Lent: “I’ve been down this road before.”

On the morning of Saturday, December 16, 2023, I went for a run in our neighborhood. I took my 3/28/2011 route.

This route takes me thirty five to forty minutes to complete. Because of scheduled eye surgery on December 18, I would not be permitted to run during the recovery.

The surgeon knew that asking me to be inactive for over a month was going to be a challenge. Yet, I was a good patient, and followed his guidelines.

Turns out, the waiting was worth it.

On January 24, my first post-surgery run was in Waialua, a quiet town on the Hawaiian island of Oahu.

In Waialua, the temperature was in the low 70s when I started my run. I was running in shorts and a t-shirt.

Back on December 16, it was a clear, cold 33 degrees with a coating of frost that morning in Richmond. Running shorts and a t-shirt weren’t going to work on that pre-winter jog.

From our trip to Hawaii, I returned to work at our church, Trinity United Methodist on Monday, February 5. I think I’m still catching up. Time is not cutting me any breaks. We are already in the season of Lent, and March is closing fast on February.

American singer/songwriter, John Prine, passed away on April 7, 2020. Before his death, Mr. Prine recorded one last song titled “I Remember Everything.” This song is vintage Prine. It is a pretty tune with heartfelt lyrics.

The opening line—“I’ve been down this road before,” will resonate with us. As we all have been down familiar roads before.

I feel that way about Lent. I have been down this Lent road before. And to be perfectly honest with you, I’m not much of a Lenter. Truth be told, some days, I wonder if I’m much of a Christian. I might more closely align with the denier Peter, or the doubter, Thomas.

I see restless, judgmental, harmful tendencies in our world today. These tendencies are similar to what hounded Jesus during his last days on earth. For the life of me, I struggle everyday to understand— why are we so divided and unwilling to find ways to work together?

Despite our divisions, churches still attempt to reach people. On Ash Wednesday, our church offered drive thru ashes, kept the chapel open all day for anyone who wanted or needed a few minutes of solitude, and we finished the day with an Ash Wednesday service.

The internal voice in my old sack of bones often whispers to me, “Bill, you need to go for a run.” When I hear that voice, I work to carve out time for a run.

So on the morning of Ash Wednesday, I went for a run. I chose my Wood and Bryn Mawr route. These roads have steep hills.

I timed my beginning in hopes that I might enter the front drive of our church in time to receive the cross symbol of ashes on my forehead.

My timing was good. As I turned left off Stuart Hall Road onto the front drive of our church, Pastors Brian and Judy, were coming down the steps of the Welcome Center.

In the cold, bright sunlight, Pastor Brian from the container of ashes etched the cross on my forehead. He said these words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

With some acknowledgement of thanks from me, I regained my running stride and headed toward Rock Creek Road.

I really don’t remember participating in Lent activities when I was growing up. Easter yes, but Lent no.

Maybe that’s why Lent and I struggle. But, it is more likely that I struggle with Lent because I don’t understand how an innocent man could be crucified while leaders looked the other way.

Sadly, we have been down the looking the other way road before.

The Cross and The Lynching Tree by James H. Cone captures this struggle from a theological and human perspective. I wonder what might happen if The Cross and The Lynching Tree were required reading for every human being? Would you, me, we, us could become less divided, less judgmental, and kinder from reading this book?

Over the last couple of days, perhaps you read about the passing of former college basketball coach, Lefty Driesell. Even with his accomplishments, Coach Driesell encountered some difficult and disappointing human moments during his career.

In a 2017 interview with Sports Illustrated, one of Driesell’s standout players at the University of Maryland, Tom McMillen, said this about his former coach: “He was just an incredible force. He was like a dog that grabs your pant leg and won’t let go. He’s just unyielding.”

On the morning of Saturday, February 17, I arrived at Trinity to open the building for Upward basketball and cheerleading. While opening up, I received a text from two neighbors who walk our grounds early in the morning. The message was to alert me about an unknown car parked in our back parking lot.

I completed my opening chores, and then I walked out to check on the vehicle. I took an indirect route for my reconnaissance patrol. What I discovered was a woman wrapped up in a comforter on the backseat asleep.

While I couldn’t be certain, I’m almost sure this is a homeless person who sometimes parks on our grounds for quietness and safety.

Thankfully, I thought to myself being homeless is one road I haven’t been down, and yet, I asked myself where am I in working to solve the homeless issues in America?

What might happen to our country if our time, energy, and effort didn’t go into our restless, judgmental, and harmful division?

What might happen if you, me, we, us directed our energy into solving problems with the same tenacity as the unyielding dog who grabs a hold of a pant leg?

Wasn’t Jesus like that unyielding dog in his pursuit of teaching us about the requirement of love in all types of environments and human circumstances?

At this stage of my life shouldn’t I be tired of traveling down the same dead end road that is littered with unsolved problems?

Maybe it is time for you, me, we, us to ponder a lesson from the Ted Lasso playbook related to a game of darts.

What might Lent become if you, me, we, us were more curious rather than more judgmental?

What might happen to poverty, food deprivation, homelessness, addiction, racial injustice, education, mental health, physical health, and unemployment if you, me, we, us stopped underestimating our human capacity and became more curious about solving our challenges?

For me, the parable of the good Samaritan is the best road story in the Bible.

I’m curious about the Samaritan—what nudged him to stop?

Where did he learn about compassion?

Who taught him about sacrifice?

Why was he curious?

What kept him from being judgmental?

In his own humble manner, wasn’t the Samaritan unyielding like the dog who will not let go of the pant leg?

Maybe on one of those days when my internal voice suggests that I go for a run, I will finally confront myself to reason out a commitment to be more curious, more devoted, less judgmental, and unyielding.

Maybe as I travel the roads I’ve been down before I can become more like the good Samaritan.

Isn’t that exactly what Jesus needs you, me, we, us to do?