LENT -- I WASN'T SURE ABOUT IT

   A few years ago at lunchtime on a Wednesday, I left the carpet mill I worked for and drove down a hill into downtown Aberdeen, NC. Walking into Page Memorial United Methodist Church’s fellowship building, I laid down $4 for a Wednesdays-during-Lent lunch, served with dessert and an inspirational message by a guest speaker.   

Dot, a friend from Aberdeen, was there, and I sat with her and three of her friends. As we ate good home-cooked food, Dot asked me, “What are you giving up for Lent?”

My thoughts went like this: “Uh-oh. We’re into the Lenten season and I haven’t given up one thing. Dot probably expects that I should give up something to attune my mind to the passion and suffering Jesus endured.”

“Lent” observes the 40 days Jesus fasted in the desert and was tempted by Satan before beginning public ministry. Lenten season begins on Ash Wednesday (Feb. 23 in 2023), when some folk get ashes dabbed on their foreheads. Those ashes are often from burned palm fronds waved during the previous year’s Palm Sunday services. Lent continues through Good Friday and Holy Saturday. Begun by the Catholic Church, Lent is now observed by various Christian churches and focuses on Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection. Many believers pray, fast, and give alms more during Lent and often “give up” things — everything from alcohol and smoking to nail-biting and overeating.

“It is a time set aside each year to remember the love of God poured out through Christ Jesus on the cross in his death; and his defeat of death, sin and Satan in Christ’s death and resurrection,” sources say.

“Dot goes to Aberdeen First Baptist,” I thought.  “Why is she concerned about giving something up for Lent? Has she ‘gone Catholic’ or something?
Protestants used to avoid observing Lent because it seemed so Catholic.”

“Uh, I haven’t given up anything, yet,” I said. “I’m thinking about chocolate.” 

I envisioned myself standing at our workplace vending machine, looking at a package of M&Ms and being unable to buy those treats because Dot had shamed me into giving up chocolate during Lent.

“What are some of y’all giving up?” I asked, getting the attention off of me. I remembered Andy Griffith’s keen insight: “Put ’em on the scent of other game.” 

“Soft drinks,” one lady said. 

Some people fast during Lent, giving up meals so their prayers will become more focused. When I hear the word “fasting,” I usually think about a certain mule. I was a grade-school boy in SC when my paternal grandfather owned a not-too-user-friendly mule. I recall one evening when my grandpa opened the creature’s stall door to “put him up” for the night. The beast put his front feet inside his stall and then let go with a powerful kick. I can still see those hind legs moving backward with the kind of snap-motion a batter uses when swinging to hit a baseball over an outfield fence.

“I got to cut down on his corn,” my grandfather said.

I understood that. I’d heard someone describe an energetic child by saying, “He’s feeling his oats.” My grandfather was saying the mule possessed excess energy. Taking away some of the critter’s fuel supply would make him a more docile, cooperative worker. Perhaps fasting can tame or harness the body, so the soul and spirit can be nourished.  

“One thing Americans don’t’ want to give up is their time,” I said. “We’ll give money but we won’t give time. We tend to buy things for our kids rather than spend time with them.” 

“Yeah, it’s hard to get people to volunteer,” one of Dot’s friends said. 

I’d broadened the conversation. No one now seemed to be thinking about stuff I should give up. We finished lunch and waited for the day’s speaker, the Rev. Thomas Simpson of Vass, NC. He brought a good message. I felt thankful he didn’t mention sacrificing something during Lent.  

“Maybe it’s sort of silly,” I thought. “When I miss eating chocolate, will I be reminded that Jesus suffered for me? Is laying down chocolate during Lent some kind of trivial American idea of religious sacrifice?” 

Later, while standing at our office vending machine, I told a coworker about my Lent dilemma. 

“I thought Jesus died so we wouldn’t have to give up stuff,” she said. “I’m really into that ‘grace’ thing.”

Maybe she had a point. But I kept thinking about my grandfather’s mule and wondering if maybe I should give up a little something during Lent.

THE ASBURY REVIVAL of 2023

                   

  Barbara and I drove home recently from Greenville and found more stories about a revival at Asbury University. News about this is all over the internet.

   The 2023 Asbury Revival, which is ongoing,  seems to have started Wednesday (Feb. 8, 2023), when students at Asbury University gathered for their biweekly chapel service in the 1,500-seat Hughes Auditorium in Wilmore, Kentucky, about a half-hour outside of Lexington. 

Asbury University is a private school affiliated with the Wesleyan-Holiness movement. Chapel attendance is mandatory for students on certain weekdays.

“The revival has been compared to similar revivals at Asbury, notably one that occurred in 1970, which had far-reaching consequences in Methodism, US culture, and in the creation of the Jesus Movement,” Wikipedia says. “The new revival is noted for its use of social media, as the participants are mainly members of Generation Z.” 

Generation Z grew up with access to the internet and began being born in the mid-to-late 1990s. The early 2010s marks the ending birth years for Gen Z. 

“Videos of students singing, weeping and praying have been posted on social media, leading to both criticism and praise from onlookers,” writes Bob Smietana of Religious News Service. “News of the revival has also drawn students and other visitors to the campus to take part in the ongoing prayer and worship.”

“We’ve been here in Hughes Auditorium for over a hundred hours — praying, crying, worshipping and uniting — because of Love,” wrote Alexandra Presta, editor of The Asbury Collegian, the school’s student newspaper, days after the revival started.

Michael McKenzie, associate professor of religion and philosophy at Keuka College in upstate New York, said revivals have long been a staple in the Methodist tradition that Asbury belongs to, reports Smietana. Revivals often happened when people felt things had gone wrong and were trying to recapture something that had been lost, he said. Online accounts of the meetings at Asbury, he said, seem to “fit all the historical signposts of previous revivals.”

Like revivals in the past, said McKenzie, the one at Asbury seems to have happened spontaneously. They often bypass leaders and start from the grassroots. That makes them harder to predict or control. They can also be a way of separating spiritual experience from the baggage of organized religion, said McKenzie.

Friday, Feb. 17, 2023: “It’s not winding down,” said Craig Keener, a biblical studies scholar at Asbury Theological Seminary, which is across the street from the university. “People have been praying for it for years,” he said. 

Lee Grady, a Christian journalist, gives the following account of Francis Asbury and also comments on the new revival:

“Asbury University is named after Methodist leader Francis Asbury (1745-1816), who was only 26 when he came [from England] to evangelize the American colonies. He became a leader of the 2nd Great Awakening. It’s estimated that he traveled 270,000 miles on horseback preaching and planting Methodist churches. But circuit-riding wasn’t glamorous; prior to 1847 more than half of Methodist circuit riders died before the age of 30 because of animal attacks, exposure to bad weather and the hardships of travel. Their sacrifice was a seed that died in the ground and produced a massive spiritual harvest. 

“Francis Asbury’s life was marked by white hot spiritual fervor. After being sent to our shores by John Wesley, Asbury wrote: ‘We must reach every section of America, especially the raw frontiers. We must not be afraid of men, devils, wild animals, or disease. Our motto must always be FORWARD!’ Like a modern Joshua, Asbury possessed the land, in spite of his frequent ailments. He never married, perhaps because he knew his sacrificial lifestyle would be difficult for a wife. He was so loved by his Christian brethren that more than 20,000 people followed his coffin when he was buried in Virginia after his death at age 70.

“Asbury University is named after this giant of faith. I think it’s fitting that the revival that erupted last week on the campus also reminds us of Francis Asbury. I’m not listening to religious critics who are skeptical of the music being sung at the revival, or worried about ‘emotionalism,’ or which translation of the Bible is being used, or which denominations are represented in the audience. God please forgive us for the cold, heartless Phariseeism that quenches the Holy Spirit. Francis Asbury would have been thrilled to see young people repenting and worshiping Jesus. May this holy fire spread to the world, and may an army of young Francis Asburys be sent out to claim the nations for Jesus.”