So this is Lent. It
always seems a little odd here on Sanibel.
Growing up—and indeed for most of my adulthood--Lent began in the midst
of snow and cold. It was a dank and
dreary time as we waded through the final throes of winter. The slow dirge-like hymns of Lent seemed to
fit perfectly our weather-weary hearts! And
as March drifted into mud season, as it was called in northern New England, we eagerly looked forward to longer days,
warmer temperatures and the early flowers of spring. Easter, with its bright colored clothing and
vibrantly hued flowers provided the perfect antidote to our mud season
doldrums. Not only was Christ raised
from the dead, but our spirits were raised up as well.
But it’s different here on Sanibel. Winter is, very arguably, the loveliest
season of the year! The crowds on the
beaches, the cars on Periwinkle
Way, and the visitors in our pews all bear
testimony to the fact that this is the place to be in March. Easter will come in all its glory—but the
contrast will not be the bit of drama that it was up North. So it is that if Lent is to have its impact
here where it is unaided by the world of nature, we must take on the
responsibility for examining the dank and dreary spots ourselves. We must be willing to stop and consider how
drab our lives would be without the love of God made known in the
Resurrection. Not that we should pull
ourselves into some sort of emotional or spiritual hole, but rather that we
should be honest in our appraisal of life.
Then, and only then, will we be able to fully appreciate the wonder of
that great and special day we call Easter.
That, of course, is how it should be anywhere that
Christians live—New England, Minnesota
or Southwest Florida. But stripped of the external reminders
brought about by winters up north, we must be especially alert to the
importance of internal reflection and preparation in Lent.
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