Scott laughed at me last night when, after one of the kids mentioned finishing off a chocolate bunny, I interrupted in desperation, “What! There’s still some chocolate in the house!?”
I guess after the long desert of Lent – if we spoiled Canadians call it a desert – something inside my blood snaps at the first taste of candy. I find myself flicking my fingers through the straw at the bottom of some child’s basket carelessly left unattended on the coffee table.
“Hmm,” I think to myself, “I don’t think Thomas even likes that kind of chocolate. He won’t notice … I mean, mind.”
Of course the long garden of Easter is meant to be a time of celebration, and every celebration includes food, and I love food! Who doesn’t love food? God intended that we love food, and I don’t want to disappoint God.
Every Easter I am reminded of my childhood, celebrating at the house of a favourite aunt and uncle. They gave themselves entirely to making Easter a day of family, joy, food, and fun. We had board game competitions, a huge egg hunt, prizes, and my aunt always filled the table with an amazing lunch. Everyone was welcome, and it was truly the tradition I looked forward to all year long.
But it may have been Good Friday this year when I found myself wondering at the upcoming Easter day celebrations we were hosting. I thought how wonderful the food and fun would be, how the kids would have so much fun. My thoughts about the ending of Lent led me to think more about the time in Lent, our 40 days being a time to join Christ in the desert. How well had I done? Did I ever truly have moments of unity with him in suffering or struggle? Did I resent small struggles, or did I succeed in offering them to God as a sacrifice? It occurred to me that I had thought a lot about joining Christ in the desert, but hadn’t given much thought to what it was leading to.
In my Bible, the 40 days of temptation end with “angels came and ministered to him.” And then a new subtitle: Christ Begins His Ministry in Galilee. He begins the work, that “‘the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death, light has dawned.’ From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” He fasted to prepare himself for the great work he came to do.
So, I suppose my thoughts were focused on the “now what?” aspect of Lent ending, that the feasting of Easter is a type of ministering by the angels. We have overcome the temptations of the flesh with Our Lord, and now we rejoice. And then … we begin our ministry, also in imitation of him.
I hadn’t thought of it that way before. If I am to imitate Christ in the desert, I have to know why I’m there, what I’m preparing for. Christ fasted in preparation, to bring the kingdom of God to the peoples. Our time of fasting is meant to prepare us for something more than one day of feasting. The apostles are charged, after seeing the resurrected Lord, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.”
The desert ends in a garden, but it leads to a road. We are commissioned. I think my point is that our Lent is meant to lead us to more than sneaking chocolate from our kids’ unguarded baskets, with a sigh of relief that the fast is over. Lent is meant to steel us for our job as Christians: being a witness and evangelist to a world in such a desert of hunger and thirst for truth.
That means something a little different in practicality for each of us, but none are excluded from the command. Christ commands us to bring truth, to change the world. The disciples only spent so long hidden in “the house.” Christ breathed upon them. They received the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. And then they got to work.
