Lenten Laments

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I'm sure not many Christians read Leviticus to kick off their Lenten season but that's unfortunately where my Bible plan has plopped me, without much end in sight as I'm plowing straight through Numbers and Deuteronomy next; I haven't counted ahead (perhaps out of denial) but I'm sure I'll read something about not boiling a goat in its mother's milk on Easter Sunday and I'm just letting ya'll know right now I will not have the mental fortitude to write a resurrection spin on it.


Maybe that's what I'll tell people I'm giving up for Lent--a carefully-crafted reading plan.


I should do something to start gathering my scattered heart in preparation for Easter Sunday, but it doesn't help that this is easily my least favorite time of year. Winter hangs on aggressively (especially here up North) and spring only is able to squeeze out little hints of life as it wages war with the cold and also my sanity. How is one supposed to get in the spirit of new life when they have to wear their winter coat to the Easter Sunday service?


Maybe I'll give that up for Lent too: my hopes for a springy Easter which are inevitably always dashed.


Why does death do that? Why does it hang on so long, why does it make our souls cry out for relief, for justice, for restoration and push us to the utter breaking point before even one bud of hope? Perhaps, though I'm still confident in the Victor, I've underestimated the power and the perseverance of the Enemy; its determination to destroy will not easily surrender this war it's waged with my soul which is anything but determined in hope.


The bare branches shudder as sloshy grey snow refuses to melt and I've resigned to hermithood until the weather cooperates with my wishes; I draw the shades in the afternoon and drink more coffee than normal and wish I cared more about not giving up something for Lent.


But resurrection does not wait for my heart to change; that's why I needed it in the first place. To the resigned, the dwindling in hope, the hermits who've all but given up, Resurrection meets us as a Gardener with an offer to mulch our frozen soul soil and plant the seeds of abundant life where we thought only a miracle could grow.


A miracle like an empty tomb, a Gardener who saved Creation, a midwife to the entire world, laboring for resurrection.

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