“Jesus returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. ‘Simon,’ he said to Peter, ‘are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ Once more he went and prayed. When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. They did not know what to say to him. Returning the third time, Jesus said to them, ‘Are you still sleeping and resting? Enough! The hour has come. Look, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! let us go! Here comes my betrayer.'” -Mark 40:37-41

To me, good phrases always come in three’s.

My grandmother and grandfather coined “heavy, deep and real” moments and since learning it myself, I have had many conversations with both of them about those moments in our lives. Repeated phrases like ones we sing every Sunday or recite to ourselves can be helpful reminders of important things to look out for. They can help train our memory.

I found myself the other day quite flustered with various life events all happening at the same time. Or at least it certainly felt like everything was crashing in one by one as I stood in my room trying to freeze them away. Of course, that didn’t work. But then a phrase, a good ‘ol three-word phrase came to me.

“Listen. Pay attention. Stay awake.”

I was able to breathe, first, and listen to my fears which were running around like they owned the place. Then I paid attention to the facts of each situation, one by one. Which meant I didn’t get to each and every situation I was ruminating over, of course. But I also decided to “stay awake” instead of running away from them altogether. And because I did that, I knew that in those other situations, when I came up to them again, I would be able to:

“Listen. Pay attention. Stay Awake.”

Isn’t that what Jesus asked of his disciples when he was praying in the garden? Isn’t that what God asked Adam and Eve while they were staying in the garden?

May we listen to the voice of God resonating through beautiful spring days, good soul music, or the living words of our Scriptures.  May we pay attention to the details of grace and frustration. And may we stay awake to wonder and pain which will come as surely as the presence of Jesus beaconing us to new life in the midst of it all.

-Leah Clements

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love;

according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.

You desire truth in the inward being;

therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;

wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

Let me hear joy and gladness;

let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and right spirit with me. -Psalm 51

I discovered a “treasure hidden in a field” a few years back when I flipped through the pages of a tiny bound book called Garden of Hollows: Entering the Mysteries of Lent & Easter at a flea market. In a classic “someone’s trash is another one’s treasure,” a flea market cast-off has become a gift that keeps on giving to me! What first drew me was the simple beauty of the book, with uneven hand-cut pages, a beautiful cover sheet with leaves pressed in and yet trying to burst out, and a few simple charcoal-like pictures. As I have read and re-read the book, taking care not to tear its delicate pages and bind, I remember why I am thankful it is so beautiful – because otherwise I would avoid ever opening it!

When I read the introduction which describes Lent as an invitation to “explore its hollows and, in so doing, to explore our own, to enter the sometimes stark spaces in our souls that we prefer to avoid,” I cringe. I have my hollows I like to avoid and being asked to “explore” them does not sound like a walk in the park. In fact, because hollows are usually shadowed and secret (and that’s how I want to keep it, thank you), exposing the contents fills me with fear.

 

The fear of exposure can be a strong force, and when I allow the fear to dictate my emotions and actions, I blindly run away from the people I love. But when I recognize the fear for what it is, I have the choice to claim it and “lean into it.” I think this is the painful process that Lent calls me into: the process of choosing vulnerability as a step towards love instead of running away.

 

Because like my beautiful and precarious treasure I found out of someone’s cast-offs, perhaps the most beautiful things are the most vulnerable and worn. As I embrace Lent and all that this season might take me through, perhaps I will discover that the secrets are not as evil as I think and the fears not as powerful as the love of friends, Beloveds and God – and a love for myself that I might learn to receive just as I am.  –Leah Clements