Staying Awake

Matthew 26:36-38

If you ever wonder what Lent is all about, look no further than this text from Matthew—on the night of his Passion, Jesus goes to pray, asking only that his disciples stay awake with him. It is an absurdly simple request—-stay awake with me—sit with me—be with me—help me not be so alone. It is a request we make of others quite frequently. We do not want to be alone when we feel tested, worried, or overwhelmed. We want someone to be with us just to be with us. Yet, the disciples fail to do so. They cannot remain alert. They cannot stay focused. They fall asleep on the job. They end up leaving Jesus more alone than if he had simply gone by himself into Gethsemane to pray. 

And this is the whole point of Lent—to not leave Christ alone in his presence with us.

That in and of itself raises all sorts of issues to consider. 

To begin, we note that Christ is with us. There is never a moment—not one—wherein Christ is not with us. Christ is there each morning when we rise; Christ walks with us throughout the course of the entire day; Christ is with us as we fade into sleep at night. Christ is there through it all. And if Christ is there through it all, then Christ’s gifts of grace, healing, reclamation, counsel, and welcome are also present in every single moment of the day. Christ never ceases his prayers. Christ never ceases his intercessions. Christ never takes a break from being Christ.

But, how often through our day do we fall asleep on Christ, oblivious to his presence, dulled to his counsel, and lost in our own little worlds? 

I do not mean to come across as overly judgmental or dismissive of our lives—quite the contrary—there is so much to deal with every single day, it is a wonder we can keep touch with much of anything or anyone! Why, just this afternoon I found myself repeating myself to Alison, telling her something I had just said not ten minutes earlier, but for the life of me had no recollection of having told her—no, not Alzheimer’s, just too much to do and too little time to do it. 

What happens, though, is that we lose touch with our deepest selves. We lose touch of what truly ought to be and should be at the core of our existence. We become numb to the presence of love at the center of our being. We become insensate to the presence of God, let alone one another. 

Lent is meant to be a wake-up call, the clanging phone in the room from the front desk, snapping us to life. It is meant to be a focused, intentional time of waiting for and with Christ each day. 

Which brings me to the traditional practice of giving things up for Lent. That practice is well and good if it truly sharpens our minds and centers our hearts on God. It flows directly from the scriptural witness that Christ fasted for forty days in the wilderness before the Tempter arrived to test him to the core of his being. Christ gave up physical comforts and succor to sharpen his attention, clear his mind, and open his heart to God. So, too, should our practice of ritual deprivation be if we choose to follow it. Give up things that get in the way of being with God. Let go of the distractions, persuasions, and commitments that lead us away from being aware of God. That is the point of self-sacrifice in faith praxis. It is to make us more singular in our focus, and that alone. The end is to reawaken to the ineffable presence of God, nothing more, nothing less. 

Now we need to consider not what we give up, but we ADD to our lives as we seek to wake up to God.

An excellent means by which to awaken to God is to talk with God and to listen for God—i.e., PRAY. Make prayer an intentional part of your day—several times a day. You need not spend hours, unless that is truly what you need to do, but you can offer prayers over breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Yes, that may mean forgoing lunch with the buddies for a bit, but friends will understand. Pray while driving to and from work if that brings you focus. Pray while exercising at the Y—the TV can rest. Just pray—welcome God, be welcomed by God. Think things through with God. Talk things over with God. Sound silly? It was exactly what we find Christ doing in Gethsemane. 

Another means by which to awaken to God is read God’s story—i.e., read the Bible—do some Word, as I mentioned in a recent sermon. Spending time each day with a story or two can do wonders in getting us attuned to God and God’s intent for us. Spending time even with a single verse can snap us to attention, suddenly fully illuminating something we confess, do, believe, or ponder. 

Still another means by which to awaken to God is to spend time in our fellowship. Christ came to start a community—a COMMUNION—of grace. Spend time in it. Drop by the church even if it is not an hour for worship, class, or a meeting—just come to be here, to soak in the place, the people, the experience. Sitting on a bench in the playground in the morning can be a wondrous experience of manifestation as the new sun strikes the cross atop the sanctuary. Passing through the halls while the Preschool meets is a reintroduction to being a child in the presence of God. Talking with the staff is a means to recollect who the church is. Coming for worship, class, or a meeting then becomes something else altogether, something deeper, and something wonderful as you feel the embrace of this community and fellowship, and you embrace it in return. 

Do not be limited by these suggestions. You are all creative, imaginative people. You also know better than anyone else what it takes to wake you up. Use that knowledge. Put it to work. Awaken to your potential. Awaken to your own possibilities. Awaken.

To get us started, go back to the story. Hear again Christ’s request—Stay awake with me. Hear it spoken directly to you—right here, right now. Do not let the troubles, trials, and temptations of the present moment dissuade you from answering. Instead, wake up!