discipline that asks something of us.
But we know Easter is coming, we know we get to celebrate at the end of the 40 days and nights. What if we didn’t know how the story ended? Would Jesus’ teachings be enough? What are we prepared to sacrifice, what are we willing to go through or even give up for our belief in those teachings? My answer is I don’t know, I don’t know how far I would go, but each Lent I try and take time to explore these questions, to ask myself can I carry the cross? What is the cost of my faith? What is Jesus asking of me, today, here and now.
I believe that the sacrifice we’re asked to make, the cost to us, is love. That doesn’t sound difficult on the surface, not like a sacrifice at all, but the love that’s asked of us is deep and unconditional, and I struggle with it every day.
We’re asked to love those who don’t love us, those whose opinions and actions we find hateful, those completely unlike us in every way. Because we’re not just asked to love people we know, or good people, we’re called to love those who’ve committed crimes, those who’re racist, those who hurt women or children. And to us that probably seems impossible. It’s so much easier to not love, or feel justified in not loving someone because of the awful things they’ve done.
But if we believe Jesus’ teachings then we believe that God loves each and every one of us equally, God loves me as much as someone who’s committed a hate crime or murder. A difficult and inconvenient truth. Every person made in God’s image has the capacity to reflect God’s love. Our challenge through Lent is to ask ourselves what are our barriers to unconditional love? What are our prejudices and who do we feel we can’t love? And can we lay these aside to more closely follow Jesus? If we can leave some of them in the wilderness at the end of Lent maybe we’re a little bit closer to reflecting God’s love in the world.
Luke 14.27-33 (Evening Prayer New Testament reading for today)
Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.
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