Free Wonderstruck by Margaret Feinberg

but I knew his farewell ushered in the celebration of the risen Christ.
    I couldn’t help but reflect on the way I had approached the forty days before Easter. I’d approached the season by asking, “What will I give up for Lent?” as if Lent’s whole focus is asceticism. But Lent’s concern isn’t in removing something as much as receiving Someone. The passion of Lent is Christ. The annual sojourn calls for a more focused relationship with God.
    Maybe instead of asking,
What are we giving up for Lent?
we need to ask,
Who and what are we trying to receive through Lent?
    As we accept this sacred solicitation with sincerity, God meets us open-armed with his goodness and grace. The transformative power of Christ awakens in our lives. The Lenten season invites us to set apart time during the beginning of each year to slough off the excess in our lives that we may live lighter and holier lives. For forty days, Lent gives us the opportunity to live in gentle receptivity of God.
    After Easter, I prayed without the three-word discipline for the first time since Lent began. I waited until the house was empty and peered around the living room as if about to break a rule. I offered up a greeting. “Dear God,” I whispered, “I know it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken like this.”
    I began slow. The words soon picked up pace—an uncultivated assortment of adoration and expiation, supplication and thanksgiving. Then I burst forth in prayer like a fire hydrant unplugged on a hot summer day. Conversation gushed forth from deep inside me like I was reconnecting with an old childhood friend. I felt like I was praying—
really
praying.
    When I said my final amen, I had to catch my breath. I realized why God had asked me to give up prayer for Lent: I’d been spiritually slumbering, my prayer life reduced to nothing more than sleepwalking. The Lenten season exposed all the “nonversations” in my prayer life—those moments with God where, with a litany of words, I said nothing at all. Though I spoke to God, I was half-awake at best.
    God used this discipline to awaken me to the wonder ofprayer. Deliberate, uninhibited, wholly present—I found my voice with God again. I never suspected I needed to lose my prayer life in order to find it again.
    From foundation to rooftop, my prayer life was undergoing major renovations, and I turned to the Scripture for a better understanding of the work God was doing in my life. I focused on the prayers of Jesus and found myself taken aback by their brevity and intentionality. Jesus said so much with so little:
    “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me.” 6
    “Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me; yet not what I will, but what You will.” 7
    “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” 8
    “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 9
    “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” 10
    I was awestruck that such simple phrases would move God to act. 11
    And I found comfort in knowing that I’m not the only Jesus follower who stumbles forward in prayer. The disciples search for steady footing and approach their Rabbi asking him how best to pray. Jesus encourages them to resist flashy, monotonous prayers whose only purpose is to try to win God’s favor, wear down God’s resolve, or appear spiritual to others. Jesus introduces prayer as the acknowledgment that God, our Abba Father,already knows everything and waits for us to call on him. God sits enthroned, ready to listen, to help.
    Jesus provides a specific prayer as a model. Rabbis of the day customarily gave their disciples prayers they could use habitually. Jesus’ response to his disciples, known as the Lord’s Prayer, is his most famous. The early church offered this prayer three times a day, following the ancient Jewish rhythm of