We're back to Lent, and so quickly. Here I am, five days in and still struggling to decide what to give up for forty days.
It can't be television; I canceled my cable service over a month ago. I now watch local news and presidential appearances on my laptop and skip the network coverage altogether, thank you very much. If there's some clip I really want to see, there are a variety of video links to choose from.
I suppose I could give up my streaming services. Now, that would be a sacrifice. In the spirit of the season, I must confess that I haven't the willpower to sustain such an omission.
My customary Lenten commitment to spiritual reading remains strong. This year I'm slogging my way through Bishop Fulton J. Sheen's Life of Christ. Actually, I began the book during Advent and got 50% through it, then put it aside; I'm hoping to finish it by Easter. It takes some concentration--perhaps that's sacrifice enough?
One thing I noticed this year on Ash Wednesday that was unprecedented--several people had no idea what the black smudge on my forehead meant. Now, I'm accustomed to being one of the few in my workplace that wears the Lenten badge of ash (except for the years I worked in a Catholic hospital). But usually people knew what the mark indicated. Not this year. I had several fellow employees tell me, with alarm, that I had a black smudge on my forehead; one young lady went so far as to try to wipe it off before I stepped back and explained what it was. When I went out to lunch with coworkers that day, the cashier in the deli asked me about it. Again, I explained as simply as possible.
All of these individuals had many follow-up questions for me, which I answered as best I could (with a quick prayer that I wasn't screwing it up too badly). It would seem that, wherever God places us, our mission fields are all around us. Perhaps just in honestly answering earnest questions, Christians can be a witness to our faith. Maybe that's all we need to do for Lent.
