I have a deep, dark secret. It’s embarrassing and, frankly, hard to admit. It’s not something I want people to know about me. It makes me look like a bad Christian, and I’m worried people will judge me. But, in pursuit of authenticity, I’m going to tell you what it is: I am a Lenten failure.
I’m doing pretty well fasting from social media, except when I had to check what was happening at home with the bad weather because we were out of town. Oh, and that time (or two) I was bored out of my mind and fell into the trap.
I’ve managed to avoid eating meat on Fridays but have forgotten that I intended to fast from food on Fridays, too. The alms I planned to give are still living in my head, but I haven’t made any solid plans to make them happen. I intended to pray for a different person every day and send them a card. I even bought special cards! Want to guess how many I’ve sent? A big, fat zero.
I mean, I am praying… when I remember to, even though my phone reminds me to do it! That daily family rosary? It has probably only happened 10 times since Ash Wednesday. See what I mean? A total Lenten failure. And these failures don’t end with Lent.
During Lent, my family has a tradition of only praying the Sorrowful Mysteries. I don’t know why we started that — maybe something I read. Advent is for the Joyful Mysteries, and Lent is for the Sorrowful in my house. Walking beside Jesus in the Sorrowful Mysteries, placing myself in those scenes, makes me realize that my failures show me in the crowd shouting, “Crucify Him!” reminding me of the upcoming Good Friday liturgy.
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I learn to place myself in the garden with Jesus. While the Disciples snooze, I watch Jesus sweat blood and accept the cup of suffering. As they whip Jesus, cutting through flesh to the bone, I stand and watch. As the soldiers strip Him and place the terrible crown of thorns on His precious head, He looks into my eyes. I want to believe that I would be like Veronica, wiping Jesus’ face while He carries the cross, facing the wrath of the Romans but in my heart, I know I probably wouldn’t. Would I be among those who loved Jesus and stood at the foot of the Cross while He died? Or would I be far off like St. Peter?
But thanks be to God for my failure! A beloved priest friend once gave a homily about how we are supposed to fail during Lent. You see, if we are picking things that are a challenge, we will fail. It’s not a “get out of jail free” card to say that.
We should be holding ourselves to those high standards, leaving behind the things of this life that drag us down and take us away from God. But God, in His unending mercy, understands us and our failings. He meets us in the depths of our failures, whatever they are, and walks us out of them. If we could do it alone, if we could succeed at this spiritual life without stumbling, we wouldn’t need Jesus.
No matter how many times I’ve failed… He died for me. He bore the stripes of my iniquities. He was wounded for my transgressions. In His love, God uses Lent to show how much I need Jesus. And so, I begin again, trying to remember to hold on to Jesus this time.
Brandi Skidmore, now of Indiana, is the former vice president of the Ladies Altar Society at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church at Lake Village, Ark.
Editor’s note: Pastors, ministers or other writers interested in writing for this section may submit articles for consideration to shope@adgnewsroom.com. Writers should have connections to Southeast Arkansas. Please include your name, phone number and the name and location of your church or ministry.