However, the past several years I’ve encountered some Lenten Stress. What do I give up? What has a grip on me that needs loosening? Where can I sacrifice to identify with the sacrifice of the season? How do I find a sense of balance between challenge and reasonable?

I can start with a few standard areas of examination. 

1. Food. I love food. All kinds and lots of it. I’ve realized how much I enjoy food now that my dietary intake has been reduced by nearly an entire food group. That being said, with my gastronomic difficulties, I don’t feel it necessary to add in another reduction. Honestly, my morning cup of coffee is one of the highlights of my day. And though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind to give up grains “for Lent”, I think I’d be missing the point to sacrifice to Jesus what has already been sacrificed to my daughter. I’m sure there’s a sort of idolatry there someplace. 

2. Facebook. I’ve done this one as well, and it went smooth. I’ve contemplated a FB reduction at other points, but my current state of social solitude doesn’t bode well with a complete cutoff from those I enjoy stalking. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get any of my news. 

3. TV. Seeing as how I watch maybe an hour a week, it’s just not enough of a sacrifice. The thing could disappear until I want to take a Sunday afternoon nap and need a movie to drift off to. 

So, here’s my only other nomination:

“A nagging wife is like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet…” (Proverbs 27:15)

It’s one thing to lovingly ask your spouse and children to participate in the upkeep of the home. It’s a new ballgame when those “requests” take the form of sarcasm, a tone with a bite, a belittling of sorts. So I’d like to give up the nagginess altogether. What does that look like?
“Dear, can you please take your bowl to the dishwasher?” Acceptable. 

“Is the dishwasher that much further from the countertop where you put your bowl?” Not acceptable. 

However, though it’s a nice life adaptation, I’m not sure that fixing my naggy drip keeps completely with the spirit of Lent. It does offer me that choice of Jesus (and those I love) over myself each day, but I feel that there should be more. Perhaps it’s the fact that I can’t join in lament with fellow Lent-giver-uppers about how hard it is to go without (because then I look like a real hag). And if I can’t complain about it, is it really sacrifice? Perhaps it’s just a mid-year New Years Resolution. 

So, I have just a few more hours to contemplate what, over the next 40 days, in its absence will help me realize presence. 

However, I’ve found that if I question some of the directives given, I usually only have to look around me to see how the commands can play out out. So when you hear the commands of caring for the widow, the orphan and the prisoner, I’ve had ringside seats to see what it looks like. 

I even have a picture. 

Exhibit A:

Before we got married, Husband and I asked Jack & Judy to have dinner with us on a regular basis and gave them permission to ask us the questions that we should be discussing as engaged and newly marrieds. We sought them out not because we were under the impression that they were perfect, but rather that they were normal. They’d raised kids and moved and transitioned jobs and struggled and succeeded and through all of it they were faithful. 

As my relationship with them deepened in my time at the church I began to see just how deep their faith drilled down, but more so I learned what it meant to put shoes on it and take it for a walk. Of course they volunteered at the church and met many needs within the walls. But the impression they left on me is how it seeped out into everything they did. 

Caring for the widow, the orphan and the prisoner isn’t a hobby but a way of life. Jack’s last position in his career was working for the educational system within the prison. Beyond advocating for them as part of a job description, they became part of a rehabilitation group partnering with recent releases to help them transition back to society, largely with a faith-based support system. Heck, their most recent love in life – Stephanie – is the product of inmate responsibilities. 

Then there are the orphans. All 27 (?) of them. One of my favorite stories of Judy’s is how after they’d had their second child and she was gearing up for more, Jack put the brakes on. But she loved children. Actually, Jack corrected her, she loved babies. But they grow up. They came to an agreement that, I believe, changed the lives of many children. They fostered. They brought in babies of all makes and models, in conditions beyond fathom, and loved them. They gave them a safe place and exposed them to a loving home. They never adopted, but I believe in the simple act of bringing them in they helped to set a standard for these children that good homes exist and they are worthy of it. Perhaps in some way it began to chisel away at a disastrous cycle. They didn’t set out to become heros, but God can use someone’s love of rocking a newborn for kingdom purposes. And he’ll seriously bless a woman who willingly enters that timeframe of limited sleep (at least, I believe so). 

And then there’s the widows. Quite honestly, I’m not sure I’ve seen J&J show up for an event alone. They were the speed dial setting for more than one older person in our church – even those with children still involved in their lives. But if Judy was going to a circle group, she was picking up Maxine. If Jack is heading to church, Bill was in the passenger seat. Something as simple as presence fulfill God’s mandate; it reminds us that we’re not alone, especially in what has become lonely years for many. 

Recently in conversation I shared with Husband who inspired I was by Jack & Judy’s example in how they lived out God’s desire for loving people. I hope that loving those close to God’s heart becomes a pattern in my life, not just another project to complete.