At my house, I’ve got a couple options for where prayer can happen. I can either retire to the back porch or descend the steps to my basement office. But, prayer only happens at one time: after everybody else goes to bed. 

Now – the other night, I went downstairs because the temperature outside was too cold for this Southern boy. Don’t get me wrong: I’d rather be on the porch, but I have no reason to endure temperatures below 60. 

So, I navigate the spiral staircase to what Jessica, my wife, affectionately refers to as “The Writer’s Cave.” Blessedly, I remembered to start my heater when we returned from dinner, so it’s a comfortable 72 in the cave. 

Before I fall into my high, winged back chair, I get a favorite pipe lit and my short glass with one ice cube. 

Once in the chair with my feet on an ottoman, the whole day floats through my mind like puffs of smoke from my pipe. 

The first thought to stoke a fire was the family’s dinner at McDonald’s. This was a two-part dinner and all family tradition. First, Jessica and I are parents of children who are at that “Happy Meal” stage. But also, it’s a family indulgence of Papa. You see: McDonald’s fish sandwiches were the lunch for the campus ministry student helpers at Loyola University in New Orleans. I spent my first year of undergraduate there. So, the family tradition seeks who has the best fish sandwich, and the family indulges me by going to McDonald’s. 

My prayer, then, starts with a boatload of thanksgiving. I thank God for the family-time, my job for enabling the dinner, fond memories at Loyola, our children’s mostly good behavior, and for their indulgence. 

Then, my mind’s ear hears the unmistakable sound of a long creak, which is only made by a wooden rocking chair on a wood porch. The distinct impression of a front porch accompanies that sound, and a scene of hills covered in pines and magnolias builds around it with the fog just beginning to rise through the canopy. 

Then, my imagination adds [in the combination of English and Irish accents that only those tree-covered hills can produce] these words: “Isn’t it amazing when the secular part takes notice of a Church season?”

The Journey So Far

After a laugh [because this conversation starts with a question, and I can’t avoid trying to answer a question], I respond, “I always find that fascinating, but at least with the fish sandwich deals, the secular side hasn’t taken over, like at Christmas.”

“Maybe, but the focus for Lent is different than Advent and Christmas” comes the reply. 

[Now – of course, I’m hooked since there’s a topic for an exchange of observations.] I say, “Well, Lent makes a hard turn from Epiphanytide too, right? We had a season where the focus was going with You, and Lent brings a season of penance. I’m all ready to walk with You and see the next thing, but I must divert those steps into figuring out my Lenten fast.”

My Buddy asks, “Hold on. So, you were ready to rush into a walking expedition? Hmm, that doesn’t sound right. Plus, I’m sure, after only one season, that you’ve made some choice for ‘not Me’. So, some time in confession wouldn’t be the worst of ideas.”

[My reflection on Epiphanytide and walking is available – here.]

I can only narrow my eyes and say, “That’s certainly beyond dispute. Makes me even more grateful for Your presence with me. This constant confirmation of Christmas is a delightful mystery.”

My Friend starts with a laugh before: “Hmm, avoiding the subject of confession time; that’s fine. Let’s stay with this rush into walking though. That just seems all wrong. Didn’t someone write about their journey being ‘derived’ from that ‘delightful mystery’?”

That’s just frustrating, but I must admit: “Yeah, seems like I remember someone publishing that on their website a few months back.” I persist in saying, “Still, that’s one more confirmation of Your presence, and I’m grateful for that. Though, I will confess that my rush into walking shows a short memory for Who’s in charge after only one season.”

[You can read my whole Christmas reflection – here. ]

I sense a nod from my Buddy – A nod that communicates only: “That’s what I thought.” A moment of silence follows that nod. A quiet filled with the weighing of thoughts about what’s been said and what should come next, as well as the passing clouds from my pipe.  

About Lent

“All right, fine – I can see the use of a period of confession after a mere one season of ‘walking’ with You. However, I remain at a loss.” My Buddy says, “So, what else is new?” After an eyeroll, I continue, “Regardless, I have this awareness, at least from conversations around me, that the Lenten season is simply a time of confession. It’s like we spend the whole season of Lent listing the mistakes we’ve made. What’s the sense in that? You know what I’ve done wrong; I  know the times that I’ve not chosen You, and we even talk about that – on occasion. So, what’s the point?”

“Now,” my Buddy begins, “you know that any Church season is never that easy to nail down. Yet – confession, fasting, and almsgiving play a part. Would you do me a favor?” Without pausing for my acceptance or denial, there comes another question: “Refresh My memory – the millenniums become a blur after a while. Wasn’t there some controversy around the earliest days of Lent?”

[There it is again: a unique demonstration of exactly how to keep me in this conversation.] My head rolls from side to side, and I can take a moment to whittle my thoughts. I say, “Sure, there must have been some controversy, because the instructions from the Ancient Days were so confused. The guidance for Lent appears to be almost on a parish-by-parish level.” 

“Ah, yes,” my Buddy says with the tone of seeing a meandering history lecture on the horizon. “Right – then, y’all made it to Nicaea, formalized some stuff, and settled on an imitation of Me in the 40 Days in the Desert. But, what was the point?”

“Preparation for Easter, if I remember correctly.”

“Right, right – and what comes at Easter?”

I say with the slow drawl of seeing a point, “Your moment of forgiveness. So, I’m back to waiting like Advent?”

Faithful Connection

My Friend waves a hand at my question: “No, not really. Why was I drawn into the Desert after My baptism?”

I flounder to recall that episode precisely. I say, “Moving into the Desert comes before Your temptation, so it’s often presented as Your ‘preparation’ for public ministry.”

After a laugh, my Buddy says, “I see those air-quotes, but such a presentation has a point, right? With Advent, there’s an intuition of simply waiting on Me. Christmas brings My work alone, which makes it the perfect place to begin the year. Since your journey is dependent on Me in the first place, yeah?”

There’s a pause long enough for me to shrug my shoulders in agreement, and my instruction continues: “But with forgiveness, an idea comes that desires confession before forgiveness. You must admit a mistake before you can receive forgiveness.”

“So, what You’re saying is that there’s no solution for a problem that remains hidden?”

My Pal says, “I think that’s spot on. If you’re right, you and I have traveled together initially, but now the invitation is to travel a little farther – come a little closer in our walk together. Some preparation is necessary at that point, because an invitation requires acceptance or rejection.”

“Okay – all right,” I say. “I can see that point, and I appreciate the reconciliation between the focus on confession and the preparation for Easter. Still, one question lingers: Does Lent not share some quality with Advent, then? Are You not demonstrating to me – again – that You are with me even before that choice?”

My Buddy pads the air between us in resignation: “Yeah – fine, I’ll grant you that one. Remember: You can only go with Me, because I am with you.”

At that point, I jab my tamper to the bottom of my pipe, and a new instruction comes: “And with that, I believe you should go to bed. After all, looks like one in the morning where you are.”

I scrape the ash from my pipe with a sigh, and I say, “Well, thanks for the visit. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“I’m here whenever.” The sound of the rocking chair fades from my mind as my basement office takes my attention. I put the pipe back in its rack before the slow climb up the stairs. Now, we’ll see if I actually get any sleep. Let us pray the youngins are peaceful through the night.

Story Time

Thanks for joining me for this reflection time. I changed the style for this one, so if God used it as an impact on your journey, leave me a comment.

Now, I invite you to linger in God’s presence for a story. While Amos’ Tale is purely fictional, I pray it will bring home the point about preparing to meet God during Lent. Amos built lots of expectations for meeting his family after a long haul in his truck, but reality doesn’t quite meet expectation. So, Amos is left with a choice [the same choice that you and I face on our journeys with God]: Does he seek his spouse and their path together, or does he choose ‘not his spouse’ to walk alone? You’ll have to read to find out.

Lent’s Story: “Amos’ Tale“