Lenten Shame, Easter Joy, and One Year of Pandemic Living

Hello, all.  Happy Easter!

Spring is finally arriving here in Wisconsin, as well as the one year anniversary of living through a pandemic.  

Since March of 2020, we have...

                                                Recorded a diocesan worship service in our living room

Waved at Jason's preschool teachers from their cars

Got really creative with the toys in the house

Signed Jason up for an abbreviated, masked, sanitized season of T-ball

Went on a socially distanced, short trip to Michigan to save our sanity

Spent a LOT of time outside

Sent Jason safely back to school in the fall with masks and sanitizer

Celebrated Nora's first birthday... just the four of us

Milked the temperate fall weather well into early December with MORE outside time

Celebrated Jason's fifth birthday... just the four of us

Celebrated Christmas... just the four of us

Finally got back onstage, even if it meant dancing in masks with no audience

Went on a safe, short trip to Galena Illinois

and finally... Celebrated Easter with two vaccinated grandparents!

What. A. Year.  We thank God for our healthy family, a wonderful home to spend so much time in, the magic of the internet, and science.

When I was growing up in and out of the church, I never participated in Lent.  I learned some not-so-great theology about it -- it was only for Catholics, and it was all about denying yourself something (usually chocolate) for 40 days to remember Jesus fasting in the desert for 40 days.  I never thought much about it.  Then, we made the humongous leap into seminary and the Episcopal church, and I was suddenly re-learning the meaning of Lent (the first lesson being that it wasn't limited to Catholics).  I learned I could choose to fast from something or take on a spiritual discipline, such as a daily devotional or office.  Fasting could be broken on feast days.  I could choose to participate, or not.  And if I chose to participate but occasionally messed up and broke my fast or forgot my discipline... it wasn't a big deal.

Cool.  So, I prepared for my very first Lent like I was preparing for a marathon.  I prayed about what I would give up and what I would take on.  I did my very best to set myself up for complete and total success.  I made it about three weeks into Lent before I messed up.  I can't even tell you what I fasted from or what I took on as a spiritual discipline, but whatever it was, I just forgot all about it one day.  It must've been a busy day.  Regardless, I was smothered in shame.  I wanted so desperately to experience all these new-to-me things in my new spiritual journey, and I was so mad at myself for screwing it up that I gave up my Lenten practices completely, vowed to try again next year, and spent the rest of Lent in a shame spiral.

The same thing happened the next three years.

When Lent 2021 rolled around, I decided to approach it differently.  Maybe I was tired of dealing with the BS from the last pandemic year, or maybe I've just grown on this spiritual journey (probably a combination of both).  I chose my Lenten practice, got started, and got distracted again.  That horrible feeling of shame started resurfacing, but this time, I stopped the feeling before it overwhelmed me.  And this became my new Lenten practice -- saying "no" to shame.

Over the past several years, I have found myself unlearning a lot of what was taught to me in my previous experience of church.  Much of this work has been done privately and in my own head, but this was such a powerful lesson for me.  

I casually grew up in the church, but really became more involved as a teenager in a different church.  This was where I found myself surrounded by other teens who could run circles around me with their knowledge of the Bible, their contemporary Christian music, and their youth group antics.  I tried my best to fit in, but I couldn't hang.  I didn't know the song that helps you memorize the books of the Bible.  I didn't know where to locate the major stories in the Bible.  I didn't pray every day.  I didn't know any of Chris Tomlin's songs by heart.  I didn't have a purity ring, or a WWJD bracelet, or a single church camp T-shirt.  I was still accepted by these new friends, but I always felt like an outsider.  I felt so ashamed.

Fast forward about 15 years.  I was confronted with the most graceful theology I had ever experienced, and I didn't know how to take it.  I couldn't believe that I was hearing a full-blown, collar-wearing clergy person telling me that it was perfectly okay if I slipped up during Lent.  I'm not Jesus, after all.  But thanks to those old, unresolved feelings of shame, I told myself that I was going to follow all the Lenten rules perfectly.  I guess I needed to prove to my younger self that I was spiritually strong.  I didn't realize that the need to fit in to a certain set of rules was buried so deep in me.  After messing up and feeling terrible about it over and over again, I realized what I really needed to learn was how to truly accept grace.  There was no legalism prize to be won.  

I think it's important to take an occasional inventory of the thoughts and ideas we align ourselves with.  It's also important to feel okay with letting go of anything that we no longer believe in, or anything that is doing more harm than good.  There are times on this journey where I feel like I've let go of so much, maybe too much at times.  But the new freedom and grace I have found has been more than enough to cover the old shame.