I usually love this time of year. The winds start to blow a bit more briskly, the sun comes out, and the gentle rains have nourished the wildflowers growing all across the Texas landscape. Because of the nice weather, I begin to feel that surge of energy to go into my garage woodshop and create something. The only part that I don't necessarily like about Spring is that when the sun shines after the winds have blown, I am made aware of the dirt that exists in the crevices of my garage - because they are now all over the garage! Spring cleaning is in order!
A good spring cleaning can actually be therapeutic. It is more than just sweeping up the sawdust and brushing away the cobwebs that have accumulated over the winter. It has a zen-like quality when you know that you are shedding things that you know you really shouldn't have kept in the first place. The various and sundry items that we amass have an attraction to them. (I remember my father boasting once upon a time about his garage as being "well-equipped." "If it isn't in there, you didn't need it!" was his favorite saying.) We keep the odd part, the extra nuts and bolts, the salvagable components of a repair project, all in the hopes that someday, we might just "need" it. And so it is shelved, or placed in the cabinet, the drawer, or elsewhere in storage until the time when it will "rescue the day."
Of course, purging the unnecessary can be a difficult thing as well. The things that we've grown accustomed to can have an attachment to us. A favorite tool, or a comfortable (albeit worn) pair of gloves, old work boots, can have a connection to us in some way that makes us feel the need to hang on to them. Not because they cannot be replaced, but because they have meaning and purpose. (Also, as my father was want to say, "they have a story.")
Ironically, the same can be true of many of our old habits, especially when it comes to our faith. The things that we have picked up along the way can have an odd way of adhering to us that will weigh us down. Like so many barnacles on the bottom of a boat, we find that we are weighted down, and as a result, slowed down. Before long, we find ourselves lugging around the habits, the vestiges, the remnants of days gone by, hoping that someday they will come back into style for us, and we'll once again be cruising along in our faith. Unfortunately, we find ourselves taking on water, but don't know why. Or worse, we find ourselves having to make the disturbing decision of what to salvage, and what to throw overboard, before we sink to the bottom of spiritual ineffectiveness.
The Season of Lent offers us a chance to radically look at who we are, and what we carry with us into the journey of the wilderness of faith. (Envision here the ice-breaker game of "You are going on a long journey across the desert - you can only bring one thing. What would it be?") Streamlining, cleaning house - the house of our spirit - is a primary focus of the Lenten season. In order to once again be drawn closer to God's will, what would you eliminate? What would be the absolute essentials that you know you cannot live without - and then ask yourself, "With the power of the Holy Spirit, is this even necessary for me to be faithful to who God is calling me to be?"
It's time. Spring is almost here. And I can't stand the dustbunnies in my garage (or my soul) a minute longer. I'm rolling up my sleeves, and I'm going to get cleaning... I invite you to get some spring cleaning in as well. See you in Church!
Grace and peace,
Brad
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