Some people may look forward to the arrival of Lent, but not being the most devout specimen of the human race, I don’t. Of course, once Lent (or as we Eastern Catholics sometimes call it, the Great Fast) arrives, I do my best to make it a good one.
But when the mid-way point of the Fast rolls around, I’m usually frustrated with myself at how I’m failing to keep to my Lenten regime. By the time it gets close to Holy Week, I actually get into the groove and starting realizing how indispensable this season is for my spiritual health—but by then it’s time to enter into Holy Week and prepare for Easter. And so I end up being ever so grateful for the Paschal Homily of St. John Chrysostom, which we read every Easter in the Byzantine Church.
It begins:
"If anyone has wearied himself in fasting, let him now receive his recompense.If anyone has labored from the first hour, let him today receive his just reward”
Unfortunately, in past years I’ve begun to appreciate even more the next part, where he speaks of those of us who have taken a while to really enter into the season. After enthusiastically welcoming those who have arrived at the third, sixth, or ninth hour, he continues:
"If anyone has arrived even at the eleventh hour, let them not fear on account of tardiness. For the Master is gracious and receives the last even as the first; He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour”
Despite my efforts, my plans never work out
When I was younger, I seemed to have more enthusiasm, determination, and drive, striving to live the Lenten season “to the max”! But what I’ve noticed over the years, is that, despite all of my efforts to do the things which I feel will be most beneficial (and often failing), the good Lord seems to have other ideas of what is really most helpful for my spiritual growth.
For some reason, various situations will come up that I didn’t ask for and would have preferred not to deal with at all. I don’t know about you, but for me and for others I know, Lent has been the time for difficult, unexpected trials to crop up, such as complications with work, health issues, challenges with family members, loss of a loved one, the sudden need to relocate, struggles within relationships—and break-ups—or even remaining quite single while watching your friends and relatives blissfully dating their significant other.
Sure, these things happen at all times of the year, but for some reason, in my experience, they’re especially concentrated during Lent. If God would just let me stick to my planned Lent, it would be much simpler—and easier!
This prayer helped me refocus
This Lent, as I was praying the Prayer of St. Ephrem (which is used daily among Eastern Catholics and Orthodox Christians during this season), I was struck by the very first line. There are various translations of the prayer, but the version I learned is this:
O Lord and Master of my life,keep from me the spirit of indifference and discouragement,
lust of power, and idle chatter. (prostration)
Instead, grant to me, your servant, the spirit of wholeness of being,
humble-mindedness, patience and love. (prostration)
O Lord and King, grant me the grace to be aware of my sins and not to judge my brother; for You are blessed, now and ever and forever. Amen. (prostration)
As you can see, it’s a rich prayer, full of many good points for self-examination—but for some reason it’s the first line that’s been repeating itself over and over in my mind. “O Lord and Master of my life”
He is my Lord—and I’ve given my life to Him. Can He not use it as He chooses for his glory? Is not one of the most difficult tasks of the Christian life to really live our lives accordingly, trusting in God’s providence, in his love, in his great mercy—and putting Him first every moment of the day?
He's the whole point...not me, not you
I was recently speaking to a priest about the perennial topic of suffering (and yes, I admit, the theme of singleness when I had other plans for my life was tied into it). The priest reminded me that the whole point of everything the Lord permits us to go through is so that we become conformed to the image of His Son, Jesus.
No, that doesn’t mean that God wants us to suffer. But rather, in his incredible goodness, He orchestrates it so that the suffering in this world that comes about through sin, selfishness, and the misuse of free will can actually bring us closer to the heart of Jesus and unite us to Him. Furthermore, by uniting our sufferings to his, our pain actually becomes redemptive too, giving it profound meaning!
The whole point of Lent is not to suffer as much as we can or to rack up brownie points because we successfully accomplished everything we thought would make us better people. Rather, it’s to learn how to peacefully take up life’s crosses that we didn’t choose, and to carry them joyfully in union with Our Lord, so that ultimately we have more room in our hearts for his incredible love that we witness during Holy Week—his Passion, Death, and Resurrection.
Then, both on Easter and in eternity we can rejoice because, as St. John Chrysostom says:
O death, where is thy sting?O Hades, where is thy victory?
Christ is risen, and you are overthrown!
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