Still I Rise

By Stephanie Evelyn McKellar

So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore; and they took him and threw him into a pit.
Genesis 37:23, 24

I rouse to the melody of my alarm, and before my eyes can blink open and fully take in the light, my stomach tightens into knots. My dog Scout stirs, licks my hand, but she doesn’t yet rise. She patiently waits, gently nudges, and continues to snuggle. Each morning, we rise and greet the day, body, mind, spirit, and puppy snuggles. 

Thank goodness for her patience. Each morning is a new adventure, some the delightful kind, others the trudging kind. Each morning, self-care and wholeness invites, and the light beckons: awaken the body, awaken the spirit, awaken the sense of self to the deeper nudges of Spirit and callings of God in my life. Sometimes the spiritual journey feels like peeling an onion, each layer reveals there's still more to pull back and uncover.

Waking up can be a daunting task, especially if you can relate to the metaphor of Joseph’s experience of being stripped and cast into a pit. Rising again, arriving to this daily pilgrimage, what awaits us on the road ahead? It is uncertain. Joseph’s story goes from feeling on top of the world, to alone and on a path he didn’t choose and couldn’t control. Sometimes life can kick us in the gut. Joseph came to his brothers, and while he hadn’t exactly been a delightful presence to be around, I imagine Joseph wasn’t expecting to feel betrayed, stripped of his clothing and pride, and cast into a deep, dark, buried place. 

Lent serves as a time of remembering Jesus’s footsteps in the wilderness, and a time of greater mindfulness into what ensnares us, derails us, and distracts us. Lent, a season of wilderness, release, and discipline; a time when we give something up, or take something on, aiming to establish a new boundary within ourselves through the medium of an external boundary. As this year’s Lenten season begins, do you find yourself like Jesus, having chosen your wilderness? Or more like Joseph, finding the wilderness claiming you, a path you didn’t plan for or choose for yourself? 

The journey in the wilderness will test us, strip us, and change us. Along the way, in the mystery and mire, Jesus, Joseph, and other pilgrims remind us that we will discover new depths to ourselves. In routine and rhythm, in ritual and reflection, our steps through darkness, wilderness, and uncertainty will lead us to new senses of self, connections to Spirit, and encounters with God. Nurturing who God intended us to be will call us to our depths; emergence will require we establish new boundaries within and external to ourselves. It will take time.  

Each morning, I continue to rise, ritual and rhythms steady my weary and anxious heart. As Lent begins, I feel a sense of groundedness, trusting the wisdom of the season and the God within it. Each day Scout and I begin with a walk, slow and steady, invited by the abundance of this world around us to trust the journey, one step at a time.