Many of us tend to avoid difficult things. We don’t want to be uncomfortable. We don’t want to do the hard thing. We don’t want to be sad. We don’t want to be tired. We want to be content, and happy, and rested, and we want all the good things.  Learning how to lean into the unpleasant things that we must do can take a lifetime to learn. It can also be one of the hardest things to teach our children. It’s a lesson that can take a long time to translate, which is probably why we are often still working on it long after we’ve outgrown the things that defined our childhood.  

Sometimes the motivation is provided by an expected payoff. We learn that time spent in the gym, or logging miles, or that the hours spent mastering a skill will pay off in tangible ways. We can do more or feel better because of our efforts, and that feels good. Or we gain recognition and praise as others recognize our mastery and development, and most of us like that. These are the experiences that can cause lightbulbs to go off, connecting dots between hard work, challenge, and payoff.

Other times, the hard and difficult things are just unpleasant, and the payoff is a lot harder to celebrate in the short term. Someone must clean up the mess the dog has made. We do need to file taxes! Our relationship demands that we have the hard conversation. We stand before God and admit where we fall short and miss the mark. We would avoid most of these things if we could. Eventually, we learn that there is a different sort of payoff in doing things that are painful or humbling or make us feel vulnerable.

The Lenten journey is one that can be inherently difficult. Yes, we pray about how we “prepare with joy for the paschal feast,” in one of the seasonal prefaces during the eucharist, but let’s be honest: much of the Lenten season is not joy-inducing. Spiritual character building is great, in theory, but not high on most of our lists. How does one engage in repentance without the uncomfortableness of humility and honesty before God? If we’re seeking authentic reconciliation, we really can’t. Ironically, God already knows everything we would say to God.  God’s aware of all our failures. And yet, as hard and unpleasant as it is, there is great value and meaning in our words and prayers and actions during this season. It matters that we step into the light and offer ourselves up without holding anything back.

Sometimes dealing with the hard thing is freeing, as it is in the case of Lenten introspection and confession. This isn’t meant to be a chore or a task to be endured, but a path to freedom and joy. The hard part is naming our struggles, our failures, and our brokenness so that we can be mended, healed, restored, and forgiven. That is an incredible payoff. That brings joy. May it be so for each of us who feels a sense of burden in this season.  

Tom+

O Lord, strong and mighty, Lord of hosts and King of glory: Cleanse our hearts from sin, keep our hands pure, and turn our minds from what is passing away; so that at the last we may stand in your holy place and receive your blessing; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

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