Lent II: The full armor of God
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The look on his face was unmistakable. He’d been in the rooms of 12-step recovery for years, but his sitting off to the side, clutching his wife’s hand, and looking anywhere but at us, told me what had happened: He’d gone back out.
Eventually, he confessed. “I thought, ‘I’ve got this,’” he said. “I stopped going to meetings, stopped calling others and doing the work. I thought I was too busy to take time in the morning for prayer.” It was a sad and familiar tale, but it was the look of shame that squeezed my heart. The crowd did what it always does, welcomed him back and let him know he was not alone by telling their own struggles.
The apostle Paul writes about wearing the full armor of God, that we should put it on before making our way through the world. I remember hearing the passage when I was a child and liked the idea of being a knight and wearing armor. Back then, though, I pictured shiny, new armor, but I’ve grown more attracted to the dented, beat-up kind, the kind that’s been to battle, and those who wear it. I guess that’s why I’m drawn to the rooms of 12-step recovery, but the message I was reminded of that morning was one for us all.
The world in which we live is cunning and baffling. Although I think God wants only good for us all, there are people, places, and things that make that challenging. There are also ways we make the road more difficult on ourselves (and others) with the ambition we exercise, the fear we hold, and the insecurity we release.
It sometimes feels like temptations surround us! Whether it’s to eat what we shouldn’t, buy what we can’t afford, gaze at things that rot our souls, or bend the truth to suit our professional or personal wants, temptations dangle before us hoping we’ll take a bite.
No wonder we need help. No wonder we need the “full armor of God.” Without such armor, I go on automatic pilot and start thinking, “I’ve got this.” When that happens, it’s only a matter of time before I look like the man sitting off to the side full of shame.
Lent, for me, is a time to re-attach my armor. It’s dented and tarnished, but it’s all I need. One piece is to take time for morning solitude, so I connect to God and remember to whom I belong; another piece is to connect with like-minded souls who are willing to be vulnerable and real; a third piece is to perform an act of service to ensure I get outside of myself; and another is to study and learn from others further on the journey.
No one piece guarantees success, but, together, they’ll give me a chance to be the person I was created to be. Lent is a perfect time to remember that and do something about it.