A Well-Storied Lent
Ok, so last Wednesday I went all grumpy on the idea of Lent, suggesting that it might be getting the Christian story wrong. The back-story on that one is that I have wrestled on and off with the power of rediscovery of church tradition to be a divisive force in the church. The same dynamic I witness with people who get all excited about a particular kind of theology (especially Reformed, but not exclusively) I see working at times in my friends who discover liturgy and church calendar (often through Anglican or Episcopal churches).
But far be it from me to only advocate for one side of an argument, especially when I can come back four days later and offer the other with a good conscience. So I will.
It has struck me over the past several days that Lent has the potential to open our eyes to the fundamental narrative dynamic of the Christian life, namely, its cross-shaped character.
Last year I was teaching my course on Acts-Revelation. I told the class that in the summer I’d be teaching “The Cross in the New Testament,” and they asked, “How is that different from this class?!” That’s when I knew I’d done well.
For a people and nation glutted on excess, power, comfort, and glory, Lent can be a salutary reentry into the cruciform narrative of Christianity. We follow Jesus. And to follow Jesus means to walk the way of the cross.
I still have a beef: that churches would make things all dreary and stop saying “Hallelujah” and all that during these 46 days. In the spirit of those who break their fast on Sunday, I’d suggest that the church itself needs to observe such non-observance as well.
Why? Because the great surprise of the gospel narrative is that we sing “Hallelujah” not in spite of the cross but because of it. We sing hallelujah both because the Lamb has been slain and because we conquer with him through our blood and the word of our testimony.
So yes, be sober. Yes, sacrifice. Yes, exercise renewed discipline. But let’s not forget that these are the reasons to praise as much as (or more than) they are the things that need to be overcome in order to join the heavenly chorus.
[Editor's note: the writer has chosen to give up his Lenten discipline of not observing Lent--but only on Sundays when we all break our fasts in honor of the resurrection of Jesus.]
Glad to hear it!
And please, by all means, celebrate the Resurrection and all its feast-ly glory on Sundays. Some of us will still hold back the “Hallelujah/Alleluia!” so that the one we give on Easter morning has some additional punch to it, but as the Spirit leads, so may we all follow.
Amen!
Daniel, I love this emphasis on the cruciform nature of genuine Christianity and how radically unobserved it is in American churches.
Yet I have an honest question, if I can be so bold–how do you, as a fairly well off American with a great life, live this out? I don’t mean to single you out–I want to ask this of myself and every other professing believer around me. But to be fair, I see a lot of big-picture narrative theology being done (and wonderfully done!) by guys like you and M. Gorman, but not necessarily a lot of fleshing it out in terms of what it actually looks like in concrete practice in our daily lives.
Perhaps you could devote a post to this issue at some point? I would be absolutely fascinated to hear your thoughts on this practical issue. Thanks Daniel!
Thanks for your honest and bold question, Nick.. I have the same one for my esteemed professor Dr. Kirk. Can you elaborate what it means for you personally?
Respectfully submitted,
Mary Fields
In a sense, everything I blog about here falls somewhere into that practical application. “Don’t go to court over your building” is an application. “Create communities of self-giving love rather than self-aggrandizement.” “Pursue authenticity to who you’re becoming in Christ, not to the old self, the flesh that wars against the cruciform Spirit of Christ.”
Conversion of the imagination is the means to living out a cruciform existence. I think… What sorts of grids do you run decisions through? Is “How do I give life to the person in front of me,” high on the list? What about when qualified with, “even if it costs me (some aspect of) my own”?
Maybe there’s a reason I’m an academic. All of that sounds practical to me!
“For a people and nation glutted on excess, power, comfort, and glory, Lent can be a salutary reentry into the cruciform narrative of Christianity. We follow Jesus. And to follow Jesus means to walk the way of the cross.”
Bingo! I desperately need some kind of concrete practical on-the-ground aid to reinforce a cruciform narrative for me. Lent is such an ecclesial ‘aid’ and is a formative & helpful way for me with the wider Christian communion to pursue cross-shaped-ness not just in my(our) theological imagination, but in our embodied life together as the living communion of saints. your post is helpful toward that end.
[...] A reflection inspired by the reading of Daniel Kirk’s thoughts on Lent. [...]