A slightly different version was posted at a2ObservesLent.com, a Lenten devotional site I’m editing for my church.

Lent originated as a time for believers to follow Christ in His wilderness experience—hence the 40 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. For many modern Christians, Lent as “wilderness experience” becomes what one of my kids described as “roughing it” when I asked what Lent was about. In the “roughing it” approach to Lent, we give up things we like in order to make ourselves suffer for a while. Jesus suffered; I should suffer. He gave up His life, so I should give up my iPad. Roughing it turns Lent into a really long, really unpleasant camping trip at a wilderness resort with no running water or bathrooms. You bear it because you have to, but you can’t wait to get back to all the comforts of real life.

I don’t think that’s what the early church had in mind when they set aside time to prepare for Easter. More importantly, I don’t think that Jesus went into the wilderness with the thought that He was “roughing it.” Yes, Matthew, Mark, and Luke all say that Jesus was led into the wilderness and that there He was tempted or tested. But was He gritting His teeth and wishing the angels would come and whisk Him back to Nazareth? I don’t think so.

Christians of the fourth century used Lent as a preparation for baptismal celebrations that were often associated with Easter; Lent was a spiritual journey. Similarly, Jesus was led (yes, led by the Spirit!) into the wilderness to be tested and to prepare for His ministry. He didn’t suffer for the sake of suffering; He had a purpose. We get a clue into Jesus’ perspective when we hear His response to Satan’s temptation to turn stones into bread so that He could eat:

“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4)

No doubt Jesus was seriously hungry, but in an important sense, He wasn’t starving. He had been feasting on something better than regular food—time with the Father. I can’t help but think Jesus had in mind David’s words:

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! (Psalm 34:8)

I’m excited by the prospect of Lent, by the opportunity to go on a journey of preparation, to answer the invitation to taste and see for myself that God is indeed good. Yes, I will be giving up some things along the way, but not so I can rough it. No, I choose to give up one thing in order to receive something—Someone—much better.

Do you celebrate Lent? How would you describe Lent to someone else? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Longtime readers, if you still exist, will no doubt expect that this post is my reintroduction after a long absence—and perhaps it should be, but I’ll save that for another day.

No, I’ve been thinking about names. My dog has many names: she’s Haley, Pookie, Pookienem, Bronto-schnauzer, Sweetheart, Good Girl, and occasionally, when in trouble, Haley Butcher (parents, you know the drill—say the full name to get your kid’s attention; same thing here). One thing she is never, ever called: Bad Dog. As I told Isaac and Anna the other day when they were chastising Haley, “She is not a bad dog; what she did is bad, but we will never call her bad, just like I would never call you bad.”

This thought process started  a few weeks ago with a visit to the loldogs site:

I wonder how many of us are secretly, in our heart of hearts, dammitdog? Of course, we wouldn’t actually say it, at least not out loud. But if you’re like me, you say similar things in your head all the time: Stupid, Fat, Loser, Worthless, SOB…the list goes on, and many of the names are much worse, unspeakable in polite society. Some of these names come from family; it’s unfortunate that few of us grow up thinking deep down that we are Whozmysweetboymommylovesyou. (Which makes me very mindful of what I call my children!) Other names come from a spouse, teacher, “friend,” someone we dated, a bully—and often, ourselves. Regardless of the source, we internalize and repeat these names ad infinitum.

In the movie Evan Almighty, Evan Baxter repeats affirmations to himself: “I’m happy, powerful, successful, handsome.” Though it’s played as a joke, his behavior is actually on target; we could all use some daily affirmations—new names—to help us see ourselves differently.

With that in mind, here are a few names you can and should call yourself over and over. Try saying My name is

• child of God (Jn 1:12)
• beloved (Eph 5:1)
• Christ’s friend (Jn 15:15)
• chosen (Jn 15:16)
• son of God (Gal 3:26)
• joint heir with Christ (Rom 8:17)
• temple of God (1 Cor 3:16)
• new creation (2 Cor 5:17)
• saint (Eph 1:1)
• strong in the Lord (Eph 6:10)
• righteous and holy (Eph 4:24)
• citizen of heaven (Phil 3:20)
• delivered (Col 1:13)
• rooted in Christ (Col 2:7)
• holy and dearly loved (Col 3:12)
• child of light (1 Thess 5:5)
• holy brother (Heb 3:1)
• justified (Rom 5:1)
• free forever from condemnation (Rom 8:1)
• more than a conqueror (Rom 8:37)
• sanctified (1 Cor 6:11)
• God’s workmanship (Eph 2:10)

I’m going to say these aloud to myself for the next week and report back on my findings; I encourage you to do the same. Are there names or passages in Scripture that you use as affirmations? Share them in the comments below.

I found this beautiful poem several months ago on Rob Marsh's blog and have been eagerly waiting for Easter to post it. As I have been reading Adrian Warnock's Raised With Christ and seen more and more tweets from various believers about the importance of the resurrection, these lines have taken on even more resonance. I find the first stanza breath-taking its declaration that without a literal, physical resurrection, “the Church will fall.” The poem is by John Updike.

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

a2’s men’s group met this morning for the start of the spring semester. As we shared our dreams and goals for 2010, a recurring theme was calling: “I want to know what my purpose is”; “I don’t want to wonder what I’m supposed to do; I want to be certain”; “It’s time for me to use my talents.” Not all of us spoke this aloud, but I suspect all but two or three in the group could say that we either need help in identifying our calling or we need to get moving in what we know. The “two or three” I excluded seem to me to be clear on what God has called them to do, and they are purposeful about moving forward in that. In my experience, the men with clarity and forward motion are the rarities, and as much I would like to say I’m one of them, I have to be honest and say that I’m not.

I drove home from Panera feeling rather heavy, thinking, Okay, Dan, you’re almost 46; time to get it together and Dude, what’s your problem? What a blessing it was, then, to sit down and listen to Pray-as-you-go's devotional for today, which focused on 2 Timothy 1:1–9. It seems we’re not alone in lacking clarity and forward motion; look at what Paul tells Timothy right at the start of this letter: “I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God,” or as The Message says, “And the special gift of ministry you received when I laid hands on you and prayed—keep that ablaze!”

Imagine this: you are a young man, and the world’s greatest missionary and evangelist takes a special interest in you. He spends time with you and your family, gets to know you, and eventually, he even lays hands on you and prays for God’s giftings and calling to be made evident in your life. Most of us would think that’s a sure ticket to spiritual power and performance: the Apostle Paul himself prayed for you. And yet we see that Timothy, like many (most?) of us, struggles to live out what’s inside.

I don’t know about you, but I take a lot of comfort in Timothy’s struggle, and I’m grateful that the Holy Spirit saw fit to include these details of Timothy’s life for all of us to read and learn from. For one, it reminds me that spiritual pedigree or connectedness here on earth is no guarantee of success: if the prayer and anointing of an apostle doesn’t do it, what can? And of course, I’m reminded that even those who spent time with Jesus daily couldn’t get or keep it together all the time.

So to Dude, what’s your problem? I say, Lighten up! I’m in good company.

But I can’t stop there: such a response, though accurate, becomes an excuse by itself. And fortunately, Paul doesn’t stop with “get it together, Timothy!” He goes on with some encouragement: “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (NKJ). What a great promise! This tells me God has provided what I need to have clarity and forward motion in my own calling.

It will take me some time to unpack what’s in this promise, but I don’t have to fully get it to be strengthened by it. Today I can remind myself, “I have power, love, and a sound mind.” And that’s a step forward.

Short version: worth reading, but don’t give it to kids who believe in Santa.

The True Saint Nicholas: Why He Matters to Christmas is an easy and informative read. Bennett is a masterful storyteller, transforming what could be a dry encyclopedia entry into an engaging tale. The book is divided into three sections of three chapters each: Life of Nicholas, Legends of Nicholas, and Legacy of Nicholas.

In Part One, Bennett takes the sparse historical materials as well as the legends and hagiographies and combines them into an interesting story of Nicholas’ life, filling in cultural and historical details and making clear what’s certain and what’s supposition. I appreciated Bennett’s occasional use of Scripture and focus on Nicholas’ faith and service to God. This is not about a historical figure who happens to matter to Christians; this is about a Christian who happens to matter to history.

Part Two shows the transformation of Nicholas from godly man to saint invoked and capitalized on by virtually every group, from sailors to merchants to women trying to conceive.  Part Three moves to the transformation of Nicholas into Santa Claus. Bennett gives some attention to European variants like the Dutch Sinterklaas, but his primary focus is the genesis of the American Santa of “The Night Before Christmas” and Coca-Cola advertising. I found this particularly interesting as I was unaware of the history and didn’t realize how very American Santa is.

The jacket states that in this book, “Most of all, you will discover why this saintly man who has influenced our most beloved holiday throughout the years is evidence of God’s love, and why he does, indeed, matter to Christmas.” Certainly Bennett makes good on the first claim: Nicholas’ life is an inspiring story of a loving God at work in and through a man submitted to His will.

I’m not so sure about the second claim, though. Here’s what Bennett has to say:

But the stories of Saint Nicholas and Santa Claus are arguably true in a more important way. They are morally true. They offer generosity, kindness, justice, and self-sacrifice over avarice, cruelty, injustice, and self-indulgence. They are about the celebration of human closeness and decency, and the caring for others. They are about families at the hearth. In their totality, they are about the raising of sights and efforts toward a better life.

Is Nicholas worth knowing about? Absolutely. And Bennett shows that Santa and a faith-oriented Christmas are not incompatible. But for me, this final statement about the truth that can be found in Santa is a bit of a stretch. Does that make the book less worthwhile? No. It was definitely worth reading, and I would recommend it.

On a side note, The True Saint Nicholas is a beautifully designed book. For those of us who want our books to be both intellectually engaging and aesthetically pleasing, it delivers. It’s also short: 114 pages of large print, so it reads quickly.

A final note about children: I bought this thinking I would share it with my kids, but the only one that will read it any time soon is the teenager. Our younger two still believe in Santa, and while Bennett doesn’t come out and say that Santa doesn’t exist, the explanation of Santa’s history might burst the bubble for some. I could see reading Part One about the life of Nicholas to my children–the style is very accessible, and they would enjoy the story. But I won’t be passing the book around the family for several years.

Purify my conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at His coming, may find in me a mansion for Himself; who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Almighty God, give all of us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when He shall come again in His glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through Him who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

O God, you have taught me to keep all your commandments by loving you and my neighbor: Grant me the grace of your Holy Spirit, that I may be devoted to you with my whole heart, and united to others with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, on God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Almighty and everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: Pour upon your church the abundance of your mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

I concluded my last post with the idea that Jesus’ wisdom in dealing with difficult people was the result of filtering their actions and His responses through love–what I termed a “love filter.”

I should note here that a love filter isn’t rose-colored glasses; choosing to filter people and the world through love is not choosing to ignore problems or act as if none exist. We saw last time that Jesus didn’t ignore problems; rather, He had the wisdom to know when to confront and when to overlook.

So the question becomes, “How do we love as Jesus loved? How do we develop that wisdom?” This is by no means an exhaustive list, but here are two things that are helping me.

See people from an eternal perspective: I touched on this in my first post about annoying people. Reminding myself that the lost are lost and need my compassion helps me to filter out some annoying behavior. My pastor said recently that we will never lock eyes with anyone who doesn’t matter to God. While I might write off someone as beyond redemption or beneath my notice, God never does that. To return to my current “problem person,” Alan matters to God. Let me say that more emphatically: Alan matters deeply to God, and God’s dearest desire is to see Alan restored to relationship with Him. How can I show disdain for that which God values so highly?

Pray blessings on them: Years ago, I heard a preacher say that loving our enemies was very hard to do, but we could turn Jesus’ teaching around and find a path to that place of love. Here’s what Jesus said:

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” (Luke 6)

This wise man said start at the end of the list: pray first, then bless, then do good, and eventually you’ll find yourself actually loving the person that seems like an enemy.

What to pray? We might be tempted to pray with David that God would strike the heads of His enemies, but that would be the wrong approach–no matter how satisfying it might be in the moment! Me, I have trained myself to go beyond, “God, deal with this person” to “Father, I don’t know what this person needs, but You do. Bless him.” And then I add, “Bless not so he’ll be easier to deal with, but bless him because You love him.”

It’s hard to stay angry with anyone for whom we are regularly praying in love; those prayers bless not only those we name but also ourselves. Praying for God to bless someone helps us to get and keep that eternal perspective.

Filtering people’s behavior through God’s eternal perspective and praying blessings on them can–will–change our hearts toward the annoying people in the world. It helps us see them differently. Next time, we’ll tackle another part of this process: how we see ourselves.

Till then, add a comment that tells us how you deal with annoying people.