I know it sounds masochistic, but my favorite church season of the year is Lent.  It is not because I get some sick pleasure out of giving up chocolate or caffeine, or that I absolutely LOVE hearing the Scriptures and the early Church fathers tell me what a wretched soul I am.  No, Lent is special for me because I am a “Why?” person.  Why do we muddle through boring sermons and long liturgies so that we may find God?  Why can the world be such a hurtful and mean place?  Why do I believe in God in the first place?  Yes, even your priest has asked these questions, and there are some for which he is still seeking an answer.

I figure that there are many of you in the same boat, with your own set of “Why?” questions.  We can have all the theological discourse you want in Sunday School, in church, over a cup of coffee, or out in the woods, but the bottom line is that some of these “Why?” questions can only be answered through the direct, painful method of human experience.

Lent is the time of the Church’s life cycle where we are forced to confront the difficult realities of life and our

faith.  We are very good at establishing protective layers around ourselves to insulate us from the pain of the world.  An honest engagement with the message of Lent – “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” – demands that some, if not all, of these layers be peeled back.  What we are left with is a core that is vulnerable and can easily be hurt by those looking to exploit it.  But in this core we find the source of our being, and others find this source as a direct pipeline to the infinite joys of God.

It is no accident that many of the images of the Kingdom of God are about harvesting the first fruits.  We have already been harvested and made God’s own through our baptism.  Fruit can only be enjoyed, though, after the work of peeling and removing the seeds inside.  Otherwise, it is only good to rot in the storehouses or in the fruit bowl on our coffee tables.  For us, that work of peeling and cutting out the rotten parts (or, I should say, often it is BEING peeled) is a perpetual process because we live in a world that compels us to seek shelter from pain and hide behind a symbolic façade to project an image of strength when in fact we are often full of doubt and torment.

It is the hopeful message that God has made His temple in us – the very dust of the earth – that girds my faith and strengthens me when all else fails.  Lent forces me to let go of my delusions and pretenses and see myself for who I truly am.  Why does God love me?  Because underneath all the protective exterior – that is, my own desires to hold the world at arm’s length - there is a child seeking to be loved and seeking to love, whom God made simply because He chose to.  Open your hearts to the Spirit’s transforming power this Lenten season, and this simple message of “Jesus loves me” becomes no longer a children’s Sunday School axiom, but a reality that defines and shapes our lives to the very core.  May God guide us and comfort us as we continue on the journey of discovering who we are in His image.

Bailey