Lenten reflections

A few months ago, during a conversation about a “difficult” colleague, my immediate superior remarked: “If I am not able to be a source of solace to such people in my team, then all my spirituality is in vain.” It was a wake-up-call; I had often been in the habit of judging this colleague, so this left me in shame. I realized how badly I had failed to be a true witness to my faith, at my workplace.

All of us are surrounded by difficult people, maybe in the form of a nagging spouse, an envious neighbor, an irritating colleague, or a domineering boss. In fact, Jesus dealt with difficult people on a daily basis, giving us the perfect example of compassion.

This Lent, let’s be thankful to God for all these difficult people in our lives. Instead of judging and avoiding them, let’s try to be like Jesus. Let’s do to them what Jesus would have done for them if He was in our place. And let’s not forget that it’s not the good people but the difficult people who purify us.

“But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” (Matthew 6:6)

Do you remember hearing these words as a child? They seemed simple enough—just go to your room, close the door, and pray. I remember hearing them and being confused. Simple words, yes, but it just didn’t make sense that we could only say prayers, in our room, by ourselves. But my child-like faith told me to believe these words.

As I grew, so did my faith and understanding of this Scripture. I came to realize these beautiful, profound words meant I could go into my room, turn my heart to the Lord, anytime, anywhere. My prayer life blossomed. How wonderful to spend quiet time with our Father and receive His love.

Every time I hear these words from Matthew’s Gospel, I appreciate the Lenten season even more. It’s a reminder of God’s love and how much He desires our friendship. Love heals. For me, that’s the reward when I go into my room and pray.

I’m not always successful at finishing what I start. Lent is one of my biggest, annual failures. I have many inexcusable excuses—I’m lazy, selfish, and forgetful. Ash Wednesday always begins the same—enthusiastically with the best of intentions. But very shortly into the season, I realize I’ve over-promised God. It’s not that I can’t live without coffee or chocolate, it’s that one small slip leads to another, and suddenly I’m telling myself I’ll just try harder next year.

The next year, however, often leads to giving up something I feel would be easy to replace or deny myself. Like the year I gave up soda pop, but substituted it with a carbonated alcoholic beverage so it would feel less like cheating.

It was this particular Lent that I realized I need to give God so much more, and I made the decision to also add to my Lenten journey. Adding for me meant reading about the suffering and death of Our Lord. Reading, in addition to self-deprivation, enriched my Lent tremendously. Keeping the suffering Our Lord willingly endured for our salvation at the forefront of my mind has made my Lenten seasons much more meaningful, and easier to pass up that chocolate bar.

Lent is a marvelous opportunity to deepen our lives of prayer, to temper our desire for food and drink, and to engage in the graced time of alms giving. Let’s use this season to get our way of living in order, to show our love and service in very concrete ways.

Prayer: Prayer is foundational to cultivating friendship with God. During Lent we’re asked to pray more intensely, to pick up our game in regard to prayer.

Fast: As Catholics, we don’t think that the natural desire for food, drink, and sex are bad things. So, why do we fast? Saying “no” to our natural desires empowers us to say “yes” to God, especially when we are dealing with temptation. Fasting enables us to concretely practice being God-centered.

Almsgiving: God is Love. When we give alms, we are engaging in self-giving generosity by addressing the needs of our brethren, especially those who are most in need.
So, as we begin our Lenten journey, let us resolve that at the end of Lent we don’t end up thinking to ourselves: “Gee, Lent came and went and I didn’t do too much. Nothing really changed in my life.”

This year, Ash Wednesday falls on February 14th—the day synonymous with roses, chocolates, and romance. However, it is important we recognise that Saint Valentine was not concerned so much with romantic love but true love.
True love is an act of self-sacrifice and self-surrender for the good of the other. This year we are reminded, in the most obvious of ways, that love is not love if it is selfish, and that the greatest love of all was shown on Calvary over two millennia ago.
This is a time to ask ourselves: am I loving others as I should? Is my love one of self-sacrifice, or one of self-interest? Am I daily laying down my life for my friends—loving them as Christ loves me?
Perhaps the seemingly unlikely pairing of Valentine’s day and Ash Wednesday is actually a masterful brushstroke—a Valentine’s gift that represents the greatest love as the only enduring love story. A true love which encourages us to follow in His footsteps, to love until it hurts, to empty ourselves and allow Christ’s light to fill us, to be willing to shoulder our crosses, and carry them not just in Lent, but every single day, in cheerful and loving obedience.