On Facebook this week, I ran across a blog post that expressed my own misgivings and acknowledged what is, in the author’s words, the “wide continuum of mothering.”

Now with an issue so unwieldy and all-encompassing as poverty, the challenge, as the planning committee saw it, was two-fold: 1) focus the conversation in a specific direction, and 2) attempt to move beyond a simple presentation of harsh realities, which can be debilitating, and somehow move to hope and action. Since action was the end goal, the committee chose to focus our conversation on local poverty here in Macon.

Over these past three weeks we’ve been blessed by the presentations of some incredible guest speakers who are involved with issues of local poverty. Last Sunday, Rev. William Rand, pastor of Southside Community Church here in Macon, and Rev. Stacey Harwell, associate minister at nearby Centenary United Methodist Church, spoke to us about their respective churches’ engagement with poverty in their neighborhoods.

By now the Easter eggs have surely all been found and the bunny cake eaten, but the church’s Easter celebration is just getting started.

The season of Lent, as you know, is a forty-day long fast that stretches over six Sundays: a time of penitence, confession and renewal. But it’s all in preparation for the season of Easter, which has traditionally been thought of as a fifty-day long “feast,” lasting until Pentecost Sunday. And this is an important theological statement: the “feast” of Easter is longer than the “fast” of Lent. Yes, Lenten discipline is long, but in our church year together, the celebration of God’s love is longer.

This is where we started seeing them about this time last year. On either side of the street, right by the road, were the most incredible wildflowers.

Now as far as flowers are concerned, their color, shape and size were not remarkable: a ring of pale yellow petals about the size of a Girl Scout cookie. But this was not what made these little wonders worth sharing. Audrey started noticing after a few days walking past them at dawn and dusk that they had peculiar habits. During the day you would not even know these flowers were there—they looked like wilted, dried up weeds.

But at night they came alive.

And as is my general practice when experiencing things for the first time, I did a bit of research (on Wikipedia) and was surprised to learn the cherry blossom is celebrated in many countries around the globe: Australia, Brazil, Canada, Germany and Turkey being among them. But Japan has perhaps the longest and most symbolically rich history of cherry blossom adoration.

At about the two and a half week mark we were feeling pretty good. Our closets were not bursting at the seams quite as much as usual, and we could actually see the surface of our dining room table. Those two things alone were making this Lenten experiment a success.

Audrey consented to give away a few nice dresses and even let go of some kitchen utensils we had been meaning to use. I finally sold an old computer that had been collecting dust and managed to throw away a pair of old tennis shoes (for some reason I have a hard time throwing away even the most worn-out pairs of shoes; I’ll let you psychoanalyze).

But after another week or so, the “discipline” part of our Lenten discipline started setting in. Our take on the Lenten fast was revealing more than closet space. It was exposing just how much “stuff” we surround ourselves with and how attached we become to it. More importantly, we began to learn you can only truly hold fast to so many things.

As he was telling me about the building and the various renovations it has undergone, and described the different features, I noticed that the acoustics of this space were every bit as astounding as the architecture. I mentioned this to him and he agreed that it was a spectacular space for singing (to which I’m sure many of you can attest), but lamented that it is at times a difficult space for speaking. You see, this “bounce” effect produced by all the hard surfaces, which makes you feel like you’re surrounded by a flood of sound, is perfect for singing, but can be a nuisance for trying to hear speech.

Father McDonald said they have painstakingly worked with sound technicians to address this issue, but it’s still far from perfect. And then he said that while the sound is certainly much better than it was, “You still have to learn how to listen in here.”

And I thought, what a beautiful image for our Lenten journey: learning to listen.

Today, Lent has taken on a range of meanings and observances, ranging from a traditional vegetarian fast (no meats, fats, oils and dairy) to simply “giving something up;” chocolate, TV or some other indulgence. I’ve even heard of people giving up coffee, which seems particularly severe. Others have chosen to instead “take something on” for Lent; to learn a new skill or commit oneself to exercise or reading.

But while Lent is a very old tradition, in many ways it’s new to Baptists, and it’s a fair question to ask, “Why should we observant Lent?”  Why do we need to contemplate our mortality—hasn’t Christ won the battle? Why all the doom and gloom? Are we not people of the Resurrection?