One Saturday morning, 21 years ago, maybe in March, I was walking through the woods with my cousin, when Tom said, “I’m going to run a marathon for Nathan next January.” He waited and added “Disney is the flattest marathon in the country”.  He did not ask, but I felt his invitation. When I said “I’ll run it with you,” I was not thinking about how I had not run since Caleb was born.  

The next day, I preached and after lunch God smiled as both boys took a nap at the same time. Given a moment and my promise, I found my old Brooks hanging off the lawn mower. The gel-foam rebound was dead, the insoles smelled, and the uppers were as green as grass clippings. The parsonage was on a highway, so I drove to the city park and marked off a mile with the odometer. To say I struggled to jog one mile would be generous. My lungs heaved, my stomach churned, and I imagined myself dying on the park’s one tiny hill. Despite my poor start on Monday I drove to Nashville and bought new shoes at the Athlete’s House and a book entitled “The Non-runner’s Guide to Your First Marathon”. 

On a blustery December Saturday, a farmer from my church drove down a county road and spied a runner moving up a long hill. The runner’s polar fleece held little frost-icles of frozen sweet and frosty stalagmites grew atop their wool cap. It was sleeting- hard. Buddy said to his wife “who is that idiot” and pulling closer laughed; “oh that’s our preacher”  I was on an 18 miler. They called Connie and shared a laugh! Connie called them when I got home. In January, Tom grabbed my hand and we crossed the finish line together. A day later, Connie and I took two preschoolers to the Magic Kingdom, which felt substantially more draining than my 26 mile run! This Lent, rest assured, I have no plans to take up training for a marathon. However, I have been thinking about how the hardest parts of even welcomed change often come at the outset.  

Mark is so brief, so quick to the point. “At once the Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, and Jesus remained in the desert for forty days, tempted by Satan. Jesus was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him.” Mark offers no details about any of the temptations.  There is no explanation of what the phrase “the Spirit drove Jesus” means. We just see Jesus in the wilderness for 40 days.  We do not know if the first day was Jesus’ hardest day or if he struggled on the first Sabbath apart from a community of faith?  We only know that Jesus set aside 40 days of intentional spiritual practice to prepare for a few years of ministry and that purpose, hope and change still flows into our lives today through Jesus.   

Tonight, we put ashes on our hands or foreheads. Ashes for me are a gritty tactile sign of our identification with Jesus. The ashen cross someone will trace on my forehead reminds me that I am focusing on being present with Christ. I am promising to try to do things that foster a deeper sense of Christ-like-ness within me.  You may lay something to the side that does harm or distracts you, or you may pick up a practice that leads you deeper into life.  We have been talking about habits that help us thrive: being present, praying, worshiping, searching the scriptures, giving, serving and bearing witness of hope and justice.  Maybe you will add these habits to your Lenten journey. I would suggest one of the small groups will help you keep on the path. 

In Luke 4, Jesus is coming off 40 days in the wilderness and back in synagogue, Jesus uses the opening verses of Isaiah 61 to define his ministry. 

• The Lord God’s spirit is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me. God has sent me to bring good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim release for captives, and liberation for prisoners  to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

Luke stops after 2 verses but Isaiah 61 continues on… 

• (God has sent me to) comfort all who mourn, to provide for Zion’s mourners, to give them a crown in place of ashes, oil of joy in place of mourning, a mantle of praise in place of discouragement. 

Today is not a day to “bow our heads like a reed”, or allow the weight of any failures or labels to bend us over with shame.  (Isaiah 58)  Don’t feel bad if you can’t run a mile without feeling sick. Today is not the opening day of the Self-denial and Personal Piety Olympics.  Today is a day to realign your focus, to fix your eyes on Jesus, faith’s pioneer and perfecter, and run your best race with endurance. (Hebrews 12) Today is a day to pick up habits that bring life and lay down things that do harm. Today  is a day to consider wearing our ashes like “a crown”- and knowing we are beloved to move deeper into Christ’s boundless love. (Isaiah 61) Amen.