Deny Yourself . . .

Have you ever noticed that one of the hardest people to deny is yourself?

We treat ourselves with kid gloves. Be honest. On a hard, stressful day, how often do you indulge in something, whatever that thing is, even though you know it’s not good for you, or it’s excessive, or maybe even obsessive? But you still do it because you’ve “earned it,” and surely it will ease the pressure, stress, anxiety, anger, sorrow, you name it.

But does it really? Or is it just temporary?

And I’m not just talking about food or drink. Maybe you choose something that looks good or even healthy, but you avoid the thing you should be doing. The hard conversation. The workout. The prayer time. The apology. The discipline. The effort.

We go easy on ourselves while quietly placing heavy expectations on everyone else.

Sound like a Pharisee much?

If you’re married, you probably get it. I do. And as I write this, I’ll say it plainly. I struggle with this, too. Sometimes I avoid the “hard” work, the stuff that stretches and stings but I know will bear good fruit. I’m talking about every area of life, physical and spiritual.

Then when nothing changes, when I’m still standing at the start of the race, I find myself asking:
What will it take to finally take the plunge?
What’s the block?
What’s the fear?
And who’s holding the other end of the rope?

If I’m honest, the block is me.
The fears are mostly illusions in my own mind.
And the One holding the other end of the rope is Trustworthy and True. He always has been.

My problem is (real) trust.

He’s always calling. Always waiting. Never forcing Himself.

I started this Lent with a deep longing to truly plunge into the dark and deep, spiritually and physically. I didn’t make long, elaborate lists or grand resolutions. I know what He’s asking of me. But I still catch myself saying, “Nah, that’s not it. That’s not important. No, not that.”

And yet, so often He’s asking us to take care of the seemingly “unimportant” things. The little everyday stumbling blocks that secretly get in the way of our relationship with Him and with the people we love.

The little things.

Those are the things that strengthen us for the bigger ones.

He doesn’t ask for perfection. He asks for effort. Real effort.
The first step. Then the next. And the next.
And He’s there every single moment.

Lent is a season where we can and should expect real transformation of heart, mind, body, and soul. It’s chalk full of grace. Why wouldn’t we take advantage of that?

A friend said to me recently, “I hope your Lent is excruciating.”

You might think, Geeze, Barb, some friend.
But that’s precisely right.

A penitential season is meant to be uncomfortable. It’s meant to pull us out of the normal and the comfortable and lead us into the deep, dark, and sometimes cold places where real growth, courage, and faith live and breathe.

If we stay in the comfort zone, we’ll gain exactly that, comfort and complacency.

Our culture tells us we’re made for comfort. But is that really what our hearts are searching for?

Here’s what Pope Benedict XVI says:
“The world will offer you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.”

Greatness.

That word resonates, doesn’t it? Of course it does! That’s you, and me!

Jesus didn’t die on the Cross and pour out every ounce of His blood so we could remain comfortably adequate human beings. Not a chance. We are made for greatness.

And if you’re like me, only a few days into Lent and you’ve already slipped back into your comfort zone, take my hand.

Let’s start again.

You’re pursuing greatness. So am I. And we’ll get there.

Let’s thank God even for the fall and pick up where we left off. No regrets. No discouragement. No complaining. Heroic virtue teaches us not to look back, but with faith and confidence to simply begin again.

So here I go.

I’m grabbing my little tugboat and heading out into the deep again. I’m taking off the kid gloves and starting to swing again. Maybe I’ll be shadowboxing for a while, but eventually I’ll land a hit.

And when I do, my Heavenly Father and all the celestial beings will be cheering.

Yeah, they will!

And they’re cheering for you, too.

Take the first step.
Deny yourself.
And finish the race.