Everyone is trying to ‘Easter-fy’ my Lent!
By Annie (Beckstrand) Horner, MA
In her New York Times best-selling memoir Everything Happens for a Reason & Other Lies I’ve Loved, Duke Divinity associate professor Kate Bowler pens the above line in the throes of her stage IV cancer diagnosis. She writes how in the season of Lent, the very time that the church as a whole is invited to reflect on the reality of death and suffering, she feels forced to pretend all is fine. After attending a Good Friday service with bright lights, peppy worship songs, and bubbly ‘Happy Good Friday!’ greetings, she believes there is no place to feel or acknowledge the reality of her own suffering. Is Good Friday supposed to feel… good?
While the English language calls this day “Good Friday”, other languages settled on “Holy Friday”, even “Black Friday”. Throughout Christian history, it was practice not to say Alleluia (“Christ is risen”) in neither word nor song. Christians allowed their bodies and souls to embody the weight that the Messiah did die. Rather than rushing to the resurrection, they felt the emptiness of hope, the reality of the disciples fleeing, and the slice in history when God’s great plan seemingly “failed” in the face of the first followers. Lent, Maundy Thursday, and Holy Friday and Saturday was meant to be a season of attunement toward the present age, where suffering and the Evil one still takes power (1 John 5:19) and our lives are not always how we hoped. This attunement season wasn’t just spiritual, but experiential, as Lent is traditionally practiced by putting aside comforts and pleasures to not only orient themselves to these realities, but be formed by them. Lent is the call to listen and to study our pain rather than live in the continued lie that suffering is non existent. It is to acknowledge the in between of what many live with everyday: things are still not as they should be. The resurrection is a reality of our faith, and yet it only comes after the death for our lost souls.
This isn’t just a church problem. Studies have shown that, compared to other cultures, Western culture, particularly Americans, have very little practices, rituals, or spaces that prepares them for the reality of death and suffering. The typical Westerner, with all our comforts and abilities, thinks very little of the possibility of suffering, and death, allowing it to remain an unspoken fear buried underneath good thoughts. We choose our drug of choice to numb our pain, whether it be alcohol, smartphones, TV shows, or the next vacation. This American allergy to hardship and endings sneaks its way into our Sunday mornings, theologies, and songs; yet Scripture speaks of suffering as one of the ways through which God profoundly works in our lives. Rather than objects of pity, Scripture has higher things to say for those who have been marked by suffering.
Here is what I believe is the kicker: whether we know it or not, we have all been marked by pain on this side of Eden. If we think we haven’t, then we might not be “lucky” but rather, numb. This is not to shame those who are numb… There is a time where numbness is necessary in order to survive and serves as a way to get us through trauma. Yet, we can only begin to let go of numbness when our hearts trust that it is safe to do so.
Being numb to pain creates problems. Because pain, rather than something to be rid of, is a signal attempting to save our hearts, souls, and bodies. The issue of the allergy against pain is that it treats it as an enemy rather than our help. My husband, who is a quadriplegic wheelchair user, is paralyzed from the chest down with numbness throughout different areas. While this may be to his advantage when I attempt to tickle him back and he can’t feel (grrr!), he has to take extra caution that there are no cuts or scraps where he cannot feel. He checks himself over, ensuring there is not a wound he does not know about… because without pain, a small wound could go unnoticed, and if not cared for properly could turn to something much, much bigger. Pain is helpful and essential to survive, telling us “something is wrong”. We may look at our stories and see only “small wounds” - nothing that would make the local news. Yet if we haven’t done the work to listen and tend to places we have faced hurt, bitterness, and betrayal, these wounds gain more control.
“So happy I found this blog today” you may be thinking to yourself sarcastically - and I am there with you as I write. Yes, even as a therapist, pain is difficult to face and I’d rather not think of it. I have to continually train my heart, body, and spirit not to fix the pain I see with a verse or platitude, but rather listen to it, sit with it, study it even, to get to its source. Because Scripture’s purpose was never to lift away pain, but give voice to it; it was never to soften it, but instead expose it. “You have put me in the lowest pit… I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief” says Psalm 88. Theologian Walter Bruggermann calls Psalms like this one “Psalms of Disorientation,” and rather than for the unlucky few that resonate with them, he purports they are a rhythm of life. They have no happy endings; only cries, shattered by the experiences that turned their world upside down.
The Psalmist's task is to be honest and articulate what is inside. Bruggermann goes on to say that Psalms of Reorientation are written after God has met them in their pain and spoken: “Out of my distress I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free.” (Psalm 118:5). The pressure on us to reorient ourselves through force or positive thinking is off; instead, we tell Him as honestly as we can what is inside. How we are reoriented after is left to His wisdom and care.
So here is the call for Lent: do not to easter-fy it. While resurrection will be true in the age to come, we must make the pilgrimage through Painful Friday and Devastating Saturday to arrive on Resurrection Sunday… a Sunday that, while victorious in nature, never denied the scars with smooth skin (John 20:27).
Lent is the invitation every year to shed our pleasures and notice what arises when the noise quiets down; the call to check for wounds and acknowledge scars; and the reminder to sit in a loved one’s pain with no solutions or balms. For those who persevere and do the difficult work of not numbing themselves to pain will be “blessed” and “receive the crown of life” (James 1:12). Our hope is we have a Savior who did this very work and shed his own tears as he attuned to the pain before Him. Lent is an invitation to trust Him where we wish to run from, allowing Him to form them into His story in us which in its own way, makes it “good”. Not because it’s easy or light or tastes sweet to the lips, but because it joins a story worth telling.
If you have not had the opportunity to process your story or pain with another, or want to begin to move forward from your habits of numbing, contact one of our Living Wholehearted professional counselors to begin the journey towards living wholehearted.
If you want to hear more about the theology of suffering from Annie's husband, Cameron. Consider listening to his interview on the Living Wholehearted Podcast, released HERE on April 22nd.
To meet directly with Annie, email annie@livingwholehearted.com for to schedule a 15 minute consult or schedule an appointment.