I’m late for Lent.
Whether you want to believe it or not, I’m not the only pastor on earth arriving late for Lent.
I’ve always loved Lent,
a season of intentional renewal,
when we purposefully set time aside for contemplation and reflection,
an avenue for spiritual calm.
Obviously, it’s counterproductive to hurry and try to get caught up in order to be quiet and calm.
It reminds me of being late for seminary class on the first day of a new semester . . .
There’s an unwritten rule that no one is late to class on this auspicious day. So. I left earlier than usual because of the threat of snow (I should have left earlier). The flakes came and immediately slowed traffic down (snow makes drivers crazy in my neck of the woods). I had two options. I could be calm or stressed over the delay. I chose to be stressed (crazed). The parking lot was full. I parked several blocks away, grabbed my books, and ran. I slipped and dropped everything (of course). When I finally made it to class, the professor was an hour into his lecture. My plan was to slip in quietly; however, I tripped and dropped everything (again). The professor stopped lecturing as all (yes, all) of the students helped to gather my stuff and assist me to my seat (sigh). Once everyone sat down, the professor calmly questioned me, “Are you through?” Bedlam ensued (save me).
I am sure there’s an unwritten tardiness rule when it comes to Lent, most likely to prevent spiritual bedlam or something like that.
I’m confessing to being late to this beautiful season, precariously carrying all my stuff as I make my way to a place I can start.
The thing is . . . Lent doesn’t save us . . . it welcomes us to who does.
Be still and know–Kerrie
Written by Kerrie Carlisle Palmer © 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED