I’m not talking about the book of the Old Testament in my post’s title today.

However, I would have to say it’s not my favourite. (Growing up, that title was held by Esther. Nowadays, no idea.)

But I genuinely mean that numbers i.e. integers are not my thing.

I was reminded of this a couple of days ago when I started thinking about how long there was until Easter and therefore how many more days of Lent there were yet to come.

I then realised that my post count had something weird going on with it:

Isn’t Lent 40 days? But Easter is more days away than my count suggests. [she quickly consults Google]

Ah, yes. Sunday.

You’re not supposed to include that in the Lent count.

Maybe it’s not just numbers that aren’t my thing. Maybe my memory is fading also. The grey matter is more worn than it should be at my age.

Or else I just need help with basic Maths (and a few other things).

Even though my posts don’t reflect it, the season of Lent is actually about rhythms of grace. We don’t have to strive all the time. We don’t have to always be hurting ourselves and abstaining from the joys of life. On Sunday, we’re supposed to take a break.

We can seek joy, love and goodness. God wants us to live a life full of his good gifts:

Sing the praises of the Lord, you his faithful people; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favour lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. When I felt secure, I said, “I will never be shaken.”

God doesn’t expect us to be beating ourselves up – or fasting – all our lives. God longs for us to take him seriously but to also know how much he cares.

I’ve always loved William Cowper’s hymn, God moves in a Mysterious Way. I recall studying him at university and learning about how profoundly he experienced depression: to the point of insanity. I think knowing that about him, makes the lyrics of the second verse of the hymn even more beautiful:

Oh, fearful saints, new courage take:
The clouds that you now dread
Are big with mercy and will break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace.
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

Such beautiful expression. The metaphors. The imagery. From a man who knew such mental anguish comes such well-crafted and expressive words.

Dark clouds that ominously hover and then break forth, literally raining down from heaven… blessings. Overwhelming blessings. Too many to count.

Well, especially if you’re me. I have trouble with numbers up to 40.

I’m sure God has more blessings than that in store for his people.

So enjoy the rhythms of grace on Sunday during Lent (and maybe some other days). Even if God’s ways and grace seem mysterious.  And perhaps listen to the song below.

Yours numerically challenged,

Alison

God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform.
He plants his footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in the dark and hidden mines,
With never-failing skill,
He fashions all his bright designs
And works his sov’reign will.

Refrain:
So God we trust in you.
O God, we trust in you.
When tears are great and comforts few,
We hope in mercies ever new,
We trust in you.

Oh, fearful saints, new courage take:
The clouds that you now dread
Are big with mercy and will break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace.
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

God’s purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour.
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan his work in vain.
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.