Limping through Lent

I have never run a marathon, and God willing, never will.  I don't run.  Ever.  Really, if I were being chased by a hungry bear, I'd probably just turn around and submit.  I don't run.

And yet, there is Lent.  That is a marathon, isn't it?  And here I am, on mile 19,  feet numb, lungs burning, with the thought of just simply quitting in the forefront of my mind.  The water bottle has long since been discarded, the idea of victory no longer consoling, and I can't quite see the finish line.

So what keeps me going?

Easter keeps me going.  I am literally limping through Lent at this point, only because I know the glory of Easter.  I know the sights, smells, the music, the light, the food.  I know the little girls in Easter dresses, the plastic eggs, the flowers.  I know family and friends.  I know the joy.  I know the glory. 

I know the Resurrection. 

I know that no matter how dreary these last days of Lent are, how hard the fasting gets, how tired I am, that the Resurrection awaits.

I know the tomb will be empty, and the cry will be, "He has Risen;  Alleluia!"  My emptiness, the emptiness of the tomb, will be filled with Christ, and Him alone.

Despite the fact that I just want to lie down and quit, I'm going to keep running towards Easter, because I know the Resurrection and it will be worth my limping through Lent.

1 comment:

  1. And that's why St. Paul was so fond of the race as a metaphor! Great post, Elise!

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