A Journey Through Lent: Week One
From ashes to ashes; from dust to dust. This is a phrase that has been uttered throughout the history of the Church. It is a phrase that marks the beginning of the Lenten Season. “from dust you were created, and to dust, you will return.” These words are recited as ashes are smeared on the foreheads of the faithful. A physical reminder of where we came from and where we are going. Life is short. It is a fleeting gift. A gift that is marked by our humanity. It is during Lent that we acknowledge our frailty. It is the time of year where we enter into the preverbal desert of the soul. The deepest darkest parts of our being are acknowledged. We are frail; both in our human frame and spirit. There are many tensions of the soul brought to the surface during the Lenten Season.
One of the hardest tensions of faith lies belief and doubt. You doubt in yourself, and you see the doubt on the faces of those who know your struggles. You even doubt whether or not you can truly change. Does this doubt mean you have too little faith? I don’t think the presence of faith is the absence of doubt. Faith is based on belief in hope. It requires assurance and trust. If we have no faith then what are we doubting in? One can not doubt without some sort of faith. How long can we wait on God with no faith? The longer we wait; the stronger our faith. It is okay to doubt. In the end, it tests our faith, and we are stronger because of it (I Peter 1:6–7). What if God loves those who doubt? When dealing with our largest doubts, He can demonstrate truth, patience, and kindness. Remember, the greatest believers were often the greatest doubters. Martin Luther struggled with believing that he could really be forgiven. Thomas doubted whether Jesus was actually risen from the grave. St. Augustine struggled to believe that God was actually good. I have realized that some of my greatest doubts are now the bedrock of my faith. Martin Luther started the Reformation based around the idea that we did not have to work for the forgiveness of sins. Thomas placed his hands in the scars of the risen Jesus and wept. Augustine ran the early church and helped articulate the problem of evil in regards to faith. The doubt of these giants of faith motivated them to do amazing things for the kingdom of heaven.
How does doubt motivate us? This is the question that needs to be asked. I don’t want my struggle to define who I am. I can’t let doubt do it either. I say, let others doubt in me. God can deal with them. I need to put less energy on worrying about what others think of me and more energy worrying about what God thinks of me. If one day those who did not believe in me want to place their hands in my wounds of doubt, which at that time be scarred over, then so let them. If I can’t doubt then I can’t seek. If I can not seek, then I can not find. Doubt provides a glimpse of freedom. Doubt is what leads me to the door. Behind that door is hope, and freedom. Do doubt. Know that you are not alone in your doubting. Know that it is our doubting that drives us to find answers for the brokenness that we feel. This time of year, take the time to be bold in your doubting. Take the time to be bold in your seeking.
St. John of the Cross wrote a poem on the struggle of following God while wrestling with doubt and secret hurts. His famous poem is called “The Dark Night of the Soul.” We all have that dark night. That dark night of wrestling with God. Spend time this week meditating on this work of art. Open your mind to the creator of the universe. Do not look at this poem through the eyes of logic. Simply let go….and let the meditation wash over you.
On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.
In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised–oh, happy chance!–
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my
heart.
This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me–
A place where none appeared.
Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.
The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.
I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.
