Matthew 6:1-6; 16-21
HOSPE’S MUSIC IN OMAHA
When I was in high school, I had the greatest job. I worked in Hospe’s Mr. Music in downtown Omaha in building that was over 100 years old—a 7-story brick structure with a huge basement warehouse. My job involved all kinds of things, but over the summers we spent most of our time in the basement processing all the school district’s rental band and orchestra instruments. Rooms-full of trumpets, violins, saxophones, trombones, cellos, oboes, clarinets and more. It took a good part of the summer to get all of those instruments cleaned and ready for September rentals. But one year, something really cool happened. I moved an old bookcase that had tools and empty instrument cases piled onto it, and found a door behind the bookcase! It was summer, and supervision was nearly nil, so me and a co-worker friend decided to break through. The old door wasn’t locked, but it was nearly impossible to open. We took a crowbar and were able to get it open. What we found was an abandoned warehouse—a large room of stuff no one even knew was there! The lights were out so our first task was putting in a few new bulbs. Luckily, the electricity was intact. There was more stuff in that large room than we ever would have imagined! Old desks and dozens of old chairs, all covered with dust, and a veritable junk yard of things that we would spend the rest of the summer inventorying—boxes and boxes and boxes of musical knick knacks, repair projects, ancient party decorations, decades’ old softball uniforms. Such an adventure!. It was a room even the owners seemed to have forgotten. Every day, I went back to work dreaming about what I might find. The owners let me take a bunch of stuff home—an old saxophone, a couple broken guitar amplifiers, a reel-to-reel recorder from the 50s—it was a thrill. I mention this today because that old basement warehouse has ever since been a kind of metaphor for my soul. There are things I know about myself—even some things I keep down in the basement and rarely access—but I always wonder if there is another room, another door hidden down there behind a neglected bookcase, and if I can find it and get the door open, be rewarded by the treasures found there. Maybe, like Hospe’s music, I have closed off doors and forgotten some old things—maybe even on purpose. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I meant to fix but didnt’ or couldn’t.
Self-awareness is like the owners of that building. They had a warehouse of stuff down in the basement they didn’t even know was there. They were richer than they imagined. These next 40 days are all about increasing our self-awareness—about going down into the basement and having a good look inside our souls. There may be stuff down there that we don’t want to deal with—broken things we’ve stuffed into old closets—maybe even a whole warehouse that we’ve sealed away behind a bookcase.
Sin is a universal aspect of being human. We all have sins, but we may not all be honest about them. We may be much better at seeing the sins of others than our own. We may prefer picking the specks out of others’ eyes rather than dealing with our own abandoned basement warehouse.
Lent is the time of year we dedicate to taking inventory of our soul’s basements. For every rotten thing we find, we have a choice: We can hide it away in an even deeper and darker corner, We can just ignore it and pretend we don’t see it, or we can deal with it.
Like an old saxophone or an old guitar amplifier: maybe it can be fixed with some work and care, or maybe it needs to be thrown in the dumpster for good.
But I’m saying that Lent is about responsibility. We go down into that basement intending to find and unburden ourselves of the junk. That old, lost warehouse needs to be cleaned out, inventoried, scrubbed, painted and have the lights turned on.
How much better it feels NOT to be hiding stuff away, not to be walking around on the 7th floor upstairs constantly mindful that there is junk corruption in the basement that needs to be dealt with that you really don’t want to deal with. Lent is time for spring cleaning, and we go into that basement with wonder and energy, because we belong to Christ, and we know that there is nothing down there that can destroy us.
WE confess because we are forgiven. We confess because we are beyond condemnation. We confess because that building—with all its basement secrets—belongs to Christ and we are eager to hand it over to Him in better shape.
The end result of repentance and confession is not to make ourselves feel like “I’m much less of a sinner” but rather “I’m far more aware of my complicity in sin and far less likely to avoid responsibility”
Our work, this Lent, is a gift we offer to God. We labor to turn over to Him a clean basement—one cleared of clutter and corruption.
He works beside us in every hour. He discovers these rooms with us—in fact, His Spirit reveals them. He opens the doors we cannot open ourselves. He provides the new light bulbs and the white paint for the walls. He even delights in toting the biggest and heaviest items out to the dumpster. All we have to do is surrender each item and every room to Him.
Imagine what it would feel like to know that the basement was clean. To know that you can walk down there anytime you like and find clean, bright, well-ordered rooms.
And even then, there are doors to be discovered. When we open them, we find treasures from heaven supplied to us by our Lord—extra warehouses of good things, and two more basements that we didn’t know were there, only these are clean and filled with good things by which he equips and enriches us.
I love Lent. Who knows what we may find? Brothers and sisters, let’s go about our exploration with gladness, free from fear or anxiety, for God loves us. He’s on our side. He wants us to be free of old burdens and filled with good things. Let’s make Lent 2021 a great adventure, and may we meet Easter with greater Joy than we ever would have imagined!
†