Read Online Wonderstruck by Margaret Feinberg - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Feinberg
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embrace the wonderof rest. Such rhythms of rest will look different for everyone—especially when it comes to the Sabbath. 4
Such shifts begin with an honest personal inventory: In what areas of your life do you need to learn to say no? Where are you prone to overcommit and overextend? What healthy rhythms do you need to establish in your work, relationships, and daily schedule—including the Sabbath—to seize the life God has for you?
One day, some four months later, I woke up feeling something I hadn’t for as long as I could remember: I felt alive—my mind clear, my imagination ignited, my senses attuned to possibilities all around me. Joy percolated in my soul. My internal energy tank splashed over the rim. Life became manageable.
I felt like I had something to give again.
My eyes still adjusting to the morning sun, I felt a smile saunter across the corners of my face. I turned to Leif and whispered in his ear, “I’m not tired anymore.”
.005:
FORGOTTEN LONGINGS
The Wonder of Prayer
S OME A NGLICAN FRIENDS , wearing soot on their foreheads, introduced me to Lent more than a decade ago. Until then, my faith tradition was decidedly non-liturgical, and such attentiveness to the church calendar was new to me. From their descriptions, I imagined Lent as a formidable character who rode into town each year on the eve of Ash Wednesday and stayed until Easter morning. He spent every waking moment petitioning believers to prepare for Holy Week through a blend of prayer, repentance, giving, and self-denial. Though noble, Lent was dismissed with barely a glance. I treated him as if he were a stranger at a crowded dinner party.
But Lent continued pursuing me. A group of friends sang his praises. A pastor shared with enthusiasm the difference Lent made in his own life. Even a few of my favorite bloggers bragged about knowing him. Each time I encountered his name, I feltlike Lent was looking over my shoulder, smiling. I decided I needed to know him better.
Searching online, I studied Lent’s vibrant heritage and background and read about his longtime connections with the Orthodox and Catholic churches as well as newfound friendships among Mennonites and Baptists. I discovered the roots of his name, which in Latin was
quadragesima
, meaning “fortieth” based on the forty days Jesus spent in the desert before his few brief years of earthly ministry. In the Middle Ages, he became known as Lent from a German root meaning “spring,” or “long,” reflective of the spring days growing in length.
The following Ash Wednesday, I knew we shared a common bond—a fiery passion for Jesus. I felt compelled to spend the next forty days studying the crucifixion and resurrection accounts in-depth. By the time Good Friday arrived, I didn’t just take a fancy to Lent but also longed to know him better. My affections blossomed when I learned of Lent’s passion for Christ as well as his ardor for justice as demonstrated in prayer (justice toward God), fasting (justice toward self), and almsgiving (justice toward neighbors). Charmed by his personality, I dove headfirst into the Gospels the following year for another forty days, ruminating on the life of Jesus. Lent transitioned from being a drifter passing through to a dear companion.
Forty days seemed like an expensive tithe of time when we first met, but soon our time together became as fleeting as watching tumbleweed blow across the plain on a windy day. Ifound myself counting down the days until Lent’s homecoming by considering the best way to spend almost seven weeks together. Reflecting on the various facets of Lent’s character, I debated what to give up as an act of self-denial.
My friends placed a haphazard array on the altar of oblation. Some sacrificed technological tools such as Facebook, Twitter, or texting; others gave up temptations like sugar, chocolate, caffeine, soda, or fast food. Still others committed to shrinking their carbon footprint by riding their
Such shifts begin with an honest personal inventory: In what areas of your life do you need to learn to say no? Where are you prone to overcommit and overextend? What healthy rhythms do you need to establish in your work, relationships, and daily schedule—including the Sabbath—to seize the life God has for you?
One day, some four months later, I woke up feeling something I hadn’t for as long as I could remember: I felt alive—my mind clear, my imagination ignited, my senses attuned to possibilities all around me. Joy percolated in my soul. My internal energy tank splashed over the rim. Life became manageable.
I felt like I had something to give again.
My eyes still adjusting to the morning sun, I felt a smile saunter across the corners of my face. I turned to Leif and whispered in his ear, “I’m not tired anymore.”
.005:
FORGOTTEN LONGINGS
The Wonder of Prayer
S OME A NGLICAN FRIENDS , wearing soot on their foreheads, introduced me to Lent more than a decade ago. Until then, my faith tradition was decidedly non-liturgical, and such attentiveness to the church calendar was new to me. From their descriptions, I imagined Lent as a formidable character who rode into town each year on the eve of Ash Wednesday and stayed until Easter morning. He spent every waking moment petitioning believers to prepare for Holy Week through a blend of prayer, repentance, giving, and self-denial. Though noble, Lent was dismissed with barely a glance. I treated him as if he were a stranger at a crowded dinner party.
But Lent continued pursuing me. A group of friends sang his praises. A pastor shared with enthusiasm the difference Lent made in his own life. Even a few of my favorite bloggers bragged about knowing him. Each time I encountered his name, I feltlike Lent was looking over my shoulder, smiling. I decided I needed to know him better.
Searching online, I studied Lent’s vibrant heritage and background and read about his longtime connections with the Orthodox and Catholic churches as well as newfound friendships among Mennonites and Baptists. I discovered the roots of his name, which in Latin was
quadragesima
, meaning “fortieth” based on the forty days Jesus spent in the desert before his few brief years of earthly ministry. In the Middle Ages, he became known as Lent from a German root meaning “spring,” or “long,” reflective of the spring days growing in length.
The following Ash Wednesday, I knew we shared a common bond—a fiery passion for Jesus. I felt compelled to spend the next forty days studying the crucifixion and resurrection accounts in-depth. By the time Good Friday arrived, I didn’t just take a fancy to Lent but also longed to know him better. My affections blossomed when I learned of Lent’s passion for Christ as well as his ardor for justice as demonstrated in prayer (justice toward God), fasting (justice toward self), and almsgiving (justice toward neighbors). Charmed by his personality, I dove headfirst into the Gospels the following year for another forty days, ruminating on the life of Jesus. Lent transitioned from being a drifter passing through to a dear companion.
Forty days seemed like an expensive tithe of time when we first met, but soon our time together became as fleeting as watching tumbleweed blow across the plain on a windy day. Ifound myself counting down the days until Lent’s homecoming by considering the best way to spend almost seven weeks together. Reflecting on the various facets of Lent’s character, I debated what to give up as an act of self-denial.
My friends placed a haphazard array on the altar of oblation. Some sacrificed technological tools such as Facebook, Twitter, or texting; others gave up temptations like sugar, chocolate, caffeine, soda, or fast food. Still others committed to shrinking their carbon footprint by riding their
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