Lent

I am coming to realize that Lent means a great deal more to me than purple vestments and less food. I've realized that, over the years, Lent has become a time of reflection on my life, a time for paring down, de-cluttering. I am quieter. As time goes on, I know I'll become more despondent and lifeless: the liturgical rhythms of the Church have always been deeply intertwined with my life.

When Lent first begins -- from Ash Wednesday through the first week -- I cry a lot, especially during services and the time immediately afterward. I feel so intensely wretched. In the past few years, I have thought incessantly of the promise I broke to God, that which I have done that can never be undone, and which I sometimes wonder is forgivable. How can you turn back the clock? While I follow Jesus on his journey toward his ultimate testing and sacrifice, I am painfully aware that I failed my own testing, and did not accept the sacrifice I was called to make. How, when I have been such a spectacular deserter, can I even call myself a Christian?

Alongside this, I am beset by terrible temptation throughout the season. But it is a temptation that is not something I desire, making it difficult to explain. It is a sudden and constant stream of thought placed in front of me,like the whispering of the devil in my ear. He tells me that I should die, that I deserve to die, because I have abandoned God. He suggests ways to do it that I could never imagine. It is an urging that exploits his knowledge of the death God demanded of me that I refused to risk, to give. The voice, the thoughts, are wearying and ceaseless. The danger is that I will begin to believe it, or that I will give in just to make him stop, just so I can sleep. I can usually make it through on the strength of prayer, but it is a fragile protection because I have never succeeded in overcoming or banishing the voice, only in withstanding it. I am constantly afraid that if I relax my vigilance I will not be strong enough and will die apart from God.

There have been times, over the years, when I have attempted to gather the courage to tell someone exactly what I have done that is so bad (usually a clergy-person), but there has never been a moment where I managed it. It is difficult for me to admit, let alone discuss. I don't know whether that would ease my struggle or not, but at least I might be absolved, or find out if it's absolvable.

Lent is a difficult time for me because I have discovered that trying to reach out can result in loss. I have lost many friends during Lents past. I keep expecting that maybe I'll run into love instead, but that's never happened, only withdrawal.

So, this is Lent. Forty days in the desert: I can understand it when you put it like that. When I perform the devotions of the stations of the Cross, and I feel the pain of Christ's wounds, I can begin to appreciate it. And, if I knew for certain that this was a sharing in the suffering of Christ and not -- or as well as -- the result of my own feelings of guilt and my temptations, then that would be enough.