Has God forgotten?
Andrea Calvert graduated from Tyndale Seminary with a Master's of Divinity in Spiritual Formation. She is a fully trained Spiritual Director and is working towards her certification through the Canadian Council of Professional Certification (CCPC). She is a member of the Tyndale Association of Spiritual Directors (TASD) and adheres to their Code of Ethics and Standards of Practice.
Andrea became a Christian in 2012, after a battle with depression, anxiety and PTSD. Since then she has enjoyed many different roles in ministry. Her greatest passion is to help others grow their faith.
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Ps. 77:9, CSB
Lent is a time of waiting. A solemn occasion of sacrifice, and reflection leading up to the events of Good Friday.
I walked down my road, gravel crunching under my feet, questions and thoughts circling around in my mind.
How can some churches verbally attack others and profess love at the same time?
If there's room for that in God’s Kingdom, there must be room for all. Right?
God was stirring in my mind, heart, and soul. It was a beautiful summer morning for a walk. The skies were blue. The air had that morning crispness to it, and I listened to the birds calling back and forth to each other. As I walked down my country backroad I reflected on the ministry of Jesus, yet I muddled over the gloomy truth of what I witnessed. I found myself asking,
Where did grace go?
Psalm 77 begins with a plea,
I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me.
My walk down the road did nothing to ease the loneliness that had been present for the past few weeks, oppressively surrounding me. I cried aloud to God but got very little in response. Just my own musings and frustrations. I was asking questions in the church that made others uncomfortable –
Is evangelism an idol?
Is the church an idol?
Is the church vocal about some communities because their voice has no power there?
I was asking questions that made me uncomfortable -
What am I even doing in here?
Why do I go to church?
How do I love Christians who speak hateful, judgmental things directed at others?
How do I love myself for doing the same thing?
The psalmist cries out “has God forgotten to be gracious?” But I wondered –
God? Has the church forgotten to be gracious?
“Loneliness”. Painted by the author during this particular season
I continued walking, kicking stones and watching them skip down the road ahead of me. A bird flew by, and in the distance, I heard the call of a loon on West Lake. My neighbour’s horses met me along the fence line, curious about this intruder but happily enjoying their breakfast, nonetheless. I didn’t have answers, and I didn’t really expect to find any. Maybe grace is in the wrestling, and rumbling of our own internal struggles. That place, deep within, where we find ourselves and God in the same moment. Margaret Silf calls this the “molten core” of our being. I learned through silence and solitude that my molten core is filled with the desire for inclusive equality.
Silf explains that our lives are made up of circumstances we can’t control – like the weather – and the choices that we make because of those moments – if it’s raining, you grab an umbrella. Some are simple, everyday matters, but others are big, life- changing events. The crossroads. I stood there now, and I had to ask myself, do I stay the course, knowing there will be sacrifices? Understanding that my interpretation of Jesus is different than many others in my community?
Can I say with the psalmist,
I will remember the Lord’s works…
I will reflect on all you have done,
And meditate on your actions.
God, your way is holy…
You are the God who works wonders?
Ps. 77:11-14 (CSB)
I was in a period of lament, and wonder. Surrender, and growth. A time of gracious tension. Even though I was going through a period of oppressive loneliness, when my spiritual director asked me to describe it with one word (no small feat!), one that came to mind was excitement. How could I possibly be excited about this experience? I felt like God had no answers for me, like no change would ever occur. But I trusted that God is “the God who works wonders.” So yes, I stay the course. I follow the Spirit, and make the changes in my life that need to take place. Living and loving in the gracious tension.
For me, it meant finding a new community, without damaging relationships from my old one, even though we may disagree. (Don’t get me wrong, it was still months before I enacted the changes I knew were coming!) It means moving forward in love, but speaking out against spiritual abuse, even though I may experience backlash. It means both sacrifice and surrender, but also growth and wonder.
What does gracious tension look like for you?
Thank you for reading the New Leaf Lent Series, a collection of reflections from writers across Canada. If you are enjoying the reader, sign up to receive the readings in your inbox each day here: SIGN UP
And please share this reflection with your friends and family who might also enjoy it.
Read more posts for Lent
In the spring, I’m a rugby coach. I’m also a lot of other things, but in the spring, I live in my rugby sweatshirt. I love the smell of the earth—the dirt softening and giving way to grass. I love that it is a sport that draws together an eclectic group of players, a few who are naturally athletic or have played other sports, but also many for whom this is it, a hodgepodge of misfits finding a place to belong…
I recently attended my first “Forest Church” service. The conservation area where it was hosted was one of the most beautiful sanctuaries I have ever gathered in. The snow was melting, and the creek was rushing with its runoff, creating a background rhythm, which was joined by a gentle breeze whistling through the trees and accompanied by a choir of birds singing their choruses…
Kids are chasing each other around, ‘sword fighting’ with the cedar branches that we just handed them. I try to corral these little warriors, seeking to control that which simply won’t be controlled. Sigh. This is how our church’s Palm Sunday ‘processional’ begins…
Like many others have expressed in their reflections, the Lenten season has a special place in my being. It coincides nicely with the darkest time of the year, during which I often find myself heavily stressed and depressed. Every year, old wounds and new wounds find themselves out in the open, and God invites me on another journey towards healing…
In 2017, I lost two grandparents within months of each other. With my 嫲嫲 (paternal grandmother), the news was not unexpected. She had been ill for quite some time, slowly deteriorating in the hospital…
I am writing during a Sabbatical pause from work and ministry,
And this is a dangerous place.
I’ve been thinking and reflecting and longing and feeling a LOT lately…
For the past few years, I have slowly been making my way through Robert Alter’s translation (with commentary) of the Hebrew Bible, and it just so happened that I began the book of Job in mid-January. Job can be a difficult book for many reasons, but, somewhat surprisingly, I have found the Job poet’s words to be particularly relevant and meaningful as I journey through Lent this year…
Over the years, the story of Jesus washing his disciple’s feet has captivated my imagination. A few years ago, Jesus’ response (“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”) to Peter’s declaration that Jesus would NEVER wash his feet caught my attention as I pondered what it means to be willing to receive…
What do you want to do with your one and only life?
Be your true, authentic self!
Live from the centre of who you truly are!
These kinds of over-sized enthusiastic questions and maxims are what greet people like me who live in the liminal space of trying to decide what to do next…
Lent is a season of preparation and a time to remember Jesus’ journey to Golgotha so that we can celebrate Jesus’ resurrection with great joy. I observed a fast and other spiritual disciplines during Lent for many years. Yet, I’ve struggled to find a meaningful Lenten practice to observe this year…
The early years of my spiritual formation happened in a large Evangelical Pentecostal church in the little city of Guelph, Ontario. During the 90s, Lent was not a season that we spoke about or practiced in our faith tradition. We certainly wished no ill will towards our mainline brothers and sisters, but I always had the impression that we were at best suspicious…
I woke up this morning with the weight of the world on my chest. I have learned to listen with compassion to these weights, but this morning, the weight is mysterious. I can’t quite point to one cause…
That little whisper in my ear or a feeling in my gut that says there is not enough to go around. I need to fight for my share. My fear that something that can’t be healed will happen to my kids. My tendency to overestimate and project far into the future the negative consequence of one small action (or inaction). These are the ways that the accuser uses temptations in my life…
“Each morning comes along and you assume it will be similar enough to the previous one – that you will be safe, that your family will be alive, that you will be together, that life will remain mostly as it was.”
That’s from Cloud Cuckoo Land, American author Anthony Doerr’s new book.
“Then a moment arrives and everything changes” (64).
In Cloud Cuckoo Land, the world ends roughly five times…
I’m yanking persistent weeds through the black shroud covering last summer’s flower beds. It’s Good Friday. Steve, who has only 15 days left to live, is sitting in the sun keeping me company – that simple act of marriage – while I weed and muse…
The time: Ash Wednesday, February 1996. The place: worship in the chapel at St. Boniface Hospital in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Sitting there, eyes closed, the words of the service washing over me but not really sinking in until suddenly the singing of the psalm refrain began to filter through. The voices lifted in prayer were singing “Mon Dieu, donnez moi un coeur nouveau….”
I struggled with the meaning of Lent this year. With the wars and so many conflicts in our own town, country, and the world, I wondered what my Lenten practices should be? Would fasting from food help in a world full of suffering and uncertainties? What should be my prayer focus? What should I do as almsgiving for Lent this year?
We first wrote “twelve hours of daylight” in 2016 as part of an anthology (FEAST) of spoken word poems that are still unpublished. Like most of our work, we take our deep love of the scriptures and weave them together to speak to current realities. In this particular poem, there are a few references to cities, including Vancouver and Montreal, where we were living at the time of writing…
It’s been two years since the world began shutting down where I live in Saskatoon. My Facebook and google photo memories have been popping up these past few weeks with the events that I still remember as the last time I did this or that.
I see the memory of my gratitude for my birthday gathering and I can’t help but think “ahh, the last party we threw.” …
When Amy asked me to write a reflection about Lent, I wasn't sure if I would do it. To be honest I wasn't sure if I was qualified to do this as my first “real” introduction to Lent was from people around the New Leaf table and my mother-in-law. Because in my tradition, we don't really observe Lent. Growing up in Texas, I thought it was only for Catholic people to do…
Most years I have come to long for Lent, and this year perhaps more than most. I’m not sure how I was first initiated into practicing this season but it likely began with noticing the change in liturgical colours decorating my rural Protestant church. Purple must have captured my imagination…
Each Good Friday and Easter, I have this strange habit of checking to see if the weather matches the theological mood of the day. Will Good Friday be gloomy and rainy? Will Easter be bright and sunny, preferably after a few gloomy days?
Lent invites us into a process of letting go. Perhaps this is most commonly expressed in the practice of fasting traditionally associated with this season. But now, as we enter Holy Week, this reflection invites us to consider letting go in a different way . . .
We were five minutes into the woods, less than ten minutes away from a busy street. All I could hear were the ins and outs of my breath, the soft crunching of snow beneath my feet, the blowing snow, and the sound of squirrels chattering, when, suddenly, blissful silence. Not even the whistling of the wind could be heard…
I’ve always needed Lent in a personal way. I have a tendency to fill my plate to overflowing—drawn to every flavour and texture and combination. Wanting to savour every bit, but also rushing to the next so quickly that the richness of each is often compromised…