Nazarene Theological Seminary

Now that we are officially a month into the semester and classes are in full swing, I feel comfortable enough to say to you all in this venue that I officially feel overwhelmed.  Between preparing for my Galatians class in the Greek, trying to keep up with Dr. Spaulding's jokes, Supervised Ministry Experience (SME), and work, I've found little room in my schedule to do much else but study.  To add insult to injury, it was at about 9:05pm last night in the middle of my Marriage and Family Counseling class that I realized that this was certainly a bad time to give up coffee for Lent.  If only I had thought this through a week ago.   

It's not that I am utterly dependent on coffee, at least I hope not.  Last week I did notice a slight headache on Thursday morning (day 2 of this java-less journey), but nothing since that has made me feel like I absolutely need a hot drink to make it through the day.  I mean, coffee certainly can help me open my eyes a little bit wider in the early morning and at the end of a long day, but it is also simply something that gives me a little comfort whether I'm having breakfast or substitute teaching (a little sip here and there goes a long way in convincing students that you are in control).  Coffee has become a normal routine in my day, which is probably why it seemed appropriate to give it up at the time. 

But I digress, because what I really wanted to talk about is this journey of Lent.  This last week I ordered Alexander Schmemann's Great Lent thanks to an Amazon.com recommendation that I couldn't resist.  And as if I didn't have enough on my plate to be reading right now, I immediately started reading it as soon as it arrived.  Thankfully, the book has not disappointed and Amazon.com has once again succeeded in knowing me better than I know myself.

As I read another chapter this morning wishing I had a cup of joe in my hand, I was reminded once again that fasting from something is only an exercise of will power (which will ultimately fail) unless it is tied to something else.  In this case, fasting from coffee will be nothing more than me agonizing over my desire for a little caffeine fix unless I recall that I am doing this as a practice of Lent – a liturgical season of the church meant to prepare us for Easter “as the end of the 'old' in us, as our entrance into the 'new.'”  Combined with prayer, fasting is continually reminding me that I am dependent on something outside of me for life and am incapable of sustaining myself.  Thankfully, that something – or rather someone – whom I am dependent upon is God.  And so while I look forward to the breaking of this ascetical fast and enjoying a nice hot cup of the Roasterie's Guatemalan Organic Coffee, I am looking forward with even greater anticipation to the joy that is made known on Easter Sunday as the church joins together in saying, “Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed!”