From Laetare Sunday 2014

This is a pre-conversion piece, from my diary circa April 2014.

So, lately, in case you hadn't noticed, life's been a bit rough for me. This tends to coincide with Lent, being the time of year in which Catholics give up something to draw them closer to God or take up something that will draw them closer to God. The traditional 40 days of Lent do not include Sundays - being the Sabbath and all - and are a time of penance. It is meant to be sacrificial and mildly painful as such. It can be thought of as weeding the garden of the heart to make it more perfect. In ways, this prepares the devout Catholic for purgatory, in which the soul is purged of all imperfections. Catholics see this as turning their hearts away from sin and back to God.

For me, this time hasn't so much been about turning away from sin as about getting to know the God I've always professed but never known.

Lent started with a depressing convention and little to no prospects for the future. Job apps piled up on the desk, and I waited for messages that never came. I had originally given up sarcasm, desserts, and chocolate for Lent. I knew what I should have given up, but I didn't want to... I still wanted some form of control over a dark, hopeless life with no decent prospects for the future. Three funerals and a lay-off later, I was no closer to relinquishing control than I was the day I got marked with ashes on my forehead.

Then Laetare Sunday happened, and then I learned some things.

Many Protestants partake in Lenten fasts under two assumptions: Forty days means every day from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday (wrong) and if you break your fast, there are no do-overs. Catholics partake in a mid-point celebration called Laetare Sunday. Laetare comes from the Latin word, "rejoice" and is basically a, "whoo-hoo, we made it!"/"aw, better try again!" The interesting bit is that it takes 25 consecutive days for the neural pathways to calcify and a new habit is confirmed. Between Laetare Sunday and Easter, there are 25 consecutive days. So, if a Catholic screwed up before, they can start over mid-way and go again. The new habits are firmly established in their minds, and the old ones are firmly done away with.

Laetare Sunday, I heard the words I knew, since basically forever, would be coming.

So I had a definite reason to stop. Stop all the things I normally did for anyone, but also the things I went to extremes to do. Stop smiling and saying everything was okay when it wasn't. Stop hoping that the texts would be sweeter and the attention would be real. Stop all the lies I kept rationalizing in my head to excuse his behavior and how he treated me. Stop dreaming about how it would all make sense. Stop justifying not giving this up and over to God...

...And I had a renewed 25 days to put intentional space between myself and what I should have given up for Lent all along.

It's never happened... I should've stopped hoping and dreaming a long time ago... It's never going to happen for me... I don't know why I expected this time to be any different... But it was different in a couple of good ways. Instead of choking back sobs and not crying about it, I went to my room and I bawled. I mean, step aside, oh ye dumped Bella Swan of New Moon. You know nothing of what it means to weep and gnash teeth. Breaking up with my first love didn't produce the kind of sobbing I poured out in those twenty minutes. Ten years of rejection, hopelessness, and anger just gushed out in a torrent, like a hurricane of heartache from my pained and troubled soul.

I felt abandoned. I felt destitute. I felt alone and utterly lost in a wilderness. I felt hopeless. And, yeah, let's not forget confusion. I felt so confused. Details aside, I had trusted and prayed for God's guidance, and almost all indicators said yes... But that one. That one I refused to back down on with so many guys before, that one standard I was willing to lower to catch this dream, and...

"Dear God, I don't know if You're listening, I don't know if You even care, but I'm alone, I'm lost, I'm scared, and I am so, so very hurt, Lord..."

So, half an hour after my heart had been irrevocably broken, I was actually praying for God to carry me.

Two days later, I crashed and burned. I raged on the inside. I was angry. I felt abandoned. If I heard Audrey Assad's "Lead Me On," one more time, I swore I was going to stab the audio device with a screwdriver and chuck it out the nearest window...

But God.

And it was over.

That's kind of the point of Lent. When a real sacrifice is made, it's not about just struggling through until it's over. Sacrifice means giving something up and not knowing if it'll come back. Sacrificing our lives to God means it's all out of our hands, all of it, every minute of it. We don't have any guarantees that it'll get better, because we can't control anything. God (quite cleverly) never said He'd give us all good things in this life. He only said He'd give us what we need - justice, hope, peace, patience... Things that we need if this life is going to be at all enjoyable. Sacrifice isn't about just giving up something to get something else. Sacrifice is giving something up, not knowing the outcome. Sacrifice is Abraham getting ready to slay Isaac, the firstborn son of promise, oblivious to the ram in the bush over there...

So, lame as this sounds, I wonder if this is how Jesus felt during His last 40 days... Knowing that He was going to die... Did He know that He was going to come back? Did He know what awaited him beyond the grave? Did He know what kind of pain it was going to be like? I mean, we all say God knows everything, and Jesus, being God, should have known... But did He?

Abraham and Sarah didn't know what was coming when they decided to obey God and sacrifice Isaac. Ruth didn't know that Boaz wouldn't reject her. Esther didn't know that her husband wouldn't kill her. Abigail didn't know that her husband wouldn't beat her for offering hospitality to King David. Rahab didn't know that the guards wouldn't find the spies on her roof. Mary didn't know what was happening when she watched Jesus get nailed to the cross. Neither did the disciples. No one knows for sure what happens when sacrifice is made...

...But sacrifice does bring one closer to God.

I guess it's just a mystery that'll have to go unsolved. No amount of intellectual knowledge will ever change that. But, on the bright side, this is Lent, right? There is an end to it all. It's called Easter. It's the day that changed everything. Things will get better... Not in my time, but in the time of the One Who calls all time soon.

This Lent has changed my life and brought me closer to God. I've always said I learned best when I walk in another's shoes - that's why I stuck with Messianic Judaism for so long. But now, traveling the path God laid out for me, I feel closer to Christ, having shared in a small part with His suffering. That's one thing I know I'm taking away from this. For another thing, Easter will mark the end of my journey through RCIA and my studies of the Catholic faith. There's clearly another blog in the works on that, but at least for now, I know that I've seen and learned some amazing things...

...And I know there's no way any other Lenten season can be nearly as awful as much as this one. Next year has GOT to be better.

...just in case anyone is wondering, thus far, IT HAS... Thanks for reading! I hope this blesses someone's life.