Lent: Flinging My Cloak Before the King

And as he rode along, they spread their cloaks on the road. As he approached the road leading down from the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of his disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works they had seen: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Luke 19:36-38, NET

I’ve always been a flinger. For the first three decades of my life, I rarely spread anything before the Lord. Spread sounds so calm. So careful.

I tend instead to fling my cares before Him, cast my cries up to heaven, throw myself at His feet. Sometimes I come dancing and shouting. That’s how we are, my Lord and I. He isn’t alarmed by my passion, my desperation, my excitement, my jubilation. My fear.

He rides on every time, straight into my heart, my situation, my circumstances, my need. And He is my King.

Whether you fling, toss, or reverently spread your cloak before Him, Lent is a perfect time to practice.

Lent is an exercise of intention. Fractious flingers learn to be still. Bashful onlookers learn to draw near. Preoccupied pilgrims stop on the side of life’s busy highway and peer intensely at the coming King. 

And when you see Him up close like that, the cloaks once flung so desperately become a pathway to worship.

Lent: An annual fast of forty days, beginning with Ash Wednesday and continuing till Easter, observed from very early times in the Christian church, in commemoration of Christ’s forty days’ fast (Mat. iv. 2), and as a season of special penitence and preparation for the Easter feast. (The Century Dictionary)

I had no idea what Lent was as a child. We did not discuss or practice it in our denomination. But boy, did we celebrate Easter.

My early introduction to the Easter season was a small country church where little girls like me wore new dresses, hats, gloves, and white patent leather shoes. We awoke to Easter baskets left by the Easter bunny, overflowing with chocolate and jelly beans. After church, we would race around the churchyard searching for brightly colored plastic eggs. 

Jesus was the Reason for the season, and He had risen, indeed. But if I’m honest, I looked forward to jellybeans most of all.

As I grew older, I suppose I heard about Lent somewhere. But the first clear memory I have happened when I was fresh out of college and working at my first real job. My employer, an elegant woman whom I longed desperately to emulate, arrived at the office for our early morning meeting with a black smudge on her forehead. At the first opportunity, worried for her embarrassment, I leaned close and whispered, 

‘Miriam, you have something on your forehead.”

To make it clear, I motioned discreetly to my forehead, a look of concern wrinkling my brow as I generously sought to save face for my esteemed boss.

“It’s Ash Wednesday. I stopped by the church on my way to work this morning because I knew what a busy day I will have and might not make it later.” 

She explained with a twinkle in her Catholic eyes. Now I was the embarrassed one.

One year later, my husband and I sold all our belongings and with two trunks moved to Africa to live with a people group who worshiped their dead ancestors and beat drums late into the pitch dark nights. Few had heard of Jesus, nevertheless Lent.

But it was in that unlikely place that Lent became real and essential to me. 

In our remote African village, church looked different than anything I’d ever encountered at home. For the first year, we did not even have a building. We worshipped outside under a thatched shelter or baobab tree. There was no piano, but instead, we beat homemade drums and sang simple songs in sweet harmony.

The Bible was not yet translated into the local language, so the Word was declared by the pastor and preserved in the hearts of the people where it would be repeated and retold again and again.

Worshipping in a different language wasn’t easy either. 

I was hungry to feed my own soul, so I began seeking resources to sustain myself. The rich and timeless writings of disciples like Thomas À Kempis, Amy Carmichael, Brother Lawrence, and Samuel Rutherford nourished my soul and I formed new disciplines. 

The idea of anticipating the Resurrection of Christ every year with intentionality, fasting, and spiritual reflection was greatly appealing. Each year, I asked God what I needed to let go. Which cloak in my life to fling.

Busyness was the first to go.

I had gone from a land of frenzied productivity to a place where gentle people accomplished the same necessary work day after day and rested in the evening with satisfaction. 

Clicking their tongues with disapproval, they dubbed us wazungu, which literally means people who spin round and round. My village mother just could not understand what I had to do which kept me so busy.

It took me a while to stop spinning and sit still with my neighbors. 

But eventually, I flung that cloak down and Jesus came closer. He was carrying a cup of sweet, milky chai, and the hearts of my friends, clamoring to hear more about Him.

Living in a mud house has a way of removing the cloak of materialism. 

With my one china teacup, I drank a strong, hot cup of tea each morning before the village awoke and praised God for the simplicity of life among these poor subsistence farmers. I marveled at how possible it was to live without electricity, running water, or a bathtub.

Today I live in a land of luxury and plenty, where even when the stores close due to Covid19 precautions I can order what I want and have it delivered to my front door the next day. I live in a house that boasts two ovens and 3 bathtubs. I have cupboards full of teacups and teapots. I am right back to spinning again most days, collecting more things. Maybe it’s time to throw that cloak down once more.

Every Lenten season I find myself returning to the same simple principles. I ask God what His chosen fast is for me. What cloaks need to be laid down.

Lay down busyness and throw it before the coming King. Take off the cloak of materialism and spread it before Him. Jesus is coming, and that is all that matters. What we produce, how much we accomplish, how fast we do it, to get all those things we want, won’t matter one bit when we see the King up close. He is stunning. He is all-encompassing. His gaze is piercing, right to our very hearts.

Lent has a way of spilling over into the rest of the year. Slowing us down, simplifying our lives. #Lent eventually becomes a lifestyle for those who embrace it. #simplify Click To Tweet

Whether you are a beginner or an ash-smudge-bearing Lent expert, this season offers the opportunity to reset your mind and spirit. Your nearness to the coming King. Hosanna! Let’s fling our cloaks down today.

Lord, show me what to lay down before You this Lenten season. Amen.

@audreycfrank