“I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart.” (Hosea 2 16b)
It is a beautiful reminder that in this season of Lent God has an intimate invitation for me.
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Ash Wednesday reminded us that although we come from dust and will return to dust – apparently worthless, we are in fact priceless in the heart of Jesus.
Over and over again the readings of Lent speak of life, of living, of commitment, of sacred relationship. Lenten readings remind us of God’s faithful presence, pure justice and gentle mercy. We recall the invitation to love our neighbor. To love ourselves. To love God above all. We are assured that God’s steadfast love will lead to glorious joy. But also, the readings catch us up in the struggles – very human struggles. How could it be that this loving God would ask a loving parent, Abraham, to sacrifice his son, Isaac, his “only one, whom you love?” We stand with Joseph as he listens, hears and responds to the messenger and takes Mary as his wife, rather than turn her over to the law. We witness the child Jesus mesmerized by the teachings, forgetful of his family and staying behind in the temple. We are invited to participate in the celebration of the Last Supper when Jesus reminds us to do this in His memory – to heal the sick, feed the hungry, cloth the naked, to laugh and rejoice together, to pray and to listen, to break bread and eat together in His name. We are invited to kneel with Jesus prayerfully weeping in solidarity with him and with those over whom he weeps: the poor, the outcast, the orphaned, the sick and the dying, and all who feel alone, desperate and forgotten. We are being invited to continue his gentle, loving ministries. Each one of us is invited into the struggle of identity and commitment. We have witnessed a God who quenches thirst and satisfies hunger. We have heard of God who destroys and builds up. We have witnessed the gentle Jesus in conversation with the Samaritan woman. The just and merciful Jesus in dealing with lost and forgotten. The stories are endless and we are being invited to listen on a deeper more personally intimate level and to respond. The stories are stark reminders of the peace that follows surrender, of the freedom that comes with commitment, of love that flows from faithfulness. They are about relationship and invitation.
Today, as I walk the busy city streets, meander country villages and farmers’ fields, visit the sick or imprisoned, nurse my infant or feed an enfeebled elder, or sit at the foot of the cross I might pray:
How have I been present to the weeping Jesus this Lent? As Jesus wept over Jerusalem who or what specifically was I being invited to notice and be with?
How has the gentle merciful Jesus been present to me in my struggle this Lent?Who/Where am I in this story of unfolding love, mercy, justice and peace?
What is my story of struggle, identity, commitment, peace and freedom?
“If today you hear His voice, harden not your heart.” (Psalm 95)
In these final hours of Lent, what is it that I have heard whispered in my heart these past few weeks? What tender, loving, caressing words meant only for me?
Joan Blandin Howard
After working and teaching at Creighton for many years, I am officially retired, but hardly so. Having 5 adult children, in-laws, and 11 grandchildren I keep pretty busy! My husband and I spend hours in our garden planting, pruning, dead-heading and of course weeding and mowing! We spend even more time sitting in our garden, delighting in its beauty. The beauty overwhelms me and invities me into a space of en-Joy-ment and gratitude to the Creator and Artist of all. I have much for which to be grateful. I also like to travel, read, write and make art. My ministry of spiritual direction and silent retreats continues.
I count my blessings. You among them.
Initially I thought I was writing for myself. I use the readings as a source of personal prayer. I thoroughly enjoy the time I spend in prayer, study and preparation. The writing seems to be a natural end product. The wonderful e-mails I receive tell me that I am not writing just for me and they reconfirm my faith in the presence of the Lord, who speaks all languages, permeates untold experiences, and surfaces in the most ordinary of daily delights and disturbing distractions. That the Lord would speak through me is a gift I had not anticipated.
I thank you, the reader and fellow pilgrim, for joining us on our journey. God bless us.
