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     “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  Drawing from the last line of Mary Oliver’s poem, “The Summer Day,” Episcopal priest Michael Marsh began his Ash Wednesday’s sermon with Oliver’s question, believing it to be the perfect question we need to answer as we navigate through Lent.  Marsh remarks that “sometimes it feels like Lent gets overly focused on our past, the things we’ve done and left undone, the life we have already lived.  But what if Lent is really about the life yet to be lived?  What if he gave as much or more attention to where we are going as we do to where we have been or come from?”

Not having grown up observing the season of Lent, I must confess that the years of observance since then have centered mostly on the past rather than the future.  It just seems to fit the season, if you know what I mean.  But I don’t want to dismiss Marsh’s venture into addressing Oliver’s question.  He goes on to say that “I’ve begun to think that maybe our greatest sins are ones in which we tame and impoverish our own lives and the lives of others…we let fear, self-doubt, guilt, regrets, disappointments, or wounds tame our life.  Every time we try to control life, guarantee outcomes, or live within the boundaries of what is safe and predictable we tame our life.  And when our lives are tamed, regardless of how that happens, we live less than who we truly are and want to be.  Something is broken.  Something is lost.”

I doubt Marsh was listening to the rock band Steppenwolf and their song, “Born to Be Wild” in the background as he was writing his sermon, but he could have.  In talking about living a wild life, he is not talking about doing “crazy stuff, or being disobedient, or living an unruly life.  I am talking about being open, unbounded, and free – not so much to do whatever you want but to receive whatever comes to you, to stay open to what you can neither control nor foresee.  I am talking about not letting the past define or domesticate you, and not letting the present moment close in on, capture, and cage you.”

I could easily point to others I know who have adopted this posture of taming their lives.  In some or in many ways, we all have held back for whatever reason.  But if we were to use these 40 days of the season of Lent  to choose a wild life over a broke life, what would we need to do or reclaim such a life?  A life – wild with love, wild with compassion, wild with mercy, wild with forgiveness, wild with kindness…you get the idea.

But not only a wild life, a precious life as well.  Life is short and uncertain, with no guarantees outside of no one is getting out of here alive.  But that doesn’t make life meaningless!  Instead of negating the value and beauty of life, such reality only intensifies them, making life even more precious.  Marsh begins to wrap up his Ash Wednesday sermon with these words: “The preciousness of life means that we are of infinite value.  Do you see and believe that about yourself?  Or are you devaluing yourself or another?  We are the treasure chests that hold God’s heart.  So maybe this Lent you divest yourself of everything that diminishes your preciousness.  How would your life be different if your lived from a place of preciousness?  If you saw others as precious?”

See you Sunday,

Gary