my last two coins

So, tomorrow begins Lent, Ash Wednesday, and I am already hungry.

Just kidding.

But this season is not just about physical hunger, right? It is also about spiritual hunger. Feeling that space that cries out in pain for something to fill us more completely.

I read on social media that this Lent, a great way to give is to fill 40 bags in 40 days. The idea being, as it read..."fill 40 bags with things you no longer need or use" and give it away.

Hmmm.

See the problem?

If I give up things I no longer use or need, well then, all I am doing is de-cluttering my home. This benefits me, at zero cost.

Might as well give up playing baseball, chewing tobacco, or getting my nails done, being that I do none of these things.

See what I am saying?

If I give what I will not miss, then I am missing the point.

If I fill with what is empty, how does that fill me with what is full?

The goal is Jesus.

To fill up with Him.

He is the fullness we all desire; the empty spaces that scream out in hunger are hungering for Him.

That is the truth, and I should know, as I have experienced hunger in many ways and have tried to silence that deep growl with many things, people and also with nothing. Literally, nothing. I starved. And starving on nothing fills you with nothing. You always end up empty.

But wait....empty is good, right?

We need to empty ourselves.

But there is the empty with no hope in sight, and there is the empty, so that we have room for the hope to come.

That is the empty we want.

The empty that prepares a space for the more we were made for.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta said, "A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, and must empty ourselves."

Remember the story of the widow's offering?

Jesus watched as all of the rich put their gifts into the temple treasury.

Then, the poor widow came forward.

And all that she gave up were two small coins.

"Truly, I tell you", Jesus said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." (Luke 21:1-4)

Out of her poverty.

Man, I just love that.

Think about it.

Could you fill and give away 40 bags if they contained all that you had to live on?

Could you fill just one of those bags with your favorite jacket, your most expensive shoes, the good china you use for every holiday?

How about you fill the bags with your child's college tuition, your mortgage, your car?

Makes giving up wine seem silly, doesn't it?

And truly, I am not judging those that fill 40 bags or give up wine. (And If I am, well tomorrow I will stop, ok?...I will give up judging.)

It is just what I am thinking about this night before Lent begins.

Because I want this Lent to count.

I want my sacrifice to be real.

What can I give up that will cost?

What can I let go of that will hurt?

What can I lose that will empty me of everything?

My pride?

My desire to be right?

My need to be understood?

My will?

The temptation to complain?

My fear?

My worry?

My disappointment?

Comparing?

Judging?

My love of gossip?

My constant talking?

My desire to be comfortable?

My resisting to surrender?

I pray that Jesus will reveal to me each day this Lent exactly what He desires from and for me, and that I have the discipline to be silent so that I can hear His instructions.

And I pray that I can have faith like the poor widow; that in a crowd of the wealthy, I have the fortitude to come forward, to reach deep into my pockets, and to give up my last two coins. Without fear of having nothing, without worry over how I will survive, but in total confidence, to give without counting the cost, because I know that no one who has ever approached Jesus in real sacrifice and total faith has ever walked away empty. Ever.

And I pray I wake up and actually believe this for myself.

Because at the moment, it terrifies me.