Family photos are so important. We put them on our bookshelves, we hang them on our walls, and we are always thankful for those pictures after the fact. But when we are trying to coordinate everybody’s calendars so we can all get together, we might question whether it is worth it. That we spent weeks trying to find one day where all members of all the Martin family could be together. It felt like we were standing there, blindfolded, throwing a dart, just hoping to hit an open day. And we finally arrived at a day where we could all be together.
And we met that afternoon with the photographer hoping to capture the best light because the camera is honest and the best light can soften a smile or brighten the background and we took what felt like thousands of pictures. We inched to the left, we leaned to the right, following all the photographer’s instructions, and we thought we got a few good pictures that day.
So when they arrived, we were so excited. We thumbed through them all. We thought there were a handful that were worth putting in a frame, sitting up on a bookshelf or hanging on a wall. Later on as I was walking by those pictures, I noticed something. I stopped and I looked closely and it looked like there was something in my eye. I didn’t remember anything feeling off that day, but the camera is honest. I even took the picture out of the frame and sure enough there was a tiny speck in my eye.
And Lent is honest like the camera is honest. That if we look closely, we might discover a speck in our eye. And as small as it is, it can cause us to stumble, which I know is disheartening. But Lent also whispers to us that we are surrounded by enough love that we can actually learn from our mistakes.
In the book of Genesis, we read that story which we refer to as the fall. Adam and Eve are in the Garden of Eden and they can eat of any and every tree except the one in the middle, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And the serpent in its cunning invites them to test this warning. The serpent says, the fruit is good to eat. And not only that, you will also have the same knowledge as the Lord, knowing good and knowing evil.
So they accept this invitation and they test God’s warning and they discover that the warning is warranted. Their eyes are open. This was their first mistake. But the second might have been more detrimental, because no one could decide whose fault it was. Adam blamed Eve. Well, she gave me the fruit. Eve blamed the serpent. The serpent said it was good. The second mistake was ignoring the speck in their eyes, that we are unable to learn and grow when we shift blame and accuse others. And in the wake of the first mistake, we do well to avoid the second.
Initially, the words of the psalmist would have been unrecognizable to Adam and Eve. Happy are those whose transgressions are forgiven. Adam and Eve were not happy. They were scared, terrified, worried, ashamed. But if we can remember the love of God that always surrounds us, we might muster up enough strength to experience what the psalmist describes.
For it is a prayer of confession, where the psalmist says, I acknowledged my sin to you and I did not hide my iniquity, that in the wake of that kind of honesty, forgiveness leads to wisdom. And grace fosters hope that we discover that God is our refuge, what the psalmist calls a hiding place, and that we might overhear the glad cries of deliverance.
But it is hard to look at the speck in our eyes. It is much easier to notice that speck in others. We’re prone to look elsewhere. It’s like the story about the man who lost his keys. He went back to the last place when he had them and he’s down there on the sidewalk on his knees and his hands looking for his keys furiously under this bright street lamp when a police officer comes up and the officer asks, what are you looking for? Trying to be helpful. And the man says, I lost my keys. And the officer says, is this where you dropped them? And the man says, no, I dropped them in the alley, but the light is much better here.
It’s easier to look for the speck in other people’s eyes. It’s harder to look in our own, and I wish, I wish it was easier. So much so that at times we assume that it should be. Every now and then I’ll be driving through my neighborhood and I’ll look over at the sidewalk and I’ll see something walking their dog. And the dog’s on a leash, but there’s all this slack in the leash that the dog is walking right beside its owner. When they get to the crosswalk, the dog stops and sits down and waits for the owner to cross and I think to myself, why can’t my dog do that? When I walk Kinsley, it feels like Kinsley is walking me.
But we should never fool ourselves by looking at pictures on social media, or referring to superficial examples, thinking that everybody else’s life is easier than our own. The truth is, everyone stumbles. And if we are honest with ourselves and honest with God, we can avoid the second mistake. Because God’s love is a watchcare kind of love.
When I went off to college, I joined the First Baptist Church of that other college town. And it was the rare place in my life during that season when I was around people who were not my age. Everywhere else I went, I was surrounded by other college students and I joined that church by watchcare. Meaning, I kept my membership in the church where I grew up, but I was now also a member of that church while I was in college.
And I met all these wonderful people who did not know me from Adam. In the church where I grew up, I was always Milton and Kathy’s son. I had all these Sunday school teachers who loved me and ministers who supported me and ushers who welcomed me, but I was always somebody’s child, all of which was a gift. But when I joined the church in college, they didn’t know who my parents were and I was given a respect I had not earned.
Nobody checked my references at the door and they gave me opportunities to serve, giving me more responsibility than I had proven I could handle. That it is a kind of love without prerequisites. It is the kind of love which always surrounds us, no matter what, where we can be honest with God and honest with ourselves, learning from our mistakes.
Oftentimes, we don’t want to look at the speck in our eyes because we think practice makes perfect. Somewhere along the way, we pick that up and we carry it with us. And we think if we notice the speck in our eyes, it will ruin our picture of perfection.
We are not called to perfection. Perfection can actually limit us more than it can help us. Because practice does not and never will make perfect. Practice makes us grateful because we are met by the grace of God that continues to affirm us and lead us forward.
That practice makes us humble, that we will fall short, but not in a way that destroys us because of the love of God. It gives us humility and practice makes us hope, that we have this larger, more expansive vision for our lives. That practice makes us patient, that we learn to be patient with others and with ourselves.
And practice makes us joyful. We discover this deeper purpose in calling for our lives and practice makes us faithful. It does not make us perfect. It makes us faithful, which is different, that we simply give of ourselves out of the love that we have received.
And Lent is a season for practicing a life of faith. It is possible because of the steadfast love of God that always surrounds us. Amen