The following is adapted from my book, Emptied Out: A Personal Journey Through Lent. It is reprinted here with permission.

If you’ve never heard the haunting melody of a Native American flute echoing through a canyon pass or floating on the breeze, you’ve missed something special. I was first introduced to Native American flutes in high school when I attended the Brevard Music Center in Western North Carolina. From the moment I played one in the that little music in downtown Brevard, I was hooked. In the subsequent years, I have collected a number of flutes and have gotten much joy in the sweet melodies it produces.

Not too long ago, a friend of mine posted online: “What’s the difference between a flute and a stick in the mud? The stick in the mud is full of itself. The flute has been emptied so that it can make music.”

Lent, the season of 40 days leading up to Easter, is a time of preparation and repentance. The traditional practices of Lent include fasting (going without something), prayer, and giving alms. The idea is that we make room in our lives by taking things away (food, television, a hobby, etc.) so that we can make more room in our lives for spiritual attentiveness. We do so to free up our resources so that we can make them available to God (such as giving up our daily Starbucks and giving the money saved to a charity).

Lent is also a time of emptying ourselves — removing the obstacles that keep God’s Spirit from flowing freely through our lives. It is a time to let the music of the Great Composer echo through the halls of our heart. It is a time to place our lives as instruments into the capable hands of God to move and sway in the rhythm of grace. It is a time to be emptied of self and filled with the music of all creation.

With John the Baptist, Lent is a time for us to recognize that “[Jesus] must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). I need this time and this regular yearly rhythm to reorient my life and get my priorities back in order. It is so easy to feel self-important, to be the center of my own little universe, and to believe that everything should revolve around me and my desires. Like John, I need to learn to play second fiddle in this orchestra. Like John, I need to be reminded that I don’t get top billing on this play. Like John, I need to wake up to the fact that I am not a soloist but a chorus member in God’s song of creation.

As you begin your Lenten journey, may you awaken to the call of God in your life. May you be hollowed out that the wind of God’s Spirit may make beautiful music as it blows through the instrument that is your life.

You can purchase the entire book on Amazon.