lent 2012: my journey

For Lent, I gave up being manipulative.

This may sound weird. Usually I give up chocolate or something. But this year was different.

In the month or so preceding Lent, I had felt pressed to maintain a state of vulnerability with those around me. Vulnerability looked like this for me:

It meant that I would be honest. Isn't that a hard thing to be? To really be honest. With myself and with others. At church during confession time, I needed to confess. Even if it wasn't anything "big," I needed to let people see that I wasn't perfect; heck, I needed to see that I wasn't perfect.

It meant that I would be quick to listen, and slow to speak. Interesting to think about vulnerability and listening being related, eh? Usually we think about vulnerability being expressed through talking. Telling people how you feel. But for me, and I think for a lot of us, listening can be just as vulnerable of a place as talking. Listening means we are sitting back, letting someone else control the situation with their words. Listening means taking the time to tune into ourselves and those around us, rather than assuming we know the right answer and blurting it out.

It meant that I would get over myself. I would take less offense to things that weren't worth taking offense to. Which would also mean I would feel the need to defend myself less often. Again, not typically on the list of things called "How to be more vulnerable," but a biggie for me. Getting over myself would mean that I could be more present. In the moment. Not worrying about who likes me or doesn't, or what happened yesterday or what will happen this afternoon. Getting over myself put me at ease with the now, and that is the most vulnerable place I know.

So enter Ash Wednesday. I hadn't quite figured out my Lenten fast. I sensed there was something I needed to do, but couldn't put my finger on it. That weekend, a friend told me she was giving up lying for Lent. And then it clicked for me: I had to give up being manipulative. It's a form of lying, for sure, but comes with some strings attached to my ever-encompassing need to be needed. Manipulating people and situations is essential for maintaining the world how I like it. But, when the spirit nudges, you better move. The manipulation had to be moved.

It was fun at first. I would catch myself in conversations with Jon, admit that I caught myself, and we would laugh. But it got harder. Ugh. It got harder. I had to think twice before I said almost anything. "What are my motives here?" I for sure wasn't perfect at keeping my fast this year, I admit. But consciously thinking through the ways I get what I want was eye-opening to say the least. Humbling to say the most.

Enter Easter Sunday. 40+ days of attempting to be vulnerable. Method of choice: fasting from manipulation. Just like the resurrection we celebrate on Easter is the culmination of what Jesus came to do, a conversation I had this Easter seemed to be the culmination of my Lenten fast. It was a hard conversation. One that would not have gone well a few years ago (or even 40 days ago). The other person had some hard things to say to me. I had some hard things to say back.

But it was beautiful. I didn't need to defend myself. I didn't need the other person's approval. I didn't need to manipulate. I felt free to apologize and accept forgiveness, and also to accept apologies and offer forgiveness.

It was beautiful.