That barbed, venomous weapon I wield so deftly against
the ones for whom I have the greatest love, of whom I am charged with care and
keeping. My tongue rends hearts; scarring,
cutting, leaving marks that can’t be seen, or undone.
Monday, I tried to keep my tongue behind my teeth. Little feet dawdled. Little hands sought play instead of the tasks
that propel us out the door to school and life.
Little eyes locked with mine in flat-out defiance. “You-can’t-make-me-brush-my-teeth-if-you-can’t-talk.” Shoes were missing, breakfasts sat uneaten;
running up and down the stairs was more pressing than getting-out-the-door-so-we’re-not-late. And my wild gesticulating, rigid fingers
pointing from packs to little backs, miming the next steps, brought only
quizzically cocked heads. And more rebellious
immobility.
I broke. I opened
my mouth and used my most effective weapon.
I stood, less than 2 hours into my fast, and smashed little heart pieces
with the force of my words, the outpouring of my heart. Little eyes bulged. “You’re talking. You’re not supposed to.”
“You promised God.”
How many times have I promised God? How many nights have I lain in bed, lamenting
the day? Please, Father, give me another chance tomorrow. A chance to love them better, the way you
love me. A chance to speak life, a
chance to use words that build up; a chance to love better.
And every time coming up short.
A good man
brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man
brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks
what the heart is full of.[1]
But that’s what Lent does. It takes all my promises and strivings, and shows
me where I come up short. Lent is about
dying. It strips away at human effort
and strength, until all that’s left is what’s underneath. Rusted, rotting places that have to be
uncovered in order to be worked on. Lent
is evidence of outward failure and destruction, so that the soul-bones beneath
can be exposed and healed.
God’s promises outlast
mine. God’s promises are fulfilled.
That’s where Lent leads. To blood.
To the cross. To a death. Human striving is never enough. It all ends in death. Lent leads us not only to death, but through it. Through to the resurrection. Through to life in grace.
A promise
fulfilled.
Glass promises, from my lips, will always break. But universe-fabric promises will hold fast;
because Love does not break. The promise
of Jesus’ life in exchange for mine. For
yours. An absolute-eternal vow. Him for me. Him for you.
Love for brokenness.
Life for death. This
is the way of Lent.
[1] Luke 6:45
No comments:
Post a Comment