Gindi Vincent

Today is Lent.

I’ve written before about how I didn’t really grow up with a Lent tradition in my church.

But in my current church, it is a centerpiece. And I am learning so much.

There are years I have given up (sugar, alcohol…), and years I have given back, and last year I don’t think I did anything.

This year, I talked to the kids about it. What the season means and where we should focus. From dust we were born, and to dust we shall return.

A season acknowledging our humanness and seeking repentance and finding our way to the Resurrection.

As we talked last night, we talked about the places we needed to sacrifice to make more room for God’s work in our life. It wasn’t a deep and profound conversation. It was done in fits and spurts as kids darted and interrupted but we got to the main points.

The main point is one I was reminded of in a blog post by Ann Voskamp yesterday: There’s a giving up that only gains. There’s a sacrifice that only fulfills… When we know we are but dust, when our hearts have been crushed – is exactly when we are meant to entrust all into the hands of the Potter, so He can remake all to be more like Christ... Give up, whatever you need, to hear God speak.

What did we need to give up to hear God speak? What am I giving up to know God more?

This is where I believe we arrived. I am going to give up yelling, or try really hard. This is a struggle I grew into after I had kids. I never yelled until I became a parent. I didn’t lose my temper. I stuffed. But now, I yell. I grew up with a yelling parent and I really want to do it differently.

The eldest is going to give up yelling too. Because when a parent yells, a lot of times the kids yell too. The youngest, who originally was going to sign up for the same thing, has decided instead to give up t.v. This is huge because he is absolutely my t.v. addict. Little bit has not said what she is focusing on yet.

So, to slightly incentivize (and remind us), we are going to have four glass jars on the kitchen table. They will start with five one dollar bills in them. You flip on the t.v. or yell or whatever it is, you have to pay one of your dollars in your jar (and you’ll receive them based on when others forget about this season’s sacrifice). We’ll see how it works.

Granted, the money is a less spiritual aspect, but I’m hoping it will hold us accountable.

And in the giving up, we’re going to have to lean heavy on Jesus because I can tell you right now I can’t do this alone. None of us can give up part of our sin and self without a massive dose of God-strength.

The good news: He’ll give to all who ask.

So here’s to trying, not in our strength, but trying in His strength and to grow more like Him in the giving up of ourselves: Your strength will not get it done… Your power will not do it either. Only the power of my Spirit will do it,’ says the Lord who rules over all. (Zech. 4:6)

I’ve written a lot in 2020 about rest. Stillness. Quiet.

But I was struck by something when sitting in my car waiting to go into my friend’s church yesterday morning. There, in front of me, was a building emblazoned with “Rest, Relax, Restore.”

It was a spa.

Now, I’m a big fan of spas. I’m sure I’ve written several blog posts from my favorite one in Houston.

But what truly is rest? And do you actually leave transformed after a massage? That was the juxtaposition I sat with there in my car.

I had also just received my morning devotional from Christine Caine entitled The Promise of God’s Rest. It’s probably why the sign struck me. Caine referenced Hebrews 4 and the SIX references made to rest in the first 11 verses of that chapter. In part, Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience…

It got me thinking about the ultimate purpose of rest.

In a culture that is rushing around like crazy, unable to do all the things we have on our to do list (I know, I’m chief among them), we’re craving rest. An extra hour to sleep in. A weekend retreat. A massage.

But that will not bring us deeply restorative soul rest.

It’s a bandaid over a gaping wound.

What we need is soul rest. The rest that only God can provide. God’s rest gives us a deep peace and healing.

And not rest for rest’s sake. Rest that compels us, propels us, to do His work that He’s preordained for us.

The verse in Hebrews 4 right after the 11 verses on rest? For the word of God is active and alive. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit…

It’s action. Rest gives us what we need to act. Because we were not created to sleep in and get massages. We were created to do His work. Reflect His glory. Shine His light. Go into all the world.

That’s exhausting work. Pushing back darkness results in some rough battlefields. Which is why He calls us to rest. But to rest IN HIM. And then to go. To act. To change the world.

Sundays have long been a day when I cook.

Some Sundays, I perform better than others.

This Sunday, with my kids on a quick trip away with Bray to the farm, I had big plans. I grocery-shopped early this morning with recipes in hand for this week’s menu for our family and for others.

I rarely have time to make more than two meals because of kid interference, but without interruption I was confident I could make progress.

In addition to the meals for our week, which is shaping up to be very busy, I wanted to deliver meals to a couple of other families who have had their hands full.

I don’t know if this is a result of living in the south or growing up in a preacher’s family, but I like to cook for people who could use some relief. After a baby comes or a divorce hits or during an illness or after a death, a meal is the only thing I feel like I can actually do. It was like that after the hurricane. I couldn’t take away all the loss and destruction, but I could feed people.

I need to do.

Here’s where this story goes down a little side trail, so hang with me.

Recently, my best friend started figuring out her Enneagram number which led me to investigate mine. None of the tests out there gave me the same result, but the best I could tell I was a Number 3.

After reading the description, this made some sense to me. The Achiever. Driven, success-oriented, image conscious. I think of this number as sort of the worst one you can get. And because I have struggled with pride for probably as long as I can remember character struggles, this assesment resonated. In my mind, being driven and struggling with pride meant I was selfish.

As I read on, each Enneagram type apparently has a “wing.” That is, as they explain: Your wing complements your primary type and adds important, sometimes contradictory, elements to your total personality. Your wing is your ‘second side’ of your personality.

No matter how I tested, Number 2 kept coming out as my wing. Now that one is The Helper. That person is generous. I couldn’t quite marry that type with how I saw the selfish part of myself.

Then, a few weeks ago, little bit and I were driving to one of my friend’s house to deliver a meal since she’d recently had her first baby. Little bit looked over at me and said, mommy, you’re always thinking about everyone else before yourself.

I cracked. While I held it together in that moment, when I was retelling the story to my best friend, I just cried. It’s like I got a glimpse of the good that God sees that I can’t see because my weaknesses block my view of the good. I told her, of course I’m a Wing 2, why am I having such a hard time with that? I love to help people. I love to volunteer to host parties for new kids at the school and take people meals and make sure teachers who are divorced get flowers and show up to organize clothes or food pantries.

I visited a church this morning where a dear friend of mine preached the service. A powerful message on our “origin story” – we are God’s beloved and we were made to be loved (and love others). She explained that so often all these negative messages we’ve gotten over the course of our lives drown out the message of our true worth and meaning. We can’t see our true value and God given purpose because we only see our weaknesses and failures.

Yes. All of that.

So what does all this have to do with my Sunday cooking?

I looked at these two extra pans of food. It took no real extra effort. I just made double batches of enchiladas and tetrazzini. Those pans reminded me of the goodness that God placed inside of me. The desire I have had, for basically ever, to help.

I can recognize that without any harmful pride, of which I still have plenty in other areas of my life. This is not a boast but a recognition of His grace in me. A tiny little way He allows me to love others since He has so lavishly loved me.

Their band sang a song with a refrain that says, I give myself away. I give myself away, so You can use me. I played it on repeat today as I cooked. We give ourselves away to be used by God. In whatever small ways we can find.

For whatever baggage there might be out there about women and kitchens, I sure found a lot of freedom in mine today.