Lent is my favorite church season.  Hands down, no doubt about it.   I anticipate this Church season's arrival and I am saddened when Lent is concluded.  Maybe it's all the purple; the mystery, the 'interior movement' of these forty days and forty nights.  It's all that, but more importantly, it is the intimate connection made with the suffering Christ.  He is always near, Jesus is. He never leaves our side.  But Lent, again, it's a special time.  I cherish the 'other-worldly' atmosphere that is almost tangible, touchable and concrete.  The silence is more acute.  It's hard to explain because silence is, well, silence.  However, for me, the silence of Lent is unique; it is more intense, more personal...much more personal.  What I try is to carry this Lenten experience the year round.  It's difficult to articulate.  For example, I love autumn.  Fall is my favorite of the four seasons.  The colors of autumn can not be carried over into spring, summer or winter.  For that brief period of time are the fall hues available to us.  I take them in; the burnt colors and the scent of smoldering leaves and the harvest being gathered into barns.  I recall all this throughout the winter season when there is such starkness and surface blandness.  By mid-spring, I'm into and appreciative of that season.  Yet, anxiously, I'm already looking forward to autumn which is four or five months in the distance.  I am recalling and anticipating at the same time.  Odd?  Perhaps.  It's just how I'm wired.

Lent is when I choose to make my yearly retreat.  It has been my practice for my entire 26 years of priestly life to escape into the silence and away from it all, during Lent, so as to better delve into this sacred season.  This Sunday after our 10AM service, I'll head east, just beyond the big, inland ocean we call Lake Michigan toward Three Rivers, Michigan and settle in at St. Gregory's Episcopal Abbey.  The monks are welcoming, friendly and have become part of my extended church family.  Albeit a small community, the Spirit is quite alive, stirring and large in Her presence about the place. 

While I'm away, I will continue to be mindful of St. Nicholas; the people I love and the building that is our worship space.  I will pray for my parish family, the entire extended community.  I will ask the Lord of Heaven and Earth to look favorably upon His people, my people, and bless, sustain and care for each and every one. 

While reading some Lenten material, I came across this poem written by Trevor Thorn.  I found it to be a lovely, meditative instrument.  In fact, I suspect I'll use it again, during Advent, as I prepare for the Feast of the Nativity. 

I hope you find the words and message both comforting and confronting.  May it lead you to both the stable and the cross, from Jesus' coming into the world and His re-entry into the world, as He breaks the chains of death and sets our souls free of sin and strife.

Continue the Lenten journey with a sustained hope and greater peace in both mind and heart.  God keep us safe and secure and continue to hold us, ever, in the palm of God's hands.

Wood and Nails