Pope Francis writes in his Lenten message, found here:
“During this liturgical season, the Lord takes us with him to a place apart. While our ordinary commitments compel us to remain in our usual places and our often repetitive and sometimes boring routines, during Lent we are invited to ascend “a high mountain” in the company of Jesus and to live a particular experience of spiritual discipline – ascesis – as God’s holy people.”
This struck me deeply tonight, as I sat down to reflect and write, in the 11th hour, as a treacherous sounding mix of freezing rain and snow crackles against my window panes. I have no strength left for an ascent. All my earlier in the day musings and grasping for the right journeying metaphor for this year’s Lent felt disingenuous. I’m not going anywhere, not in this still recovering body and not with this resting yet still weary heart. Yet, I knew there was a need to begin, a sort of journey of sitting still, of rest. To go into the desert to rest.
Jeses calls to us in scripture, Matthew 11:28-30 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Rest. As I feel out of practice and self-conscious, as if by stopping the flurry of activity I will be clearly seen and found wanting. No, our Lord sees me more clearly and perfectly than I can understand and He calls me to rest. To go with Him to the desert…
and stretch out my arms a feel the warm sun on my face…
to feel the cool breeze as night falls and tilt my head back to look at the stars…
to listen to the small, stirring sounds of the hidden life in this place…
to sit with Him in stillness and appreciate that He asks only that I ‘be still’ and ‘know Him’ for this moment
…even as the rain freezes on my window panes encasing me in winter.
There will be reflection, penance, heartache and healing in the weeks ahead as Christ unfolds a journey of intimacy with Him. But for this weary heart, one day is enough to begin.
So it is with great relief that I hear Pope Francis acknowledge that we “remain in our usual places and our often repetitive and sometimes boring routines”. I’m struggling to be still in the humdrum of routine, that the longing and unsettled part of my heart wants to break away from, while knowing that peace comes in being open to meet the Lord here. I can see a 100 things in my circumstance I would like to change, to heal, to set right, to try to pray away or …if I’m honest, to run from. Yet, my heart tells me to invite the Lord in to this place instead.
Stillness can be a challenging discipline to master. Stillness is what I am learning much about as I come up against my limitations. There have always been the day-to-day limitations of not enough time, not enough energy, etc. but this past year I have gained some new physical limitations as well. I’m trying in earnest to embrace them as gift. Now the invitation is to embrace stillness as a gift. And yet, strange and foreign to me like a desert.
In this stillness, my Companion is gentle and humble-hearted as I wrestle with my discomfort at being here. No need to rush ahead…we’ve got time here. Be still. This year’s desert isn’t far away or a long journey. Instead it’s one of going deep in to my heart. As before, I invite you along.
ShunNotTheStruggle 