Kyknet Lent Guide 2022Sample

“As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” (Matthew 3:16-17)

One essential moment on our journey with God is waking up to who we truly are. Not knowing who we are, and Whose we are, has tragic consequences. On the one hand, when we are uncertain about our identity, the inferiority virus spreads throughout our lives. We think thoughts like, ‘I am no good’, ‘I can’t do anything right’, ‘I am of no use to anyone’, ‘I can’t accept myself’, and the list goes on. On the other hand, in our uncertainty about our identity, we can go to the other extreme. We climb lofty pedestals and manufacture glittering images of ourselves as successful, adequate, and always competent. Nothing scares us more than anyone seeing us behind this facade. We over-identify with our strengths, struggle to acknowledge any weakness, and believe that we can do all things.

In our quest for identity, the crucified and risen Lord meets us right where we are. In His humanity, He also needed to know who He was. Throughout His life, as we follow Him through the gospels, He needed a freshly confirmed sense of identity. In contrast to how we usually go finding our identity, Jesus listened to his Abba Father’s voice, trusted that voice, and claimed its truth for His life. As our verse for the week makes clear: He came to know that he was the Father’s beloved Son on whom the delight and the Spirit of God rested. The good news for us is that Jesus, the unique Beloved Son, also helps us discover who we truly are. Our hope this week, is that we will awaken to the good news He brings about our God-given identity.

WHO AM I?

by Deitrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me I bore the days of misfortune Equably, smilingly, proudly, like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat, Yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling? Or is something within me still like a beaten army Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!