Lent is
kind of great--it starts with pancakes and ends with chocolate. Close to the
end there's a bit with a donkey and some tropical foliage. It's rad. If I were
Rodgers or Hammerstein, I'd probably rewrite My Favourite Things to include
these things of Lent. I freaking loved this season as a kid--before things got
serious.
And then
somewhere, the pancakes and donkeys lose their lustre, and Lent becomes about
physical self-denial than whimsy and indulgence. Life can't always be viewed
through the rose-coloured glasses of childhood. Jesus was tempted and tortured.
He did suffer, and die before Easter, at the very hands of those to whom he had
come to save.
Normally,
I'm one to press in to my pain. I might be a firm-ish believer in the old
"no pain, no gain" adage. I often enjoy a good spiritual
self-flagellation, when it brings me to an awareness of my own depravity, and
God's unbelievable grace, mercy, and love.
But not
this year. My life is too good this year. My circumstances are objectively
better than they ever have been, and I don't want to interrupt my happy little
bubble for a season of penitence. I feel emotionally, relationally, and
spiritually fulfilled in ways that I never could have imagined from the depths
of panic and depression which I know all too well. I still have a hard time
believing that God can really be as good as I have seen him to be recently. In
the back of my mind, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. How long can
things be good before they're ruined, either by a frail and fallen humanity, or
a God who doesn't really care as much as we'd hoped?
Of
course, the following passage comes to mind:
7 “Ask, and it will be
given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for
you. 8 For everyone who asks
receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the
door will be opened. 9 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks
for bread, will give a stone? 10 Or if the child asks for
a fish, will give a snake? 11 If you then, who are
evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your
Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" -Matt. 7:7-11
Recently,
my posture has generally been one which is closed to God's intervention. I
can't shake the idea that God's holding up another shoe--it's going to drop. I
don't want to know about it, or think about it, or imagine what it could look
like. Lent reminds us of a God who allows suffering--suffering of others, and
of himself. I want to believe that I've had my life's allotment of suffering.
I'd rather live my happily ever after, my way.
And yet,
I've tasted and seen God's goodness. My faith first came alive out of a place
of suffering, when I finally came to the end of my own resources, discovering
that they weren't as infinite as I'd thought. I don't know the answers. He
does. What looked the most awful in the Easter story only primed us for the
best thing ever.
As
unnatural as it feels, and as much as I don't want to, I'll keep pressing. The
one who knows my fears knows what I need.
