I do not pray that life be spent
On flow’ry beds of ease;
I only pray that Christ may guide
Across the stormy seas.

I do not pray that flow’rs may bloom
Along my pilgrim way;
I only ask that Christ may guide
My footsteps lest I stray.

If Thou wilt lead me by the hand,
And guide my trembling feet,
For Thee, O Christ, I’ll gladly drink
The bitter with the sweet.

What though my life be peace or pain,
’Twill only soon be o’er;
I want to walk the way that leads
To heav’n’s eternal shore.

—Charles Ebert Orr, “Savior, Lead Me”

A short prayer for a tiring day.

A short question for the heart: Am I ready to drink the bitter with the sweet?

"Glory be to the Father, and to the Son:
and to the Holy Ghost;
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:
world without end. Amen."
—Gloria Patri

“World without end.”

Such a captivating description of reality and eternity.
Such a contrast with who we are as dust and ashes.

I've been reading this prayer for the past few months as part of my devotional material. There is something about the last sentence, that stopped time for me.

On the one hand, I needed time to process its meaning—process the grandeur of eternity, but on the other hand, it felt like time did not matter because we will have all the time in the world to contemplate and experience such eternity.  

It's hard to imagine eternity in a season of dust and ashes. It's difficult to hold on to both in this season of Lent. Yet, this feeling of contrast is healthy and even hopeful for followers of Jesus today.

Eternity is not a vacuum on its own. It is not just a duration of time and empty space, but it is in relation to a who. The Triune God is what makes eternity possible, and we are invited to be with Him through it.

Our life group is studying 1-3 John this year, and in 1 John chapter 5, the author writes in the last chapter,

13 I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life. 14This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. 15 And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him...

20 We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true by being in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.

Eternal life is being in Christ.
Eternity is being in the loving presence of Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.

Today, I can feel my body decaying. I can see those around me whose health is fading. I can see the pain, the aches, and the grasping for air. I feel the burden of living toward death.

But I am also weighted by hope. My imagination runs wild for what awaits us in eternity. There are not enough colours in the world to paint it, and there are not enough books to describe it. Our senses are not prepared for the wonders and glory that are on the other side of the veil.

World without ends.

My heart can not wait.

"Grant, Lord, that I may know myself that I may know thee."
—Augustine

The sound of thunder and hammering lasted throughout the day. The sky was quiet, but our roofer finally started replacing our damaged roof from last year's hailstorm.

There was a lot of ripping, scrapping, hammering, and stomping. It was a very distracting day, but I knew it had to be done, and it was good that it was being done.

Getting a new roof means ripping the old one down to its foundation. It's not just the shingles on the surface but the layers of materials underneath it.

I've been reflecting on who I am as a person this Lent. What is my false self, and what is my true self. What are the barriers to living out my true self—my core calling and purpose—today?

I will need the whole of Lent to unravel this question, and it will require a lot of ripping and digging. It will be quite uncomfortable and disorienting. It's painful because the question I am asking is not what needs to change in my circumstances but what of myself needs to be changed—what false aspects of myself need to be ripped off so I can be true in any circumstance.

Reflecting on our false selves can be awkward and uncomfortable. It is like looking into a mirror and finding a stranger in it. But if we look beneath that stranger, we might (re)discover the origin of how they came to be—the events, relationships, and, ultimately, the wounds that created this false persona.

We are strangers growing old with new scars every day.
We are also children who've been given new mercies every day.

God's grace and mercy. That's my path to finding my true self.

"Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning."
—Lamentation 3:23

Grant, Almighty God, that as you constantly remind us in your word, and have taught us by so many examples, that there is nothing permanent in this world, but that the things which seem the firmest tend to ruin, and instantly fall and of themselves vanish away, when by your breath you shake your strength in which men trust—O grant that we, being really subdued and humbled, may not rely on earthly things, but raise up our hearts and our thoughts to heaven, and there fix the anchor of our hope, and may all our thoughts abide there until at length, when you have led us through our course on earth, we shall be gathered into that celestial kingdom which has been obtained for us by the blood of your only begotten Son. Amen. — Prayer by John Calvin

Monday felt like I had smashed on the brake pedal. It is my Sabbath day.

My Mondays often felt like a vacuum—a sudden ejection of all work-related thoughts and actions. It felt like violence to my core being. I wanted to fill the emptiness with something else, some other kind of information and of knowing, like the news of the world.

But as I was working through my devotion today, I happened to John Calvin's prayer, and it stopped me: There is nothing permanent in this world, but that the things which seem the firmest tend to ruin, and instantly fall and of themselves vanish away...

I am treading on ruins. I surround myself with fading things and thoughts. I create schedules that do not anchor in eternity.

I wondered what it would look like if my life was truly subdued and humbled as Calvin prayed if I stopped making grandiose plans for my life and slowed myself down in order to inch toward heaven. I don't think we are meant to reach heaven speeding toward it; we can only walk there at 3 miles an hour. I see now that's how Jesus walked His life.

I spend the whole day in my LEGO room.

For the past few years, the thing that I find I need less of is news.

News is not a bad thing on its own. It provides information to help me understand my world. It can help me in loving people better by knowing what impacts them. It tells me how my favourite F1 teams are doing.

But more and more, news has become something harmful to me. It's changing what I see in the mirror.

Our news report the chaos and reality of sin in our world. Every day, it proves sin does not discriminate in its infection—sin is ingrained in every level of our existence.

But it is not just the news headlines itself. Today, we are also being forced to digest the reactions of our newsfeeds. Our social media accounts are saturated with reactions and responses from friends, families, coworkers, and social media personalities. More often than not, these responses are full of emotions, especially heavy ones that stick, such as helplessness and anger.

When I look into the mirror, I see the weight of the world's emotions crushing me. I am barely in the reflection anymore.

Some might say this is foolish, "You should not care so much what others feel and think." And my answer to them is, "You can take that up with God, because that's how He made me." It is what I have to work with and work through. It is my struggle and the source of my anxiety.

Maybe some of you can relate. You know you should not be bothered by what others think and feel or by the latest sensational headlines. Yet, you are. It bothers you deeply, and it is hard to express it to others. You feel weak and, maybe, overly sensitive.

I believe it is vital to acknowledge our struggles, not just what they are but also the enormity of their impact on us. Sometimes, we try to minimize our emotions because others might not think it is a big deal, but God is not looking at us through other people's eyes. His eyes are looking directly at our hearts, and He knows what is hurting us; what burdens we are not meant to carry.

He knows where we need His grace.

This lent season, I am giving up my newsfeeds, which include Facebook, X and Feedly. You can say they are my source of weakness and helplessness.  

And my prayer is that as I give up these things, I will grow in my trust in God to act and care for our world, our governments, our communities, and the church in spite of what I know or don't know.  

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Cor. 12:8-10

One of the points I spoke about at our Ash Wednesday service this year was the need to slow down to see clearly.

The honest truth is, I find it very difficult to see clearly, especially when I talk about what we see when we look in the mirror. I don't often see myself; I don't often see all my scars, open wounds, and brokenness.

As a pastor whose everyday work is thinking about the others, my thoughts and prayers are in the stories of my congregation and the ministries that surround it: Their wounds, worries, frustrations, anger, illnesses, loss, and brokenness. There are good stories as well, don't get me wrong, but as someone had said, pain stays and weighs heavy, but happiness tends to float away quickly. People's scars and wounds tend to stay with me more than happy things, and so I struggle with joy and happiness.

I wondered if many of us are experiencing the same thing, whether you are parents who can only see your children (and their happiness) in the mirror. Or a business owner who depends on your employees and their well-being. Our joy and peace are dependent on others more than what is happening to us inside.

If only we could slow down enough to have the space and time to look for help, help for ourselves.

Lent is an interesting period of time to reflect on this because we are asked to give up something, something that we rely on because we feel it is essential to our lives, even though they are most likely not. And so my question is, what is it that we have to give up and lay before God so we can address our brokenness and experience joy that does not depend on others?

I believe the answer has something to do with our [church’s] theme of Simplicity: less of ourselves and more of God.

"What do you mean less of ourselves when the problem is we can't see more of ourselves?"

“Could it be that having more of God in my life helps me to see my true self more clearly?”

“There is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace, and my happiness depend: to discover yourself in discovering God. If I find Him I will find myself and if I find my true self I will find Him.” - Thomas Merton

Today marks the start of our preparation for Good Friday and Easter. The word, preparation, brings a lot of different imagery. Preparation is a time of anticipation, and one of the images is athletes in sports. When athletes get ready for a game, the hours leading up to the start are usually filled with rituals and activities that pump them up. 

It is a time of powering up: Mentally building up their confidence and self-esteem, and imagining how they will overcome their opponents. 

They would be priming their body with workouts. They might have their headphone on with their pregame music cranked up– rhythms to get their hearts going. 

Their preparation is focused on getting their mind and body up to speed, powering up and into victory!

But the preparation we are talking about today—Ash Wednesday and Lent—is quite the opposite. Because to prepare for Good Friday and Easter, the focus is not on powering up ourselves, but rather, it is about powering down. 

The focus is not "We can do it!" but "We can't do it." It's not about having the mindset of "I am invincible!" but "I am limited, frail, unreliable, decaying… dying." 

In Psalm 103:14-16, David writes, 

For He Himself knows our frame;

He is mindful that we are but dust.

The life of mortals is like grass,

they flourish like a flower of the field;

the wind blows over it and it is gone,

and its place remembers it no more.

David is keenly aware that he, along with the rest of the human race, we are but dust. 

Doesn't matter if you are a king, a newborn baby, an athlete, a new parent, a retiree or someone with a good job or no job. When everything is stripped away, we are all just a brief existence in this world. 

And yet, many of us don't live in such a reality. 

We prefer to distract ourselves into oblivion. 

Every day, we preoccupy ourselves with things and activities that make us feel we can live forever. Whether it is with the next thing we are scheming to buy, the next trip to plan for, or the next social media post to doom scroll to, we believe there is a next day for us. 

But it's not just things; we are people who like to break the speed limit of life. What I mean by that is that we like to push our speed and rhythm of life to the limit as though our cruise control can be on forever!

That is until we get that phone call from the doctor about our last blood work. Or the unexpected call to our boss's office on a Monday morning. Or a car that didn't see us braking at an intersection. And then, suddenly, reality stops us in our tracks. 

Friends, we are people, especially Christians, who need constant reminders that we are fading with every second, and Ash Wednesday and Lent are this period of time when we need to stop and ask what is truly important in our lives. 

There are two things that can help us in making the most of the next 40 days. 

First, Slowing Down to See Clearly. 

The drive to Banff from Calgary is one of the most beautiful experiences for Albertans. Driving through the Rockies, even as a driver, we can't help but turn our heads and stare for as long as we can before we have to turn our eyes back to the road. 

But as we are driving through at 110 km/hr, the truth is, those majestic views just pass by way too fast. If only we could slow down and stop whenever we wanted.

Lent is a time when we practice slowing down so we can see clearly and take stock of our lives. 

It is a time when we look in the mirror and ask ourselves: 

Do I see my fragility, brokenness, and sin? 

Oftentimes, we use our busyness to distract us from dealing with our brokenness and sins. And so we live at a pace that doesn't allow for time to deal with the ugliness of our sins and failures.

But the Prophet Isaiah reminds us, (Isaiah 64:6)

For all of us have become like one who is unclean,

And all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment;

And all of us wither like a leaf,

And our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.

We desperately need time and space to meditate and remember our own sinfulness and brokenness, and the period of Lent can help us to slow down and ask ourselves to reflect on our hearts, minds, motives, and what we truly love and trust. 

We need to slow down so we can see ourselves more clearly. And maybe that's what you need to do this season. For you to not just give up some things but give up your time, your packed schedule, and your busyness so God can bring you closer to the cross. 

Second, Giving up to Receive Abundantly

One of the practices of Lent is giving up something; things, or activities that we rely on. Things we consider essentials to our daily lives.

We do this because, at the end of it all, nothing lasts, everything turns to dust, and nothing can sustain us forever except one thing. 

The Prophet Isaiah tells us,

"All people are like grass,    

and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field.

The grass withers and the flowers fall,    

because the breath of the Lord blows on them.    

Surely the people are grass.

The grass withers and the flowers fall,    

but the word of our God endures forever."

What is the thing that is sustaining your life today? What do you think you can't live without today?

Is it your bank account, relationships, social media, your work, or a video game that helps you escape your work? 

Do you truly believe that God's word is all you need? Could you put yourselves to the test?

Friends, Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, where we step into the wilderness to intentionally break away from the things we lean on. Things and activities that we think we need to get us through our messy lives. But instead of those things and activities, what we really need is to commit ourselves with this prayer, "Lord Jesus, you are the LORD of my life and Father, your word is the only sustenance I need in my short, fragile existence. "

As we begin our journey to Good Friday and Easter, my prayer is that all of us will be able to see clearly and receive abundantly this Lent season. And as we slow down and offer up all those things and activities we see as essentials to our lives, we may experience the richness of God's presence and the renewal of our hearts, minds, and souls.