LENT: I CHOOSE ALL!

Currently Reading:
Shirt of Flame: A year with St. Therese of Lisieux

Currently Mulling over:
T.S. Eliot, the Four Quartets

“The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre—
To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.”

Currently Lectio-ing:
Psalm 119
Philippians

LENT.
It’s over now, and, as usual, I’m feeling dissatisfied with, as my friend Sara says, my ability to “inhabit the Lenten drama”. I’m not sure what the standard should be. I began Lent concerned with mindfulness, which then led to a desire for thankfulness, which has ended up with a deep desire for belonging and the ability to welcome suffering. I do feel that Lent has made me more mindful: more aware of God and the world, more present to the Great Realities of life. It’s also made me a better reader of the Bible, which was one of my most important Lenten goals. It’s also made me more aware of superficiality in my life. A friend told me last summer that she thought I wasn’t living the life I was meant to live. I see that clearly, after Lent.
In my head, I believe that it is possible to do Lent perfectly. What does that mean? I don’t know If Lent is a skill one develops, I don’t know if that should be my concern. I gave up reading and watching, because I wanted to embrace emptiness and be more aware of God than the world of invention.
It’s very hard to sit with emptiness, and there were many times when I distracted myself with things I had not declared anathema during this forty day fast. Lent was a struggle because I’m brawling with Calvinist doctrine: very few of the TULIP’s petals smell sweet to me these days. My church is studying 1 John, so I’m struggling with assurance, too. Do I feel certain right now that I’m saved? I don’t. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved, they’ve told me. Well, I believe. The issue is a lack of fruit, fruit borne as proof of this salvation. . . . I haven’t written in so long it’s hard to retrieve the right words. . . . After Lent—a time when I should have embraced struggle—I’m struggling with one thing. I’m deathly afraid of suffering.

Embracing Jesus means embracing all he offers—every blessing—and suffering is a blessing, and don’t I know that already?

When I’m not fearfully running from suffering, I like to tentatively pat it on the head with one hand, an acknowledgement of its presence and worth, but not quite a hospitable embrace. I just can’t wrap my arms around it; it might bite my face off. Or, rather, it will bite my face off. How do you welcome pain?
I like to read Saints’ lives because they challenge my understanding of knowing God. For example, St. Therese of Lisieux is all about embracing suffering.

What true saint is not about embracing suffering?

I’m struck with St. Therese’s famous saying: “I choose all!”. Well, I like to choose all the parts of knowing God in Christ that are comfortable and obviously good, and leave all the suffering for more zealous Christians. But, I must be a zealous Christian; that’s the only option available. We only live, only suspire/consumed by either fire or fire.

From St. Therese’s, The Story of a Soul:

Later, when perfection made its appearance to me, I understood that in order to become a saint you have to suffer a lot, always be in search of what is most perfect, and forget yourself.

I don’t want to be a halfway saint. It doesn’t scare me to suffer for You; I’m afraid of only one thing, and that is to hold onto my will. Take it, because ‘I choose all,’ all that You want!

Divert my eyes from toys and trinkets; invigorate me on this pilgrim way.