February 10, Ash Wednesday, will usher in the beginning of Lent. I always appreciate Lent's timing. The Christmas season and Epiphany have come and gone. The greetings of "Happy New Year!" grow quiet and our schedules again fill with appointments, weeks and even months in advance. Just when it seems to be "business as usual," we are reminded to pause and reflect once more that truly there is no such thing. If we attend an Ash Wednesday service, we will hear the words quietly spoken to us, that we are of dust and to dust we shall return. That knowledge should really help lighten our load, but in the inexplicable ways of humans, we too often prefer to increase our burdens and struggle on. Lent gives us permission to set at least some of these burdens down.
I woke this morning thinking of someone I met several years ago. I shall call him Joseph. He was in his late 70's and was struggling with some hearing loss. Regardless, he was still singing and playing piano, and he helped with some SpiritCare services. He was not driving then, so I was surprised when he told me that he attended a small Filipino church about 20 miles from his home. He had even given his car to a friend, but fortunately, his friend did feel some obligation to drive Joseph where he needed to go. However, since both of them were Caucasian, I finally had to ask why they traveled so far when so many churches were closer. He simply responded, "Because they talk about my Lord Jesus."
Joseph told me that he grew up in a wealthy family. He was able to travel much of the world by performing and teaching music. His talent, flamboyant personality and artistic flair helped garner him many invitations. Yet, there was some unhappiness in his life, and stress, unease, and addiction also journeyed with him.
He credited seeing Rembrandt's, "The Return of the Prodigal Son," as his point of conversion. It is a strong painting, and probably being able to see it in person would bring most of us to our knees. I do not know much about that pivotal experience, but I know as he gazed upon the surrender of the son into the loving embrace of the father, Joseph understood that there was hope for him. I think he may have felt love for the first time. He sobered up. Years later, as his memory began to fail, he would often quote Psalm 16: "The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; I have a goodly heritage."
Lent is a humble acknowledgement of our mortal boundaries and a celebration of our divine inheritance. On March 19, I will facilitate a short workshop ( 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.) at First Church in Redwood City. In our short time together, we will explore in community who Jesus is to us. I look forward to hearing both the stories and the questions. If you would like more information or have a story to share do not hesitate to let me know. I promise that you and your stories will be treated with love and gratitude.
I read today that Rembrandt may have painted this beautiful painting during the last two years of his life. Maybe, he, too, was experiencing the longing of being home once more.
Blessings on your journey,
Sue Ann
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