Deanne Overstreet, our guest blogger, recounts a challenge that relates to the same issue she discussed in her meditation published for February 19 in The Upper Room:

This year, I’ve again been wondering what I can do in order to participate more fully in observing Lent.  What could I do that might promote a deeper spirituality, that might draw me into a closer relationship with Christ, that might help me confront and deal with my own weaknesses and faults, that would drive home in a new way my utter reliance upon God?  At the moment, the Holy Spirit seems to be suggesting that once again (as I wrote about in my meditation published for today) my Lenten discipline should have something to do with my big mouth. I really don’t like the prospect , but  . . .

A bit of background: A few years ago, a well-known evangelical pastor, in an effort to promote a better understanding of Christian marriage, challenged the married members of his church to engage in sexual intimacy every night for one week.  I found this challenge highly amusing. On Sunday afternoon, I told my husband, Tom, all about it.  “This guy must be dealing with a pretty young demographic,” I chuckled.  “If we tried this at our church, half the members would drop dead before the week was up.” 

My exceedingly patient husband sagely replied, “I wish Christians could go one week without complaining.”  His remark stung.  I stopped laughing because I knew myself to be one of the world’s worst whiners and gripers, often even joking that a British-style “stiff upper lip” definitely wasn’t for me.  I identified far more with Jeremiah, Job, and the psalmists who poured out their souls to God, bemoaning their unhappy condition than I did with St. Paul who encourages us to give thanks and to “Rejoice . . . always” (Phil. 4:4).  Without telling Tom or anyone else, I decided I’d try to go one week without complaining.  Three or four days into this “experiment,” Tom noticed.

“You haven’t complained about anything all week!” he said, laughing.

“Just wait ‘til two o’clock Sunday afternoon,” I replied.

When I look back on this episode, I do so with no little embarrassment.  What on earth did I ever have to complain about in the first place?  Our family was well and doing well, and I had my health.  Now, I’m struggling with a great deal of pain brought on by a bunch of repetitive motion injuries from running for 35+ years, two intractable tennis elbows, and seemingly nonstop neck and shoulder pain that makes it difficult to sleep.  I’ve had surgery three times and been forced to give up many things, such as serious gardening, that formerly brought me much joy.  I can’t seem to plan anything in advance because I never know how I’ll feel from one day to the next.  So what do I do?  I whine and moan, and I can probably put Jeremiah, Job, and the unhappy psalmists to shame when I “make my requests known to God,” invariably forgetting that part about doing so “with thanksgiving.” (See Philippians 4:6.)

Still, I know I certainly should be thankful.  Our family is blessed beyond measure; and compared to multitudes of people, I’m not dealing with anything really serious.  It just hurts.  I’m sure you’ve guessed what the Spirit may be telling me: “For the 40 days of Lent, stop complaining.  Focus on your blessings.  Do whatever good you can, and trust God for the grace you need each day.”

This will be a far more difficult undertaking than merely eschewing political discussion.  I think I’ll need at least a minor miracle.  However, one thing is certain: along with all other Christians, I will be rejoicing, not complaining, come Easter morning.

-- Deanna Overstreet