Friday, March 11
#TheLentiestLentThatEverLented
Then Daniel answered the king: “Long live the king! My God sent his messenger, who shut the lions’ mouths. They haven’t touched me because I was judged innocent before my God. I haven’t done anything wrong to you either, Your Majesty.” —Daniel 6:21-22
Lent is a journey of struggle, suffering, and reflection. Some people choose to either give up something or adopt a new practice during Lent as a way of connecting our modern, physical selves to Christ’s suffering journey some 2000 years ago.
However, sometimes we find ways to shortcut the process (“Sundays don’t count”) or even minimize the symbolic suffering (“I can’t possibly give up that, so I’ll do this easy one instead”).
But this Lent, I’m not sure that I get to choose the method of my “suffering.” These days already feel like I’m living in a dark place. Some spiritual practices and counselors call it “a dark night of the soul.” Many of you might be there with me; not necessarily “with” as in communion and support, but “with” as in also experiencing similar darkness.
I look to my coffee pot for many metaphors. Imagine adding water to the back of your coffee pot in preparation for it to siphon water up from the holding tank to drip through the grinds and make a delicious cup of coffee. Now, consider filling the tank as quickly as you can while the dripping siphon is also running, just as quickly, or quicker, than you can fill the back tank. (If you are a swimming pool rather than coffee person, imagine having a crack in the bottom of your pool.)
In this instance, the tank never reaches its full-point, as it is constantly being drained even as it is being filled. Thus, it is much more likely to hit the empty bone-dry mark than to ever be fully filled.
With a pandemic stretching on, sociopolitical divides rifting relationships, stressful working conditions, growing to-do lists which gather more dust than scratch-out marks, and so much more, I am exhausted. Pandemic fatigue. Decision fatigue. Empathy fatigue. Fatigue fatigue.
A short while back, I came across a bit of research that helped put some of my fatigue in perspective: the average person makes approximately 60,000 decisions each day. These decisions range from the smallest, subconscious ones (“Should I pick up my fork to take this bite?”) to even largest, life-changing ones (“How do I tell my partner I’m quitting my job and going back to school?”).
Researchers in another study quantified a job-stress index. In this study, “stress” was determined by the number of quick, substantial decisions that a person needed to make in a brief amount of time. Some of the most stressful jobs listed were: ER physicians & nurses, air traffic controllers, schoolteachers, CEOs, child/family social workers.
I have one of the most stressful careers out there. Maybe you do, too. By the way, that “work-life-balance” people speak of is just a bunch of hooey. There is no such thing. No wonder I feel like a constantly dripping, never-filled coffee maker.
Tandem this insight with how we attempt to refill ourselves. What satisfies the need for you? What life-giving moments refill and satisfy your soul? Imagine if we struggle to define what those fulfilling/refueling moments would be. What if our go-to strategies don’t really “do the trick”?
That’s where we teeter today, standing on the precipice between life-giving or life-draining experiences. And this teetering is exhausting! Despite the various life-giving/refilling moments we try to steal away, the continuous drip…drip…drip…. saps away the energy of the attempted results. It seems we can’t ever get back to a moment of being able to claim “Fullness.” Instead, no matter how much we try to refill and recharge, the constant draining of energy, emotion, and low-grade anxiety permeates the daily experiences of life. No matter how many naps I take on the weekend, it is not enough. I still find myself short tempered with coworkers, lacking patience with my family, and frustrated at myself, all in spite of my best attempts at “balancing” life and work. You see, no matter how I attempt to refill, it never fully suffices. I still feel drained, passionless, lost, and frustrated.
Around town, there are many “job opening” and “help-wanted” signs…everywhere seems to be hiring. What would it be like to wander around with a “help wanted” sign dangling around our necks? We need the help, although asking for it can be really hard. Additionally, when someone offers to be of assistance, often we are at a loss for the words to articulate the problem or even identify tangible ways that another could help.
This is the darkness… Feeling the hard of life, and struggling to articulate the hard, ask for help, or accept it. We are called to sit in the darkness of Lent, so that the light of Easter’s Resurrection is all the brighter. May we have the courage and strength to endure this darkness, so that we may bask in the light of Christ. For we commune with the God of the darkness and of the light.
Adapted from “Small Enough” lyrics by Nichole Nordeman:
Oh, great God, Be small enough to hear me now. There are times when I am crying from the dark of Daniel’s den. I had asked you once or twice if you would part the sea again. Tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky. Just want to know you’re gonna hold me if I start to cry. Oh great God, Be small enough to hear me now. Be close enough to feel you now. Amen.
Ben Hartman