Lent: Clothing

This week’s fast was from clothing. One outfit, with the exception of a work out outfit. Same grey shirt, same pair of jeans, same blue tennies, and same orange jacket. Six days. Catch up on the conversation and the past two weeks dealing with resources and money.

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There is a funny place in lent where the darkness threatens to overcome all that is around. The horizon of ash wednesday is too far gone in the distance for the eye to see, yet the dawn of Easter morning is not nearly close enough to cast hope. Darkness can quickly overcome and the hope of light can easily become forgotten. This is the part of the journey I found myself in this week.

It would be easy to assume that my gods hung in my closet.

That is what culture tells us. If we like something, we must worship it, but my idolatry is much more tangled than that. The pretty colored fabrics that paint a rainbow in my closet are only a means to my true loves. They buy me the drugs I long for: the approval of others, comfort, a sense of control and an identity I desire.

I spent my week in withdrawal, like an addict without their dope.

My body and my will fought the self imposed discipline with every ounce of energy they had. Lent came with expectation of the Lord’s work. I anticipated the fruits of the Spirit to flow out of my heart, yet the only trace of outflow was immaturity and frustration.

The peak of my immaturity was revealed as I began to throw a temper-tantrum in the middle of my living room in the presence of one of my roommates. There was stomping, cursing and the phrase “whatever” used. I have never been so embarrassed. I wrestled with the state of my heart over and over through out the week, yet I was incapable of changing it.

Words that are not my own always have a way of reaching my heart.

I was dwelling on an exceptional book, Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, and these words washed over me. “This is why Meister Eckhard points out that those who have the hardest time with Lent are ‘the good people.’ Most of us are willing to give up a thing or two; we may also admit our need for renewal. But to die with Christ? It is a time to let go of excuses for failings and shortcomings; a time to stop hanging on to whatever shreds of goodness we perceive in ourselves; a time to ask God to show us what we really look like.”

In light of these words, my mini-meltdown was graced with clarity. The entirety of the week felt like a series of mini-deaths. My will was dying, and naturally it responded with a fight. Six days full of seeing my true self without the perceived goodness I sprinkle over reality. I saw clearly for the first time. Understanding the darkness of my own heart has made the longing for the dawn of Easter morning much sweeter.

It’s easy to think this fast is about me caring for others, and to a degree it is. Yet, it would ignorant to think that the Lord is not concerned about revealing sin in my own heart. With awareness of the state of my own soul, I rejoice in the coming of the resurrection.

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Abby Fennema is a junior attending John Brown University. Her passion for story telling and the written word is what propelled her to help create The Millstone Blog. She believes everyone has a story worth sharing and desires to enable others to speak out. Her favorite things are road trips, camping, and the Colorado mountains.