Staring me in the face

It always amazes me how Lent does what no other time of year can do: Get one to be stared in the face by one's sin.

And I'm not talking about the point in the Liturgy where it's said in community, "I believe, O Lord, and I confess that Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God; Who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.." right before the priest comes forward with Communion in the East, or "Lord, I am not worthy for you to enter under my roof. But speak the word only, and my soul shall be saved" right before we approach the Communion rail in the West.

I'm talking about the moments, hours, days or even weeks where all of one's shortcomings are brought front and center for me to not just sit and stare at as is so easy other times of the year but rather to have them completely forced onto me. Whether as a tactic by the enemy to get to me fall into despair or to honestly face (for once, even) how sick and fallen i truly am. To wrestle with them seeking God's grace and mercy the entire time, or even to wrestle with them under my own power and deal with the consequences afterwards (which is never pretty). To even look for the lesson that is for me to learn in the midst of that battle.

There have been two recurring themes that I've noticed this particular Lent in regards to all of this that have helped me in honestly - and yes, even weakly - facing my areas of sickness. One of them has been the sea, the other has been more in-depth.

The former is familiar - I've already brought various aspects of the sea in previous postings, I've heard it referenced in songs, and I've heard it brought up in conversations with others who have no clue that this particular theme has been a central one for me thus far this year. In those instances, I can only take it as Providential and that there is something I do need to explore within myself as a result of what's been said. Fortunately, it's been said in a way that while on the one hand I know it will be difficult - it will be for my ultimate good.

To be specific it was brought up how there are places along various shores that when the tide goes out far enough one is able to explore nooks and crannies that otherwise couldn't be. Usually this would bring images to mind of hidden treasures and getting to see new things for possibly the first time.

However, in this conversation the point was made how during Lent the tide goes out and all of those things about ourselves that we like to have remain hidden are exposed. The air of calm that is there when the tide is in has been removed from not only ourselves but maybe even for others around us and as a result they need to be looked at, explored, and dealt with by God's grace through repentance.

This was very true for me when it was said and has been true for most of Lent. There have been things I've asked others about myself, or had things set before me to dive into even though I definitely had no desire to.

Granted, I know that in order to grow I need to be willing to look. God does me the favor by letting the tide go out more than usual during Lent not to test my willingness but rather to let me have a full-on open and honest look. And it's not all been pretty. Most of it, actually.

But the beauty of Lent is that God is not going to just let me sit there and let my compass spin. Rather, He's faithful to bring others into our journey so as to encourage us whether it's simply being present or engaging in an act of encouragement. Many times without their knowing that that is what they are in fact doing.

However, there's also the other theme that has floated around me for the last few years in more than one way. A thought that a friend put rather succinctly not that long ago: I don't love Christ enough. If I loved Him and believed my religion and were truly Christian, I wouldn't sin.

A very honest statement, and a very true one. And wow, I'm not the only one thinking it. However, I've learned enough to know that this thought is not one that automatically condemns me - rather, it helps me to grow because I've been able to sit and be honest with myself and how much I don't in fact love Christ.

This wasn't always the case. I grew up in a version of Christianity where one had to be perfect 24/7, but love wasn't in there at all. It was about atoning for the sin that I was born with and already condemned by. Grace was reduced to essentially a warm sensation one would feel after 'worshiping' or praying enough in a service - but hang onto it, as it would be as fleeting as the last note in the song that had me feel the grace flow. Needless to say, this gets to be very defeating very quickly.

Then came Orthodoxy. One of the things that has always amazed me is that how the Church of Christ and the Apostles, the Church with all of the smells and bells and doesn't leave *anything* out to the point where one could see how perhaps things are even more stringent can be both right and wrong.

Yes, stringent in that struggling against our sin is made more apparent and the reality of our need for God's grace is without question. However, the no comes in in regards to God's grace: it isn't but a moment, it isn't received after filling out a check list set up by someone else. Rather - it flows, and freely at that.

There have been times when in conversation I've admitted I'm barely a Christian - how can I possibly be a pre-monastic? It has been with gratitude when the response is that instead of that being a moment to let ourselves be crushed, we are to let God shower His love on us and to be all the more certain of it as we can't do anything outside of it anyways. That it's those moments when we realize how utterly empty and incapable we are that God can work all the more in us to not only draw us closer to Himself but make us even more like Him as we were meant to.

Yeah, there are many times when the tide has gone out and the things I'm seeing I really don't want to see, much less let anyone else see or even be aware of them. But by seeing those things I can then turn to Christ and ask for Him to heal me with an awareness I couldn't have had before. To take those things and either remove them or transform them into something that is truly beautiful and amazing by His grace. Will it be easy? Only Christ truly knows as while there have been times in my life when the transformation was a painful one, there have been others where the most painful thing I needed to do was simply repent and ask for Christ's help.

Unfortunately the enemy likes to cause confusion in the midst of those honest looks. Yes, if I truly loved Christ I wouldn't sin. I would be following everything as I should down to the letter. However, I am but a child who's barely learning to walk and didn't Christ say to not keep children from Him? And won't it be under His care that I will go about learning not only how to walk, but to even run when it's time? He knows I'm going to fall down. He knows I'm going to throw temper tantrums. He knows I'm going to mess myself. However, it's with patience and love that He picks me back up, helps me clean up and continues to guide me each step of the way when I let Him.

So yes, while Lent is going to do a nice job of letting me see those nooks and crannies that I'd rather not at the same time I need to look for the reminders that I am loved. That those nooks and crannies can be for God's glory even though I'm initially convinced there's nothing He can do with any of it. I just need to be willing to look by His grace.