Second Sunday of Lent: Sundays are Feast Days

We had the chance to visit with a good friend this week. He has a picture of Mary and Eve hanging on the wall of his office that makes me cry when I look at it; he will let Ellie chase him all around his library, and he won’t even tell her to be quiet; and he will shift the movable bookshelves a zillion times and push imaginary buttons on a cinderblock wall because a 2 year old told him to.

Between conversations about running a library and the book of Matthew, it somehow comes up that we’re not watching TV during Lent.

“Well, you know… Sundays are Feast Days,” he says.

There is a lot I don’t know about Lent.

I’ve tried learning a little bit more about it this time around, and I’ve uncovered a few interesting tidbits, which I’m sure are old news to a lot of people. But to this low-church girl, it’s new stuff.

Sundays are Feast Days.

Right there, right smack in the middle of the fasting and the waiting and the mourning, there is feasting. Even before Easter comes. We feast.

This morning was busy. I was singing on the worship team, David was teaching Sunday School, we had a meeting after church, and we were trying to get grocery shopping done before nap.

I lift my toddler from the shopping cart and her face is upturned to the sky, chubby hand extended above her head. “I can reach the skyyy!”

And we stand there for a few extra minutes, next to our dirty car, in the middle of the day. And it doesn’t matter that nap time is coming, or that I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time in months, or that we have somewhere to be tonight. Our arms are up, and my voice joins hers. We’re trying to reach the sky.

Sundays are Feast Days.

On the ride home, I’m quiet. I listen to her chattering in the backseat “and then he, and then she, and so…and so… and he was like…” she’s telling a story.

My husband’s in the living room. He’s just asked if I’d like to watch a TV show with him. He smiles at me, “Sundays are Feast Days.” And I can hear the wink in his voice.

And I stand in the kitchen and I contemplate. And this is a big dilemma for me. For one who clings to rules and not to grace. Because it feels like a cop-out. To “take Sundays off.” And it’s almost as if a quiet voice invites me to live into the reality of the already and not yet. It’s already Easter, but it’s still not Easter. His kingdom is here, but his kingdom is coming.

She’s standing next to me on a stool, and we’re pouring the batter.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

I throw blueberries at the pancakes bubbling around the edges in the skillet. “That’s silly momma.” Thank you for this girl, thank you for sweet, round blueberries, thank you for fun. 

Sundays are Feast Days. 

I’m planting kisses on the chubby cheek of my just-turned-5-months-old baby. And she’s laughing. Her mouth is wide open and smiling. Thank you for grace, thank you for family, thank you for children.

Sundays are Feast Days. 

I look up that picture of Mary and Eve. Because it’s still in my mind, and I want to be reminded of the deep beauty of it. The already-but-not-yet-ness of it feels so applicable. thank you for Jesus, thank you for living, thank you for dying, thank you for rising. 

Sundays are Feast Days.

Now that I’m finished writing, I’m going to go watch the last two episodes of Parks and Recreation. And it’s maybe the most meaningful TV watching I’ve ever done. Thank you for Easter, thank you for freedom, thank you for redemption. 

Sundays are Feast Days. 

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2 thoughts on “Second Sunday of Lent: Sundays are Feast Days

  1. Yes, feast days 🙂 One of the things our whole family fasts from during lent is sweets. I love preparing the table on Saturday night and waking early Sunday morning to make a sweet breakfast on feast days during lent. It provides a nice reminder that we live on the other side of the cross. We speak of those things as we all indulge. The fresh baked cinnamon rolls or the syrup drenched pancakes have a richness about them on feast days. They are a tangible reminder of grace given and the already. Praise the Lord!!

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