Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Lent

Fasting Makes Space for God

By

When I was a kid it was my family’s tradition to give up something for Lent. This 40-day sacrifice, I learned in my weekly catechism class, was a gesture intended to emulate the 40-day fast Jesus endured and the temptations he overcame during his time in the wilderness.

I had complicated feelings about this Lenten practice of giving something up. On one hand, the overachiever in me eagerly embraced the challenge, optimistic at the start of each Lent that this would surely be the year I triumphed over temptation.

On the other hand, I typically awoke on Ash Wednesday morning with a pit in my stomach, knowing that in addition to surviving my mother’s desiccated scrod for supper on six consecutive Fridays, I was also staring down six long weeks without chocolate. Aside from the one wildly ambitious year I vowed to give up desserts altogether, chocolate was my annual Lenten sacrifice.

Despite my good intentions, I never completed the full 40 days without cheating. Some years I stayed strong for two or three weeks with nary a nibble. Other years my resolve crumbled within days like a stale Oreo, the lingering taste of chocolate in my mouth a palpable reminder of my weakness.

Finally one year, disappointed and frustrated by my persistent inability to resist the siren songs of Hershey, Tollhouse and Breyers, I abandoned my Lenten efforts entirely. Giving up chocolate for the six weeks of Lent was silly, I determined – a meaningless, fruitless practice.

Turns out I’d missed something important during all those years of zealously trying to prove my worthiness to God by resisting temptation. Fasting, I’ve since come to understand, is more about addition than subtraction. In other words, giving something up – particularly something that occupies a lot of mental or emotional space in our lives – can help us make more space for God.

Last Wednesday, my forehead marked with an ashy cross, I began a six-week fast from my temptation of choice these days: social media.

The truth is, I spend a lot of my free time on social media.

My index finger swipes image after image on Instagram as I wait, my car engine idling, for the middle school dismissal bell.

I scroll Facebook and Twitter in the check-out line at the grocery store, while I wait for the dental hygienist to call my name, as I linger at the stove for the pasta water to boil.

Often I find myself only half listening to my kids or my husband, murmuring “Hmmm,” and “Huh” in response to their statements or questions, my eyes fixed on the small screen in my palm.

Even more than my time, though, social media also occupies a lot of my mental and emotional space. I craft clever retorts in my mind in response to snarky Facebook commenters. I dwell on the number of followers this or that author has on Instagram. Spending time on social media often leaves me feeling envious, empty and anxious.

It was time, I knew, for some space.

In some ways, returning to the practice of giving up something for Lent has brought me full-circle from the chocolate fasts of my childhood. Now, though, I understand that abstention is a valuable discipline, not because it proves my worth to God, but because I know God will meet me with grace and love in the space that opens.

The practice of fasting, it turns out, is not only about what we turn away from, it’s also about who we turn toward.

5 Things I Learned from My Six-Week Social Media Fast

By

I hadn’t “given up” anything for Lent in years, but when my pastor asked on Ash Wednesday, “What’s keeping you from growing in your relationship with God?” I knew social media was my answer.

Now that Lent is over and Easter has come and gone, I’m back on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, this time, I hope, a wiser, more discerning user. I can tell you straight up: the fast made a difference. I spend a lot less time on social media than I used to, and I’m much less inclined to pick up my phone when I have a few minutes of downtime.

Here are five things I learned from my fast.

Social media can be addicting.
I’d read the scientific research about the connection between social media and the release of the feel-good brain chemical dopamine, but I’d always assumed I was somehow immune…until, that is, I gave up social media and found myself picking up my phone two dozen times a day. It was almost like I’d trained my brain and my body to need to have my phone in my hand.

I was surprised by how long it took to break the addiction; more than two weeks passed before the urge to reach for my phone finally began to diminish.

Social media is distracting.
Turns out, there was a pattern to my social media habits. I typically scrolled Facebook or Twitter and then, when I glimpsed a headline that piqued my interest, I clicked over to the site. I rarely read an article from start to finish, but instead quickly skimmed the content before clicking over to something else, repeating this process a half-dozen times before finally clicking off the Internet altogether.

The cycle left me feeling fragmented, rushed, distracted, and vaguely anxious. Stepping away from social media allowed me to identify this pattern and see the harm it was causing my mental and spiritual well-being.

Social media impacts our ability to think critically.
My social media fast helped me see that my critical thinking skills had grown rusty. Instead of forming an educated opinion of my own, more often I simply regurgitated the opinions and arguments of others. Away from Facebook and Twitter, I was better able to ask myself, “What do YOU think about that?” and figure out my own answer.

Social media blunts our sensory perception.
Two days after Ash Wednesday I sat in my front yard, eyes closed, faced tipped toward the early spring sun, and listened to the birds. The longer I listened, the better I was able to identify distinct calls from the cacophony of chirps and cackles. I realized then that it had been a long time since I’d heard the birds. Without my nose in an app, I was more present to the nuanced beauty of God’s creation.

Social media is not the spawn of Satan.
I missed my long-distance friends during my six-week fast, the people with whom I’ve formed real relationships across the cyber waves. I missed the random pictures of sunsets and beach vacations and birthday celebrations. I missed the conversations, the curious musings, the bits of goodness scattered here and there.

My fast helped me see where my social media habits cross the line into unhealthy behavior, but it also reminded me that I needn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater.

Although it was challenging for the first few weeks, my Lenten social media fast turned out to be an enlightening and fruitful experience. And while I’m mostly glad to be back in the world of hashtags and emoji, I have a clearer understanding of why it’s better for my spiritual and mental health if social media is enjoyed in moderation.

An edited version of this post was first published in the April 29 edition of the Lincoln Journal Star.

What I’m Learning from My Social Media Fast

By

It started with a purple slip of paper on which I’d penned one word.

“Distraction.”

“What is keeping you from growing in your relationship with God?” my pastor had asked at the beginning of the Ash Wednesday service. “What sin is standing in the way?”

I wrote the word “distraction” on my purple slip of paper and dropped it into the basket as I walked forward to receive the ashy cross.

Smart phone in hand, I spend a lot of my in-between time scrolling and swiping, liking and emoting, clicking and skimming. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, email — I go from one to the other and back again, my eyes on a two-inch by four-inch screen. In line at the post office, in the dentist’s waiting room, idling at the curb at my son’s middle school, swiping and scrolling, liking and emoting, clicking and skimming.

Distraction.

I vowed to give up social media for Lent in the middle of the Ash Wednesday service. It wasn’t my intention. I hadn’t seen it coming. I haven’t “given up” anything for Lent in years, but the moment I scrawled “distraction” on my purple paper, I knew: social media had to go.

I did not go gently. I argued with God for most of the service. I bargained for Instagram. But it seemed pretty clear; it had to be an all-or-nothing fast. When I got home, I moved all my social media icons on my phone to the very last screen, four swipes in. I’d be less likely to see them there, less tempted to tap.

I noticed the birds first.

Sitting in a sunny spot in my front yard two days after Ash Wednesday, eyes closed, my face tipped toward the early spring sun, I heard the birds, an indistinguishable cacophony of twitters and cackles from the trees, the roof, the power lines. I listened as the blur of chatter began to separate into distinct calls — the screech of a blue jay, tap of a nuthatch on a tree trunk, scuffle of sparrows in the rafters, melodious house finch in the backyard.

More sounds announced themselves while I sat with my eyes closed.

Wind in the white pines, snapping cloth of the neighbor’s American flag, thrum of a bass from a nearby car, skitter of dried leaves cartwheeling across the concrete, chain saw buzzing in the distance.

It had been a long time since I’d listened to the sounds of my neighborhood.

There have been moments like this in the last two weeks. Moments when I listen and breathe. Moments when my soul is stilled.

But mostly, nearly two weeks in, I still get itchy fingers in those in-between times. I’m restless, a low-level agitation humming below the surface.

It’s a near-constant act of discipline to leave my phone in my purse.

Fighting writer’s block, I will myself not to check Facebook or Twitter. Instead, I look out the window. One day, struggling to write the notes for an upcoming talk, I spent most of the afternoon gazing out the French doors into the dull gray of my backyard.

This might sound like a lovely picture of peace. It wasn’t. It was frustrating and boring.

And lonely.

I hadn’t expected the loneliness. I don’t miss the politics. The caustic comments. I don’t miss clicking and skimming until my brain fogs with a swirl of facts and opinions. But I do miss my friends – the real relationships that have formed across the cyberwaves. I miss the pretty pictures of sunsets and vacations and birthday celebrations. I miss the conversations, the random musings, the bits of goodness scattered here and there.

I spend a lot of time on social media in my everyday, ordinary life. Some of it is necessary for my work. Some of it is good for my well-being. Most of it is not. It’s one thing to know this in theory. It’s another thing entirely to understand it in the day-to-day.

So for now I’m listening to the birds and the whisper of white pines in the wind. I’m looking out the window into my gray backyard. And I’m waiting for whatever, if anything, might rise from the depths to the surface.

A Free Lent Devotional Booklet for YOU {2017}

By

We are on the tail-end of spring fever here in Nebraska after enjoying more than a week of unseasonably warm weather. We fired up the grill for some steak kabobs, had a picnic at a local state park, and shed sweaters, jackets and boots for short sleeves and capris. It was lovely while it lasted…but it also made me forget what season we are right smack in the middle of right now, which is winter.

And with winter comes Lent, the six-week period of reflection and repentance that begins with Ash Wednesday, one week from today. For the last seven years I’ve worked with my church here in Lincoln to produce a daily Lenten devotional booklet, and this year (like last), I collaborated with two gifted writers — Evi Wusk and my husband, Brad – to create Faith in God’s Promises: Praying through Lent with Luther’s Small Catechism.

Martin Luther may be best-known for his revolutionary 95 Theses, but he also wrote a quieter volume geared toward helping parents teach their children the Bible and foundational principles of the Christian faith. It’s called Luther’s Small Catechism, and this year, the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation, is the perfect time (whether you are a parent or not – think of it as a refresher on the basics of our Christian faith) to reflect on what Luther had to say in this simple but powerful piece.

No worries – you don’t need to be a Lutheran to find the Small Catechism relevant. In fact, this little book is one of Luther’s most accessible and practical works. In it he offers concrete guidance for approaching foundational prayers such as The Lord’s Prayer and The Apostle’s Creed, as well as insights into The Ten Commandments, the sacraments of baptism and communion, and why blessings (such as those said prior to a meal) are an important part of a Christian’s faith.

Each of the devotions in Faith in God’s Promises can stand alone. But if you do wish to read the suggested corresponding text from Luther’s Small Catechism, you can do so easily by downloading the free Small Catechism app, available from Augsburg Fortress, onto your smart phone (for more information on the app, click here).

TO RECEIVE THE 2017 LENT DEVOTIONAL:

If you are already an email subscriber, you will find a link to the 2017 Lent devotional booklet at the very bottom of your email. Just click the link that says “CLICK HERE,” and it will bring you to a PDF of the devotional booklet, which you can then either save to your own computer or print.

If you do not already subscribe to my blog posts via email, I invite you to do so today. Just enter your email in the box below and click subscribe. When the “welcome” note pops up, fill in the quick information, and then when you receive the Subscription Confirmation email in your in-box, it will include a link to the free 2017 Lent devotional booklet (which you can either save to your computer or print out). When you receive the blog posts via email, you’ll also see a link to the 2017 Lent devotional booklet at the very bottom of the email.


If you have questions or run into any trouble accessing the Lent devotional booklet, feel free to email me at [email protected], and I will do my best to help.

Thank you, friends, for the gift of you. May God bless you richly as you walk through this Lenten season.

A Gift for You: The Spiritual Landscape of Lent {FREE Daily Devotional}

By

[If you subscribe to this blog via email, my apologies for the wonky post you received on Saturday. This is what happens when I go rogue and try to “fix” something on my blog without contacting my favorite tech person first! I learned my lesson, LW saved the day, and we are back to normalcy today.] 

It surprises me every year, especially the years it comes early, but it seems the season of Lent is upon us once again. This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the first day of six weeks of somber contemplation and reflection as we walk toward Easter Sunday.

For the past several years I have collaborated with my home church, Southwood Lutheran, here in Lincoln, Nebraska, to create a daily devotional for the six weeks of Lent. This year, as I have the last couple of years, I am delighted to offer this devotional to you as well, as a small way to say thank you for your encouragement and the gift of your presence here throughout the year. My husband Brad, my friend Evi Wusk and I all collaborated on the writing of this year’s devotional.

cover

The theme of the devotional this year is the Spiritual Landscape of Lent. Our physical landscape, with its mountains, valleys and deserts, often mirrors our spiritual landscape, and this devotional brings some of those commonalities to light.

Let’s journey together through Lent this year and discover the gifts God offers us every step of the way.

To Receive the 2016 Lent Devotional:

If you are already an email subscriber, you will find a link to the 2016 Lent Devotional at the very bottom of your email (scroll all the way down to the black box, below the images of my books). Just click the link that says “CLICK HERE,” and it will bring you to the devotional, which you can then either save to your own computer or print.

If you do not already subscribe to my blog posts via email, I invite you to do so today. Just enter your email in the box below and click subscribe. When the “welcome” note pops up, fill in the quick information, and then when you receive the Subscription Confirmation email in your in-box, it will include a link to the free 2016 Lent Devotional (which you can either save to your computer or print out). When you receive the blog posts via email, you’ll also see a link to the 2016 Lent Devotional at the very bottom of the email.


If you have questions or run into any trouble accessing the Lent Devotional, feel free to email me at [email protected], and I will do my best to help.

Thank you, friends, for the gift of you. May God bless you richly as you walk through this Lenten season.