It began for me on Ash Wednesday, just a few weeks ago. Twice that day I had the sign of the cross smudged onto my forehead. Twice I somberly considered my own mortality, as we’re encouraged to do every year on the first day of Lent, beginning our annual journey to the cross and the empty tomb. This year, however, is was a little different for me. It shook me. It wasn’t the thought of death, nor the allusion of dust. It was a word that came to me as I prayed, almost as though whispered by the Spirit himself: insufficient. “You, Paul, marked with ashen cross, are insufficient.” Completely, utterly insufficient. What could I say? I knew as a husband, as a friend, as a follower of Jesus Christ, as a leader, and as a missionary, that it was true. There was no denying it.
A poll released just the other day claimed that the number one thing Christians are giving up for Lent this year is social media. In years past it was chocolate. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Traditionally, giving up certain luxuries or habits during Lent was intended to mirror in a small way Jesus’ forty day fast in the desert after his baptism. In truth, even a temporary measure of self-denial can help us acknowledge the ways we’ve put other things before God, and move us to seek him and his love more deeply. This is what fasting is for. I suspect, however, that God is asking the followers of Jesus to make far greater sacrifices than these. As the Psalmist has written: “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psalm 51:17)
What is God really calling us to “give up?” Jesus said to his disciples: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.” (Luke 9:23,24)
God would have us give up anything that might supplant his love and power and sovereignty in our lives, anything that would keep us from depending fully on him. Sadly, our own capabilities can be the culprits. Our God-given gifts and abilities can become idols. The ashes speak loudly: We are all but flesh! We are all insufficient! Like his first disciples, we are powerless and clueless. Let’s give up our sureness and certainty. Let’s give up our insistence on being right, our propensity for trying to fix everything, our need for answers to every question. Let’s give up all presumption and pretense. Let us acknowledge our insufficiency, our weakness, our helplessness, our desperate need for the Savior. And let us do this not only for Lent but for life! There is no other way, really, to come to Jesus. There is no other way to understand the cross.
Nor is there any other way, really, to fully appreciate the surprising miracle of Easter morning! Jesus explained things clearly to his disciples as they made their own Lenten journey: “We are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written by the prophets about the Son of Man will be fulfilled. He will be handed over to the Gentiles. They will mock him, insult him, spit on him, flog him and kill him. On the third day he will rise again.” The disciples did not understand any of this. Its meaning was hidden from them, and they did not know what he was talking about. (Luke 18:31-34, emphasis mine)
Yes, the disciples were clueless. They didn’t see it coming. But Easter was coming anyway!
Regardless of our insufficiency, God is more than sufficient, and only in embracing our insufficiency can we rely fully upon God. “My grace is sufficient for you,” Jesus told Paul, “for my power is made perfect in weakness.” This is the power of weakness! May we therefore, like Paul, “boast all the more gladly in [our] weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon [us].” (2 Corinthians 12:9) It may begin with the sobering reality of dust and ashes, but it culminates in the jubilant celebration of our Lord’s resurrection! Consequently, let us abandon the world’s illusion of self-reliance that we might be all the better prepared to receive the Easter announcement joyously, and to spread the Good News of his life-saving victory to the corners of the earth.