The season of Lent in the liturgical church calendar began on Wednesday, but it wasn't until this morning that I intentionally spent time going through what I want to give up this year, and more importantly, what I want to take on.
I'll guide you through how I came to my decision.
February has played its iconic role as the month of love for me this year. I met a wonderful young fellow at the end of January who is friendly, genuine, caring, talented, and overall rather impressive. We struck up a budding new friendship that soon developed into a prospect for something more. It was full of excitement, anticipation, and joy. But as our conversations progressed into deeper topics and later nights, I found myself wrestling with various emotions - and not all of them were pleasant.
I am aware that I am a rather lonely person when it comes to romantic love. I can only think of one year in my entire life that I was not seriously crushing on someone (and that was senior year of high school, when all the great catches seemed to be taken). Although I have become pretty realistic and sensible when it comes to love, I grew up a hopeless romantic. I never thought about dating; I dreamed of who I would marry. Since kindergarten I have spent each year of my life dreaming over some boy who I've desired to be my one true love. I usually developed my crushes at school in the fall, or during the late summer when I would attend my brothers' soccer/baseball/whatever sport they were playing practices and games. By the end of the school year I would be so in love with the boy, that somehow I would end up sharing my feelings with him.
In first grade, it was Ryan, who I held hands with during "story time" on the carpet squares while Mr. McNiff sat in his big comfy red chair and read to us. In second grade, it was Nathan, who I walked to lunch with and sat next to while we ate our pb and j sandwiches and swung our legs as one unit under the table in the cafeteria. In fourth grade it was Brad, a brother of one of the boys on my brother's soccer team. He was my first experience of rejection: I told him that I liked him, and for valentine's day he made me this sweet valentine on the computer that had the message "You are a great FRIEND!" in all caps neatly displayed inside it. In fifth grade I had it bad for Lauren, a boy on my other brother's baseball team, who I called at the end of the school year pretending I was at a sleepover and had been "dared" to ask if he had liked any other girl besides Jenna that school year. His answer of "no" was my second experience with rejection, although not as direct. Sixth grade was the mark of my first "boyfriend" who was none other than Ryan from first grade. I only started "dating" him because one day at recess all of the girls in our class rushed into the bathroom to tell me, "Kelsie, Ryan says he'll go out with you if you ask him." Not really knowing what "going out" meant, I said, "Ok. Let's go to the soccer field," and I proceeded to ask Ryan if he would be my "boyfriend." All of junior high consisted of similar "boyfriend" events with Frank, Justin, Robert, John, Billie, and Kevin.
In high school my crush began with David, the dreamy senior with blue eyes and beach-blonde hair, then moved to Andrew, Andrew, Ben, and finally Andrew again. College was then consumed with Jon and Jeff, as well as a few other randoms (Adam, Ben, Robert*, and the boys I met in Europe).
I can't tell if it's a good or bad thing that I can remember each boy I have liked or crushed on for my entire lifetime. They must have all meant something, though, right? That's a good sign that I genuinely cared for them in some way, right?
Anyways, the reason I went into all of that is because I have decided to give up men for my fast of lent. I have chosen to give up contacting my ex-boyfriend, whom I just can't seem to let go of (or stop bothering, though he's so nice he wouldn't say that to my face), and I've chosen to stop pursuing things further with this new gentleman. In place of giving up these men, I have chosen to take on Jesus, who was also a man, but the perfect man who all others fall short of (including myself).
I decided to take this step primarily because of all the various emotions I was experiencing during the process of getting to know this new guy. I'm not sure of what I want in my life, especially when it comes to romantic love. What I think I do know, however, is that I want someone who will be my best friend: someone I can talk to about anything, and though he may not be able to understand it all, he will at least be willing to listen, and most importantly, be willing to attempt understanding. I want to be with someone who will feel he can share anything he wants with me, and who will know that though I may not understand, I will be open to developing an understanding, compassion, and support for him. I want someone who I can learn from, and who can learn from me. I want someone who respects me and wants what's best for me, regardless of how that involves him. And I want to feel that same way about him: I want him to have the best and to follow what he needs and wants, regardless of how it concerns me. I want a man who values me above all as the person I am, not the person he wants me to be, nor the person he wishes I could be (or believes I can be). And I, likewise, want to love someone for exactly who they are, with all of their flaws, shortcomings, and ugliness included.
My life habit of constantly dreaming is, I think, what might be the cause of my loneliness when it comes to romantic love. I think I have always dreamed of the men I want and tried to find a guy who I could then make fit that mold. I think this has been the biggest cause of pain in my last relationship: I failed to love him for who he is, rather than who I thought he could be or should be, and I think he was guilty of the same act in his projection onto me the person he wished I could be. Presently, I think our friendship is strained because we both have yet to love each other for who we really are, not who we used to be or who we both feel the other person could (or should) be.
So I want to take this time of lent to stop dreaming of the man I want to have, and learn more about the man I DO have: Jesus. I know it sounds cliche and cheesy to love my ultimate "husband" (Jesus) and spend time getting to know him. But sometimes sayings have become cliche because of their truth that cannot be explained in any simpler way.
Today I spent time reading the beginning of the Gospel according to Matthew. In taking on Jesus this Lenten season, I have decided to read through the Gospels since that's where all the red letters are. This morning I came across Jesus' temptation in the desert - his 40 days of temptation and testing (Matthew 4:1-11). I was struck with the disheartening realization that I see myself above my Lord and Savior. I rarely fast or give things up for God, merely because I tell myself its a ritualistic tradition that doesn't really draw us closer to God, we only think it does. But after reading this passage, I was struck with conviction about my arrogance. Matthew tells us that Jesus was "led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil" (4:1). The commentary in this Bible (the Renovare Spiritual Formation Bible) states:
"Matt. 4:1 says it is the Spirit that led Jesus out into the wilderness to be tested. By definition God tests (intending to strengthen the believer's moral character) and the devil tempts (intending to destroy that selfsame character). Paradoxically, the same set of circumstances can be taken either as a test or a temptation depending on the response. Jesus responds as a believer . . . ."
How could I think that I would be above the same testing/tempting that my own Lord and ultimate life Teacher was subjected to? I see this Lenten season as my own wilderness-esque scenario of testing/temptation. Who will I ultimate love and obey: God or myself?
I often feel like I am my own devil. I make my own plans, my own dreams, of what (and who) I want, and then I connivingly create a scheme for going about getting what I want. Jesus was tempted by the same enticements from the devil to rely on his own power to make bread, command the angels, and ultimately rule the world (Matt. 4:3-10). But I think, as the commentators in this particular study Bible suggest, that Jesus saw the devil's temptation as a test of his love and devotion to God; and I think that ultimately Jesus did not want to deny that love or jeopardize his relationship with God. So, this is my model for the next 40-some days of lent (technically less now). I see difficult circumstances in relationships as a sort of testing that produces a stronger love and bond than the one we already possess; testing reinforces the truth that already exists, making it more refined and clear. So I hope that I can come out on the other side of these next forty days proclaiming just as Jesus did: "Away with you, Satan! For it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only Him'" (Matt. 4:10). And in Jesus' case, "the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him" (4:11). Perhaps such a victory can be mine, as well: the devil's burden of loneliness will be gone from me, and the love of God's angels will surround me, empowering me to love and minister to others, just as Jesus exemplified for all his followers to model.
