My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
and are so far from my cry
and from the words of my distress?
O my God, I cry in the daytime but you do not answer;
by night as well, but I find no rest.
I am poured out like water;
all my bones are out of joint;
my heart within my breast is melting wax.
My mouth is dried out like a pot-sherd;
my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
and you have laid me in the dust of the grave.
Be not far away, O Lord;
You are my strength; hasten to help me.
(Psalm 22:1-2,14-15,18)
I don’t know about you, but I am tired. Bone tired. Weary, worn. I’m tired of COVID-19 precautions, tired of “remote learning,” tired of telehealth and teleworking. I’m tired of freaking myself out every time I sneeze, and obsessing that my allergy symptoms might be something far worse.
I’m tired of learning about yet more infections, still more deaths, saddened that people are still getting sick even with vaccines and mask mandates and social distancing. And frankly I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a job. I can work from home most days. And because I do sometimes work at the hospital (or the outpatient clinic) I’m vaccinated. And I know people twice my age who are still waiting. And the grief… so much grief.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. Tired, weary, worn, lamenting that here we are in Lent once again and it feels like not much has changed. Once again Holy Week will be online? Again?! Unbelievable. But here we are.
Are you still with me? Good. So what word of hope can we find this day? For me, I’m continuing to take hope in what’s said and not said in our lectionary readings, prayers, and services. (What a gift that we can at least gather together online!) Our lectionary passages for this week remind us of God’s covenant with Abraham and Sarah (Genesis 17:1-7,15-16), reassure us of God’s faithfulness and our own welcome through faith (Romans 4:13-25) that God is with the poor in our distress, feeding and sustaining us (Psalm 22:22-30), and that following Jesus looks like the way of cross and resurrection (Mark 8:31-38). It’s that latter part that speaks most to me today.
The way of discipleship, of following Jesus, is the way of cross and resurrection. In the Season of Lent we are invited, challenged, to examine our lives and see in our faithfulness and suffering, and suffering faithfully, the presence and power of God. And thanks be to God we are invited to be honest.
It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay not to take on new Lenten disciplines because for the past year it’s felt like a fast. (It’s fine to take on new disciplines, or renew disciplines too!)
This Lent I think the invitation is to let God in to the tiredness, the exhaustion, the burnout, the sadness, the Lament. It is through that process, seeing God with us in our cross-carrying, that we are able to proclaim and to experience’s God’s resurrection power.
The Psalmist didn’t get to his “Praise the Lord” (which we’ll hear on Sunday) without an honest-to-goodness bellyache in the first half of the Psalm – a heart bared to God begging for deliverance.
I think it’s important for us to remember that Jesus spoke these words. In reciting Psalm 22 from the cross Jesus sanctified the full range of human emotions as worthy of speaking in prayer. So, it’s okay to be tired! And it’s okay to be tired of being tired. (And tired of hearing other people complain about being tired!)
My prayer this Lent, my hope, is that whatever our experience we might invite God closer in. That we would give to Christ Jesus even these experiences, trusting that somehow, miraculously, new life will come.
Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your son our Lord. Amen. (BCP, p99)
-Ryan Parker