Matthew 12:1-22

“When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil …”

Once again, we come to the next-to-last week of Lent, our personal remembrances—offerings and sacrifices—of the season, a weak echo of the humility of the Son of God that we see in his journey from birth to the Cross. Did we successfully navigate the temptation to eat chocolate, or donuts, or wine, standing firm against the wiles of the Enemy in our self-proscribed wilderness? Did we succeed at increasing our giving? Did we reach out more to those around us who are in need?

There are at least two ways to fail at Lenten disciplines. One way is to simply blow it, mindlessly peeling the foil of a Hershey’s Kiss® from the bowl in the office conference room while you are waiting for the meeting to start and complaining to yourself that this is the third time this month someone has called a meeting and showed up late. Once the chocolate lands on your tongue you realize your mistake and wordlessly debate whether Jesus wants you to spit it out. By the time the candy dissolves in your mouth the debate resolves, you admit you have been betrayed by a kiss, and silently recite the Jesus Prayer, “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

And he does show mercy. Then he gently points out that there was a lot more going on in that scene than simply eating some forbidden chocolate. He reveals the deeper problem at work in your heart. Once again, he shows mercy.

Another way to fail at Lent is to succeed. You resist those “free” donuts in the break room, but not because your fasting-heightened senses enable you to catch a tell-tale whiff of sulfur in the air. Instead, you have set your face to avoid even the appearance of evil, walked past that open box of deliciousness, and poured a cup of black coffee to brace yourself against the inevitable next wave of temptation—the victory march back down the hall to your office. You’re pretty sure the angels are cheering, but you can’t let on that you secretly believe you have established yourself as one of the most humble and obedient human beings to ever observe Lent.

Jesus was cheered when he humbled himself and rode into Jerusalem on the back of a gentle colt, instead of a conquering hero’s warhorse. His motives were pure and unmixed, nothing like the earnest yet conflicted motives with which we approach our journey in Lent.

What if part of the practice of Lent is to remind us how he can put us at ease over those internal conflicts and anxieties we experience? It was not unusual for some in the early Church to see in the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem as an allegory of his entry into each of our lives. Without fanfare, no imperial decree, with only the quiet movement of undeniable truth, he lovingly comes to dwell in the only temple that matters to him—our hearts.

According to Matthew the very next thing Jesus does upon entering Jerusalem is cleanse the temple. Allegorically he is cleansing us. He releases us from the attachments that keep us from the life he desires for us—the life we ourselves increasingly desire as we allow him to do some much needed remodeling. When we see ourselves as his temple, as his Jerusalem, our conflicts and anxieties begin to be replaced with fullness, peace and completion—the meaning of the name Jerusalem.

PRAYER

Heavenly Father, in your grace and mercy, enable us to open the gates of our own city of Jerusalem to you every day, that you may enter in and cleanse the temple of our heart, freeing us from our turmoil to live in the settled peace and goodness of your eternal kingdom. Amen.

Skip McKinstry
Spiritual Formation Team

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