This is going to be about Lent and the whole deal where we participate in spiritual practices as part of "the process of being formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (M. Robert Mulholland).
Just wanted to say so, because it's going to take me a minute to get to that, and it's only fair that you know ahead of time so you can decide if you'd rather scroll along to something shorter, or just something else.
Which, honestly, is fine. I do it too.
This is just a slice of what I've been mulling over in the spaces made available as I've given up productivity for Lent.
I'll begin with a story of getting to the bank.
And as soon as I write that first sentence, I realize this makes me something of a target for all those comments about seniors not keeping up with technology, specifically about all the 'on line' banking options now available to the unsuspecting masses. So, yes. I realize that half of what the story I'm about to tell wouldn't be at all necessary -- if it was just about banking.
But it's not, so I'll continue.
As part of the bigger picture of our family banking, I have two separate accounts at two entirely different institutions. This isn't the place to talk about diversifying portfolios or spousal access or any of that complicated stuff. Because this is really just about me needing to keep things simple and clearly organized in a way that doesn't mess with my numbers/money-phobic brain.
When we lived in Waterloo and I was travelling a certain route daily, back and forth to the church, both Banks had a branch "on the way." Easy peasy. Didn't even have to change lanes or navigate a roundabout to get in to the parking lot and/or the drive through. Just zip zip, in and out. So convenient.
Now that we live where we do, not so much. Many other amenities and services are closer than they used to be, including doctor's, dentist, optometrist, Dollorama, various and sundry dining establishments, the place you can vacuum out your vehicle, groceries, thrift stores and, yes, even the church. A lot of it is within easy walking distance, actually. Or at the very least, on the way to other things with easy access driving.
But one of the two Banks does not have a branch anywhere near us or on the way to anything. It's not their fault, and it's not a deal breaker for me, not at all. In fact, the way I do my banking, I usually don't have to visit that particular account in person much if at all, as there are direct deposits going on there. (Hey, maybe I do know how to do some on line stuff.....Oh wait. Ken set that all up for me, so never mind.)
On one particular day, when Ken and I were coming in off the 401 after being out of town, I realized that I needed to deposit a cheque (yes a paper one) into the now awkward account. We tried first to find a branch using the maps ap, just so we could do this errand smoothly between the 401 and home. But it sent us to 'withdrawal only' ATMs, and we soon decided it was going to be just as easy to go out of the way to stop in at my 'regular' branch and get this done. So not convenient, and it actually ended up adding a full 30 minutes to our already 2 hour drive.
But oh well, it's not like I have to do it often. Which is good. Because if I had to, I wouldn't. I might even have to change Banks if it got to be too inconvenient.
Here's where I switch into the Lent stuff. Because my mind works like that, and this is what I was thinking as we were in and out of the not-helpful-for-this-task ATMs.
We're like that, us humans. We seek convenience. Especially in this era of on line, drive-through, fast food, instant gratification, time-is-precious, pace of life. This is why it is recommended that we find a gym that's either close to home or at least on the way to work. Or, if you're on a diet that requires any degree of chopping or other prep, you find ways to do it in bigger batches so things are easily ready when it's meal time. We are more inclined to stick with the exercise, or stick with the diet if it's convenient.
And I think this might be important for those of us who sometimes struggle with having consistent times of meditation and reflection. Who very much want to make the space for times to be spiritually quiet, to contemplate holy things, to listen for the guidance and correction and affirmations we so desperately need, but who find it hard to make it a matter of disciplined practice.
What if we started with convenience?
Now, if you're like me you might have a slight push back to this idea at first. Some of us were raised in a more rigid spiritual environment where they talked about things like prolonged and painful positions of prayer. There was even a knee thing called 'prayer callouses' which, apparently, were supposed to be a sign of spiritual fervor. Not making that up. You also got extra points if you woke up in the wee hours of the morning to do your 'quiet time.' And if you were in any other way somewhat uncomfortable or inconvenienced then, wow, that was considered to be a sign of true devotion. Convenient? How heathen!
Right here, things could go a little sideways, if we're not careful.
In considering a disciplined convenience, we cannot disrespect the ways that devotion does indeed often require sacrifice. The Desert Mothers and Fathers, who excelled in inconvenient and uncomfortable practices, were themselves reacting against the indulgent prosperity into which the Church at the time had plunged. There are times when fasting or solitude or pressing into something less than comforting does produce the character and growth we are after. Our Christian faith is founded on the sacrifice of Christ on our behalf, who spared nothing to bring us redemption. And we are called to pick up our cross and follow Him. So there's that.
But if, in normal times, ordinary life, in a rubber-meets-the-road reality, a simpler consistency is what's needed, why not see if we can make spiritual reflection happen more consistently just by making it more convenient?
What if it happened at a time of day when we are most relaxed and open? What if our season of life dictated how often we did this, instead of a forced expectation? What if it could be in a physical space where we are cozy and receptive? What if it could be associated with all the positivity we can muster around us, including maybe even possibly our favourite something in a mug? What if our Bibles and journals were there, easily accessible? What if candles were involved?
Or, boldly enough, what if we weren't even inside? What if no journaling was expected, but instead the worship-filled poetry of a forest or a hiking trail or a birdfeeder in the backyard was allowed to write its wisdom on our hearts?
But now I'm going beyond convenience into the next level of self-awareness, and how that so truly connects with spiritual formation. And I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Because where this could go is to a point where we look forward to our practices the same way we look forward to a favourite dessert, or a delightful hobby, or a well-deserved treat of any sort.
Possible? I say it is. But I would also say it probably starts more simply with things just being easy to access.
And it makes me curious.
If we could build these practices around the idea that convenience in itself can foster discipline, I wonder what might happen? Not just during Lent. But in the longer story of our ordinary living.
It wasn't particularly productive that day, when we were stopping in at the ATMs and getting ourselves all turned around just to try to deposit a cheque. But that's okay. Because I've given up productivity for Lent. And even though it makes me squirm a little, I'm liking where it's taking me.
