A Sinful Beginning to Lent

Lent is supposed to be a time of increased reflection and devotion. We're supposed to cut non-essentials out of our lives and replace them with more time with God. And yet, the first three days of Lent have, for me, been nothing but a hurried mess of appointments, required conference events and meetings, driving to and fro, preparing for Lenten services, filling out paperwork, responding to emails, and so on. Looking at my calendar over the next few weeks, it only figures to get worse. Part of the busyness is owed to unique events this year, but much of it is the usual grind of additional worship services, a desire to make existing services "different" to signify Lent, and the march toward Holy Week, the most dramatic week in the Christian year. And all it's doing is making me feel busy, tired, and guilty for thinking I'm too important to slow down.

Has our religious activity during Lent become the thing most getting in the way of observing Lent? This may be more of a clergy issue, but I suspect it is not. Perhaps this is part of the Lenten challenge: finding time and energy to meditate when life is a whirlwind of activity. If so, then I am failing tremendously thus far. There's still time to improve my Lenten observance. Ironically enough, I just haven't found it yet.

U2charist

Last night, I received Holy Communion in the Pittsburgh Hard Rock Cafe. It was part of a U2charist worship led by United Methodists in the Pittsburgh area, a service that doubled as an Imagine No Malaria event. It was a night in which the Holy Spirit was flowing more strongly than the spirits on the shelf behind the bar.

I can't say that I've ever received Communion in a bar before last night, and now I'm wondering why not. Why aren't we holding worship and administering sacraments in bars and restaurants? Why do we limit these acts to our sanctuaries? Jesus didn't. John Wesley didn't. And we shouldn't.

Recently I preached on Matthew 5:13-20, in which Jesus declares that we are the light of the world. But how can anyone see our light shine when we're hiding under the bushel baskets of our sanctuaries? Last night, the light of Western Pennsylvania United Methodists radiated through Hard Rock. We placed ourselves in the world, and let our light shine as we received Christ's body and fought to eradicate malaria. We need to be doing these things more often.