lent liturgy.

Last year was the first time I ever observed Lent, and you may remember that I chose to fast from caffeine (coffee and tea) for the season. It was a meaningful experience, which I wrote about here.

This winter, after talking with David and some others, I decided that, instead of “putting off” something for the 6 weeks of Lent, I’d “take up” something. I wanted to do it with my children, since we are more or less together all day.

And so our Lent Liturgy was born. This year Lent started on Valentine’s Day.

Here’s what I wanted it to be about:

Lent Liturgy was an intentional pause. We dropped everything and took a break from school or other activities each weekday morning, usually after our 10:00 snack and recess.

We gathered at the dining table with activities to keep little hands busy (I learned this lesson the hard way, after a couple weeks of frustration in making everyone sit still). Judah or Amie lit candles or, because my candle tapers are always burned down to stubs, my Mast General Store kerosene lamp. I usually brought a steaming mug of Earl Gray tea. And we did the following:

Read Psalm 23

Read a small selection from Catherine Vos’ Child’s Story Bible

Practice our catechism questions

Bow our heads and take turns thanking God for something

Recite The Lord’s Prayer

Close with singing either The Gloria Patri or The Doxology

That’s it. All of this took maybe 15 minutes, 20 if we got into a discussion along the way. It’s called a liturgy because it was a form to conduct our worship, and we followed the same form day after day.

It was a pause, to reflect on Christ and worship Him. It was a very mini-Sabbath.

I strove to do this each week day for the whole of Lent.

Can I tell you something?

It felt so awkward at first. It seemed rote and embarrassing and sometimes meaningless. In between sibling bickering and school lessons, I often thought, This feels pointless. My heart often felt dead and hard and sad. I was tired and to be honest, my kids drove me crazy with their relentless needs.

In short, this was not something I was gung-ho about.

Instead, Lent Liturgy was a step of faith. A light in the dark.

To me it was a snapshot of my life this winter and spring. Sometimes a cloud of darkness settles, and the only thing to do is to go through the motions. I wake up and by faith get out of bed another day and fulfill my vows to my husband, my children, my church. I ask God to help me be faithful. And to believe that one day my heart will soften and the darkness will ease and the feelings will come back.

Faith in God looks like believing, with Andrew Peterson, that This is the dark before the dawn.

Lord, I’m waiting for the change.

I tell you all of this not to be depressing, but to explain Lent Liturgy. We gathered and went through the schedule, day after day, week after week. And you know what?

It is the beginning of May, three months later, and a change has come.

Perhaps not in all areas of my life, but in this area of our Lent Liturgy, there is a dawn.

We kept our habit after Easter — after Resurrection Sunday — because, quite frankly, we enjoy it.

I’m not exactly sure when or how, but our little liturgy became — not something awkward or rote — just normal. A part of who we are. These days we call it our worship time, and we do it three days a week, as a full stop in a busy morning, and a bridge to other school subjects we do together.

We memorized all of Psalm 23 during Lent simply by reading it together daily. Now we’re memorizing The Great Commission, Matthew 28: 18-20.

We added in a chapter of a missionary biography after our singing time, because our church is preparing to send out our first two missionary families, and the kids have so many questions. These are their friends and they want to be part of praying and sending.

I hesitated to write a post about this, because it all feels deeply personal, and this is not an advertisement to “be more spiritual” or to do exactly what we do. But the truth is, the reason I started Lent Liturgy in the first place was through learning from my friends. Watching their families. Seeing the intentional conversations they have. Asking them about their regular worship practices. Wanting something more.

Having a regular, set worship time together with my children has helped tremendously in our ability to talk about spiritual things with ease. David has always had this ability with the kids, but I didn’t want them to think that if they have questions about God, they must wait and ask their dad.

We needed a common language, and Lent Liturgy gave us one.

Some days still feel like going through the motions, and you know what? It’s okay. I’ve learned that that is still honoring to God. He’s deserving of all worship and praise whether my heart is on fire, or whether it is frayed.

He’s faithful to bring the dawn, I just surrender and repent and try to pay attention. Some days we have conversations that astound me. Some days I have to sit at the worship table and ask for forgiveness for the way I’ve treated one of them — or all of them. That is a gift.

I believe that all four of my kids have the Spirit of God inside of them. Watching Him soften their hearts — even in a dark season of my life — softens my own. He’s so faithful. My family’s story of following Christ is not about me. It’s about Him. If I go through the motions, one day at a time, however feebly, He will bless it beyond measure.

And so these days I look forward to our gathering. I feel in my heart that I need our morning worship time even more than my kids do. I look forward to what I’ll learn. We bow for our thanksgiving prayer. The kids are allowed to be thankful for anything and everything they want, and so some days it’s a chorus of “Thank you for flowers, animals, my Pokemon cards.” Which, I believe, brings God great joy.

And other days, because of learning our catechism, Gabe prays, “Dear God, thank you for giving me a soul that will last forever” and after reading Catherine Vos’ adaptation of the creation account, Judah says, “Dear God, thank you for giving us the choice to love you.” This also brings God joy.

Other mornings we just have fun and laugh. Noah asks the best questions about creation and God’s power.

For every 20 catechism answers the kids and I learn, we drop everything and pile into the van and drive to Dunkin’ Donuts to pick out a dozen. Even Noah can learn the answers, with our help. We cheer each other on, and the kids get to quiz Mom too, because who doesn’t want a donut party?

Who would’ve expected these flashes of joy?

Thanks be to God.