Archive for the ‘Lent’ Category

Day 7: The Ends of the Earth Shall Remember

February 24, 2012

Image: The Ends of the Earth Shall Remember (click image to enlarge)

All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord.
—Psalm 22.27

From a lectionary reading for Lent 2: Psalm 22.23-31

Reflection for Wednesday, February 29 (Day 7 of Lent)

I once met a woman who works with a group designed for people whose memories have become damaged. Living with Alzheimer’s disease, traumatic brain injuries, or other conditions that have eroded their ability to remember, these people gather together to help one another navigate a once-familiar path now made strange and often fearsome by the holes and fissures that have opened up. At the heart of this woman’s work lay the questions: Who are we if we cannot remember? How do we help others know who they are by holding their memories for them, and finding ways to help them know their lives?

I was fascinated to hear this woman talk about the group and the tools she invites them to use in their work together. Art, photographs, conversation, writing: each word, each image becomes a tangible piece to hold onto. These pieces cannot fill all the holes, cannot mend all the gaps in the individual memories of the group members. But together, the work of the group helps make a larger kind of memory possible—a memory that does not reside entirely in the individual but can be glimpsed in the pieces created and shared with the group members, with friends, with family, with those who help them know who they are.

Who are we if we cannot remember? As the people of God, what have we forgotten, and what knowing—of God, of ourselves—have we lost as a result? Psalm 22 tells us that we are held within a larger memory that extends across time and encompasses all creation. All the ends of the earth shall remember, the psalmist writes, and turn to the Lord. In this time, how will we tell the story of who and whose we are? In words, in images, how will we reclaim the pieces of memory and hold them for and with one another, and so become whole?

This reflection is part of the series “Teach Me Your Paths: A Pilgrimage into Lent.” If you’re new to the series, welcome! You can visit the first post, Teach Me Your Paths: Entering Lent, to pick it up from the beginning.

[To use the image “The Ends of the Earth Shall Remember,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Day 6: I Will Bless Her

February 24, 2012

Image: I Will Bless Her © Jan Richardson (click image to enlarge)

I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations.
—Genesis 17.16

From a lectionary reading for Lent 2: Genesis 17.1-7, 15-16

Reflection for Tuesday, February 28 (Day 6 of Lent)

In my studio, a piece of work may lie dormant for a long, long time. A scrap of an idea, a shred of painted paper, a pattern: it shimmers for a moment, then says wait. Months pass, years, and suddenly it comes to life. It lands next to another scrap that causes me to see it differently, or a shift in my style enables me to know what to do with it now, or the sheer passage of time does its work, and now the piece is ready—or, finally, I am.

But to experience this awakening in one’s body, to know old dreams blazing anew in one’s own flesh, to feel the sensation of life making itself known within the wilderness of a womb that has ached for birthing for years, for decades, long beyond all reason… Who can fathom how life takes hold in the places we had stopped looking?

Hildegard of Bingen, that great medieval mystic, had a word for it: veriditas. The greening power of God.

This reflection is part of the series “Teach Me Your Paths: A Pilgrimage into Lent.” If you’re new to the series, welcome! You can visit the first post, Teach Me Your Paths: Entering Lent, to pick it up from the beginning.

[To use the image “I Will Bless Her,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Day 5: I Will Establish My Covenant

February 23, 2012

Image: I Will Establish My Covenant © Jan Richardson

I will establish my covenant between me and you.
—Genesis 17.7

From a lectionary reading for Lent 2: Genesis 17.1-7, 15-16

Reflection for Monday, February 27 (Day 5 of Lent)

That word, again: covenant. We encountered it just a few days ago in the story of Noah, and now it returns, a persistent reminder of how God seeks us, takes our side, desires to become bound to us. This time the covenant brings new names: Abraham. Sarah. The names that Abram and Sarai had borne for decades fall away, their new names a sign of the altering and transforming and new life that God brings, far beyond the time we might have looked for it.

To be God to you, the Holy One says, and to your offspring after you. God will keep making the covenant, the promise, the berit of the Hebrew scriptures, where the word occurs again and again throughout the story of the people of Israel. Will keep being God to us, keep binding Godself to us, renewing us and revealing our true names.

This reflection is part of the series “Teach Me Your Paths: A Pilgrimage into Lent.” If you’re new to the series, welcome! You can visit the first post, Teach Me Your Paths: Entering Lent, to pick it up from the beginning.

[To use the image “I Will Establish My Covenant,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

First Sunday of Lent: And the Angels Waited

February 23, 2012

Image: And the Angels Waited © Jan Richardson

And the angels waited on him.
—Mark 1.13

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Mark 1.9-15

Reflection for the First Sunday in Lent (February 26)

How will we see the angels if we don’t go into the wilderness? How will we recognize the help that God sends if we don’t seek out the places beyond what is comfortable to us, if we don’t press into terrain that challenges our habitual perspective? How will we find the delights that God provides even—and especially—in the desert places?

Blessing that Meets You
in the Wilderness

After the
desert stillness.

After the
wrestling.

After the
hours
and days
and weeks
of emptying.

After the
hungering
and the
thirsting.

After the
opening
and seeing
and knowing.

Let this blessing be
the first sweetness
that touches
your lips,

the bread
that falls into
your arms,

the cup
that welcoming hands
press into
yours.

Let this blessing be
the road that
returns you.

Let it be
the strength to carry
the wilderness
home.

—Jan Richardson

2016 update: “Blessing That Meets You in the Wilderness” appears in my new book Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons. You can find the book here.

This reflection is part of the series “Teach Me Your Paths: A Pilgrimage into Lent.” If you’re new to the series, visit the first post, Teach Me Your Paths: Entering Lent, to pick it up from the beginning.

P.S. For reflections on this story from previous years, click the images or titles below:

Lent 1: A Blessing for the Wilderness
(Includes a blessing that you’re welcome to use in worship.)

Lent 1: Into the Wilderness

Lent 1: A River Runs through Him

Lent 1: Discernment and Dessert in the Desert
(Includes “Desert Prayer,” which you’re welcome to use in worship.)

[To use the image “And the Angels Waited,”  please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

 

Day 4: With the Wild Beasts

February 22, 2012

Image: With the Wild Beasts © Jan Richardson
(click image to enlarge)

And he was with the wild beasts.
—Mark 1.13

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Mark 1.9-15

Reflection for Saturday, February 25 (Day 4 of Lent)

I do not know why I should have it in my mind that these wild beasts come to comfort Jesus rather than eat him. But there it is. Perhaps it’s that word with. The wild beasts come not to stalk or attack or devour—as can happen in wild places, so let us not wax too romantic about the outdoors. They seem to come, rather, to be present to Jesus. To serve as companions. To be witnesses to his wrestling and provide solace in this space apart.

In this threshold place between what Jesus has known and the life that lies ahead of him, the creatures come as a reminder that God will not be domesticated, will not be tamed, is friendly with what lives by instinct and intuition. Within the God who fashioned and ordered the universe, something yet remains wild.

[To use the image “With the Wild Beasts,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Day 3: Into the Wilderness

February 22, 2012

Image: Tempted © Jan Richardson
(click image to enlarge)

He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan.
—Mark 1.13

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Mark 1.9-15

Reflection for Friday, February 24 (Day 3 of Lent)

Still dripping with the waters of the Jordan, Jesus is poised on the brink of his public ministry. Yet instead of turning toward the people whom, in the days to come, he will heal and teach and challenge and love, he first turns his face toward the wilderness. Toward solitude. Toward a place where, shed of everything that is familiar to him, he will wrestle and reckon with who he is and what he has come to do.

Satan comes to that forty-day place. Mark’s version of the story omits the details of the temptations that Jesus’ visitor offers. We could turn to Matthew and Luke to remind us of the specific ways that Satan seeks to entice Jesus. In their Gospels we could see how Jesus, shimmering with the clarity the wilderness can provide, turns away from each temptation Satan brings, the temptations he has designed to target what he thinks are Jesus’ soft spots. Or we could instead enter into the wilderness with Jesus, travel into that landscape to which Lent draws us, and let Mark’s omission of the details serve as an invitation to us.

In the wilderness of Lent, what temptations might a visitor offer to you? What enticements would come to you, tailoring themselves—as temptations always do—especially to fit you, molding themselves with precision to the places where you are most vulnerable? What comes to distract you from your path? How might you enter this wilderness season as a space to see more clearly: who you are, what you have come to do?

[To use the image “Tempted,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Day 2: Up From the Water

February 16, 2012

Image: Up From the Water © Jan Richardson
(click image to enlarge)

And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.
—Mark 1.10

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Mark 1.9-15

Reflection for Thursday, February 23 (Day 2 of Lent)

What does a rite of passage look like from the inside?

When I was married nearly two years ago, one of the things I wanted most on my wedding day was to be present to it. Walking down the aisle, I paid attention to taking in the beloved faces of those who had gathered from across decades to surround and to bless. I found myself suddenly overwhelmed, surprised by the tears that momentarily overtook me.

Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, Mark writes in his story of Jesus’ baptism. And I wonder how that was for Jesus: to be inside that moment, to inhabit that space in which the waters break over him as he hears a voice name him Son and Beloved; to be in that place of passage as he moves into the life for which he has been preparing.

[To use the image “Up From the Water,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Day 1/Ash Wednesday: Rend Your Heart

February 15, 2012

Image: Rend Your Heart © Jan Richardson (click image to enlarge)

Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
rend your hearts and not your clothing.

—Joel 2.12-13

From a lectionary reading for Ash Wednesday: Joel 2.1-2, 12-17

Reflection for Wednesday, February 22 (Day 1 of Lent)

Rend Your Heart
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday

To receive this blessing,
all you have to do
is let your heart break.
Let it crack open.
Let it fall apart
so that you can see
its secret chambers,
the hidden spaces
where you have hesitated
to go.

Your entire life
is here, inscribed whole
upon your heart’s walls:
every path taken
or left behind,
every face you turned toward
or turned away,
every word spoken in love
or in rage,
every line of your life
you would prefer to leave
in shadow,
every story that shimmers
with treasures known
and those you have yet
to find.

It could take you days
to wander these rooms.
Forty, at least.

And so let this be
a season for wandering,
for trusting the breaking,
for tracing the rupture
that will return you

to the One who waits,
who watches,
who works within
the rending
to make your heart
whole.

—Jan Richardson

2016 update: “Rend Your Heart” appears in my new book Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons. You can find the book here.

P.S. For previous reflections on Ash Wednesday, please see The Memory of Ashes, Upon the Ashes, The Artful Ashes, and Ash Wednesday, Almost.

[To use the image “Rend Your Heart,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

I Will Remember: On the Eve of Ash Wednesday

February 14, 2012

Image: I Will Remember My Covenant © Jan Richardson

I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.
—Genesis 9.15

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Genesis 9.8-17

Reflection for Tuesday, February 21

On a day years ago when I was dealing with a vexatious situation—a tussle with an institutional system, as I recall—I spent some time talking with Gary. Gifted at thinking through things with me, Gary mostly listened and helped me name some possible options for moving forward. Then, as we were finishing the conversation, Gary said to me, “The thing to remember here, Jan, is that I am on your side.”

I am on your side.

For those who don’t know me, let me say this: I was past forty when I married, nearly two years ago now. A fervently focused person from the time I was a child, I have been a Woman with a Plan—even when the plan was changing—nearly all my adult life. I enjoyed being in relationship but prized my independence and understood the importance of finding and making a life that I loved, one in which my sense of wholeness didn’t rely on being involved with someone else.

I will tell you that after Gary showed up, I realized I had vastly underestimated the kind of claim that a relationship could have on me. More than a decade later, I continue to marvel at the strangely wondrous state of being so met by another person. In a relationship that’s grounded in that mutual sense of being met, I have come to see how it’s possible to become intertwined and tangled up with another in ways that do not confine and limit us but instead help us to know ourselves more clearly, open doorways to paths we had not imagined on our own, and draw us deeper into who God has created us to be.

I am on your side.

The narrative of Noah is, among other things, an amazing story of the God who chooses to become tangled up with us, who takes our side, who risks casting God’s lot with us. It is a Big Deal on God’s part to make such a covenant. Yet as I spiral back around this story, it occurs to me that for Noah to accept this is no small thing.

To be sure, God is insistent about binding Godself to Noah, along with his family and his descendants. In this passage, God speaks the word covenant seven times, the repetition becoming something of a litany as God tells Noah—again and again—what God is doing. I am establishing my covenant with you, God says. This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you, God emphasizes. I will remember my covenant, God insists. And so forth, until God decides that it has sunk in, that Noah gets it.

But a covenant does not run in one direction, and Noah must choose whether he in fact wants to be a party to this covenant, to receive this marvel that is wondrous but weighty. He must decide whether he wants to be so claimed by God, and whether the God who wants to take his side is offering a relationship that will be a cage that makes him smaller or a home that frees him to be who he is.

Tomorrow, as we cross the threshold into Lent, we will hear the words of the prophet Joel as he tells us, “Rend your hearts.” We, like Noah, can choose to do this, to turn toward God, because God has already opened God’s own heart to us. God keeps letting God’s heart break for us. Keeps choosing to become bound to us. To become entangled with us. To covenant with us and with creation and with those who will come after us.  Keeps taking our side even when we have wandered into the far country, bent on a path of our own stubborn choosing. In this season God asks us, invites us, dares us to let ourselves be claimed.

Here on the threshold of Lent, who or what have you allowed to claim you? Do you find yourself becoming more free, more yourself in this claiming, or more confined? Where do you find the presence of God in the connections that hold you? Are there any entanglements that God might be inviting you to look at in this coming season? What do you resist inviting God to claim in your life?

As we enter into Lent, may this season draw you closer to the One who persists in seeking us out. Blessings.

[To use the image “I Will Remember My Covenant,” please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Teach Me Your Paths: Entering Lent

February 13, 2012

Teach Me Your Paths © Jan L. Richardson

Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.
—Psalm 25.4

From a lectionary reading for Lent 1: Psalm 25.1-10

Advent and Christmas are not so very far behind us, and already the season of Lent draws close. The liturgical year can feel quite compressed right about now, but perhaps this is just as it should be. The season of Lent invites us, after all, to live into the Incarnation—to wrestle with what it means that God became flesh; to discern how God calls us to let the Word become flesh in us; to let go of what hinders us from recognizing Christ and finding and following the pathways he opens to us.

For me, these brief weeks between Christmas and the beginning of Lent this year have been a time of living into the paths that began to open up in my studio during the season of Advent. Those who have been journeying with me for some time know that last year was a relatively fallow one, art-wise. It was one of those seasons that happens periodically in the rhythm of the creative life—a time when not much seemed to be happening at the drafting table (and what was happening was vexing), but deep beneath the surface, preparation was taking place. Advent became a time for beginning to come to the surface, for experimenting and moving in some new directions, for finding and following the lines that presented themselves.

As I continued to follow those lines into this new year, new images came, arriving in forms I could not have predicted. And here at the outset of Lent, the studio teaches me anew the invitation that lies at the heart of the coming season: to pay attention, to keep practicing, to allow God to wear away what hinders us, to be open to the surprising turns and openings that draw us deeper into the path of God.

During this Lenten season, I’ll be sharing the images that have emerged in recent weeks. I’ll post an image daily throughout Lent. Brief reflections will accompany the images for the forty days of Lent, and I’ll also post images and my usual reflections for the Sundays of Lent (which aren’t counted in the forty days). I offer these not just to give you a glimpse of what’s been taking shape in my studio but as an invitation to you to engage your own path and to look for the openings that are waiting for you in the coming weeks. I’ll be posting each reflection about a week in advance of the day it’s intended for.

If you’d like to receive these reflections during Lent (and beyond), there’s a subscription signup form near the top of the sidebar; just submit your email address, then respond to the confirmation email that you’ll automatically receive, and each new reflection will be delivered to your inbox. Or, as usual, you can always find the reflections here at The Painted Prayerbook.

If you enjoy what you find here, there are several ways you can help sustain this ministry and enable it to continue. Doing any of these during this Lenten season would be a tremendous form of support:

  • Share a link to a reflection via Facebook, Twitter, email, blogs, or through other media. You’ll find share buttons at the end of each post, or you can simply copy the link for the reflection and share it.
  • Make use of the Jan Richardson Images website, or give a subscription as a gift to your pastor or church. Designed to make my artwork easily accessible for use in worship and related settings, the images site includes all the images I’ve created for my blogs. You can download individual images, or, with an annual subscription, you can have access to all the images for a year’s time. Please know I’m always happy to work with churches that may not be able to afford the full subscription price; just drop me a line through the images site. And thanks for including a credit line when you use an image; this is always a crucial way to support artists.
  • Become a patron of The Painted Prayerbook. Although I’m an ordained minister in the United Methodist Church, my ministry involves raising my entire income myself. Purchasing books and art prints (available at janrichardson.com) and using the Jan Richardson Images site are great ways to be a patron of my work and sustain my ministry; you can also become a patron by making a contribution. For more info, visit the Patron page on my main website.

Thank you so much for sharing in my ministry. Your presence here is an especially welcome form of support, as are your prayers! Know that I hold you in prayer and I look forward to sharing the season of Lent with you.  May God draw you down a wondrous path in the weeks ahead.

[To use the “Teach Me Your Paths” image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]