Link below, and don’t forget to subscribe wherever you listen to your podcasts.

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The road to Calvary over these 40 days will be marked by confusion and concern, sadness, and, yes, even moments of joy; not the passing happiness we think of when we hear that word but deep-seated internal joy, the kind that lives in our heart when we put our trust in Jesus. The stories that mark the path from here until Easter are powerful and familiar, sometimes so familiar they fail to move us, or, more accurately, we fail to be moved. We’ve heard it all before. There’s nothing new here. But God makes all things new, and the Scriptures are alive with the Spirit, who blows through the ancient texts to make a word, a phrase, a scene jump out at the exact moment we need it, if only we’d settle down and listen, as St. Benedict taught, with the “ear of our heart.”

We need reminders, someone or something to point out what we’re missing. Lent is that reminder, affording us the time and space to go deeper, to sit with stories and let them speak to us as if for the first time. What is calling you to transformation? What speaks to your heart?

On that Sunday morning in church years ago, an old man sat in the pew in front of the precocious little boy. Hunched with age, he was held up on one side by a younger man, his son, perhaps. The older man was dressed in a beautiful suit, his Sunday best. He stood for every prayer, even though he struggled to make even the slightest move, and his son patiently helped him up and down. It was a beautiful moment, this juxtaposition of young and old, boundless curiosity and fading youth, but with faith and grace swirling around both, around all. Taking in the scene that morning, I was moved by the reality of so many people from so many places with so many stories, all hungry for one thing: an encounter with the Divine. The same could be said of our Lenten journey.

We walk this journey together, even if we think we are walking alone. Faith and grace binds us to each other and to our God, and that is the stuff of which pure joy is made. Begin down the path today, and, if you get sidetracked, dust yourself off and begin again, knowing that you have companions, seen and unseen, lifting you up, a Communion of Saints, in which we all get to stake our claim. Stop, look, listen. Joy is hiding in plain sight, even on the road to Calvary, even on the cross, because joy is not fleeting, joy is not a feeling, joy is the knowledge that we have been saved by Jesus Christ, who invites us to join him on The Way today, every day.

This column appeared in the Feb. 15, 2024, issue of The Evangelist.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

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Prayer is both our overarching theme and our underlying foundation during Lent (and during life!). Without it, nothing moves forward or expands outward. So today, even for just five minutes, sit with God in prayer. Don’t just move your lips; open the “ear of your heart,” as St. Benedict instructed. Prayer is not just talking; it is listening for the Spirit to speak to us, but that can only happen when we settle down in silence and pay attention with our very being.

If you’d like to continue this conversation on prayer, listen to the newest Life Lines podcast: “Living on a Prayer: Inspiration for Lent and Beyond” at the link below. And don’t forget to the subscribe to the podcast so you don’t miss any episodes!

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Cost: $15. Register via Venmo (@Mary-DeTurrisPoust) or Paypal (marypoust@gmail.com). Please be sure to include your name, email address, and the word “Lent” with your payment. A link will be sent after payment has been received. If you are unable to use those methods, email me at the address in the sidebar for further instructions. (This event is scheduled for Eastern time.)

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Now, however, we are on the cusp of Lent, and that provides us with yet another opportunity for growth and transformation. The structure of the season is perfect for making a plan and sticking to it. I don’t know about you, but I’m always able to do things in Lent that I just don’t have the willpower to do in “regular” life. The key is, as I’ve mentioned before, not to set yourself up for failure. Find one thing, one habit, one sacrifice that might challenge you; be sure that it’s infused with prayer and spirituality because that’s what will set this journey apart. Fasting without prayer is just a diet, so connect the dots between whatever you’re giving up and the spiritual path you’re on. To make this more holistic, it’s good to add something to your life — a specific prayer practice or maybe an act of service.

I was not so devoted to the meditation practice I recommended here a few weeks ago, so my plan is going to be to recommit to forty days of daily meditation that will include 5 minutes of spiritual reading followed by 10 minutes of silent meditation. (I’ll continue my gratitude journal as I always do and my yoga practice as well, which is spiritual practice for me as much as it is physical practice.) I haven’t yet decided what I’ll give up. So many things to chose from! I have toyed with the idea of giving up coffee, but I think my family is scared by that suggestion, as am I. My coffee cup is always full and at my side. Still… maybe that’s a crutch I can try to do without for a while. I still have to ponder this idea. Not sure I’m that evolved.

Take some time today and tomorrow, as Ash Wednesday approaches, to think about this coming Lenten season. What would make your time in the spiritual desert more fruitful? This is my favorite season in the Church year; there is something so beautiful about a season to strip away the things we don’t need or the things we allow to replace our connection to God and to dive deeper into the prayers and practices that can break us open and lead us forward.

We’ll continue this journey together in the weeks ahead. Share your experiences in the comment section, or shoot me an email. I love to hear from you. And thank you for inspiring me to show up and continue the hard work of becoming who I am meant to be.

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That line has always resonated with me, but never more so than when I sit down to write reflections on Scripture readings, verses that can feel so familiar there seems nothing new to uncover. My latest book of reflections, Not by Bread Alone 2021: Daily Reflections for Lent (Liturgical Press), is my third book of Lenten meditations and prayers, and so the challenge is real — but realer still is the truth that lives within Scripture. Old passages can speak new hope to us at any particular moment of our lives if we are willing to open ourselves up to the work and words of the Spirit. Even the familiarity of Lent itself can turn a season of growth into a rote spiritual exercise if we are not prepared to be surprised by God, sometimes in uncomfortable ways.

Here’s how I explained that challenge in the introduction to my book, which is meant to serve as a guide through the Lenten desert:

“It’s easy to think, as we begin yet another Lenten journey, that we know the drill. We’ve been here before; we know what’s coming. But the truth is that Scripture is a living thing, always new. I know this firsthand because every time I sit down to write a Lenten reflection about a Scripture passage I’ve heard or read too many times to count, something jumps out at me and makes me say, ‘How did I not notice that before?’ We hear every Scripture reading differently depending on where we are on our life journey, our spiritual journey, or maybe just what side of the bed we woke up on that day. God meets us where we are, and, if we’re paying attention, we can hear God, see God, recognize God in unlikely places, in stories we think we know. When we take time to listen for the still small voice, a scene, a sentence, a word calls out to us as if surrounded by blinking neon lights along a dark highway, and we are found, even if only for a few minutes…

“…To be honest, there were many days when I sat down with a set of Scripture readings and could not imagine what I might have to say that could be helpful to you. But, after sitting with the Scriptures, reading and rereading, taking them for a walk, sharing a cup of coffee with them as the sun rose outside my window, something always found its way off the page and into my heart, like a delicate shoot pushing through the cold, hard earth of winter into the warmth and light of spring.”

I’m always fascinated by where the spirit leads: an Old Testament reading sparks a reflection on hiking or on the Fibonacci sequence; a Gospel reading prompts the memory of a failed attempt to grow strawberries; another leads to an observation on the martial art of Aikido and still another on the childhood game of “Truth or Dare.” None of those topics was in the forefront of my mind as I sat down with Scripture, and yet through a series of spiritual twists and turns those seemingly ordinary and odd things became fodder for the Spirit to open my heart a little bit wider.

We all have that kind of creative prayer possibility within our reach. If we quiet ourselves and sit with Scripture, turning a word or a phrase or a scene over and over in our mind, the Spirit will reveal something to us — and about us — as a way to lead us deeper into the heart of God.

Not by Bread Alone 2021: Daily Reflections for Lent is available from Liturgical Press in multiple formats: English, Spanish, large-print, and e-book. For more information, visit www.NotStrictlySpiritual.com or order from https://litpress.org/Products/6424/Not-By-Bread-Alone

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Lent is one of those seasons that always begins with the best of intentions and rapidly goes downhill, at least that’s how it usually plays out for me. I plan to pray more, eat less, and find creative ways to make my favorite time in the Church year more meaningful. Unfortunately, the ashes hardly have time to settle into the wrinkles on my forehead before I’m feeling like I’ve already failed.

But Lent is a journey, not a pass-fail test. Trust me, if it were at all possible to fail Lent, I would have long ago been expelled from this spiritual school. Fortunately, the goal here is not a perfect score at the end of 40 days. In fact, let’s throw out the word “goal” and focus instead on practice — spiritual practice.

Here are five tips for shifting your Lenten journey from total spiritual makeover to subtle interior transformation:

1. Don’t start out with an unrealistic plan. Let me give you a peek into my own Lenten insanity. Last year in my spiritual journal, I wrote the following plan for Lent: “Prayer at breakfast; spiritual reading at lunch; no eating between meals; no sweets; check Facebook only twice each day and not at all after dinner; write at least one personal letter to a friend each week.” Let’s just say that if I was having trouble finding even ten minutes a day for prayer before Lent, there was really no chance whatsoever that I was realistically going to do even half of this. And so, within about 48 hours, I had “failed,” thereby giving myself permission to throw my hands up and toss out my Lenten promises. Don’t set yourself up for a fall. You know your limits. Yes, try to stretch beyond what you normally do, but don’t aim for something so spiritually pie-in-the-sky that you can’t possibly see it through.

2. If you’re not getting a lot out of Lent, look at what you’re putting in. Right from the start of Lent I expect to see tangible progress—and fast. But I don’t always want to put in the hard work or go to the uncomfortable places that progress requires. We need to approach spiritual practice the way I used to tell my son to approach piano practice: You don’t get to be an expert by simply sitting close to the lesson books. You have to work at it a little every day. We can make fabulous spiritual plans, but unless we stop all the busyness and spend at least a little quiet time with God in prayer every day, we’re going to have a hard time getting out of the starting gate.

3. If and when you slip up, start over or shift gears. One Lent a few years ago all of my grand plans were waylaid by sick children and my own bout with brief illness. For weeks on end, we had one virus after another keeping us down—both physically and spiritually. Rather than hang on for dear life to what I wanted, however, I began to realize that perhaps my “sacrifice” for the season was to let go of my plans, and accept what was in front of me—my children in need of a mom to comfort them and make them snacks. My Lenten plans were far more selfish than the Lenten reality I was handed. I wanted to lock myself away in silence. Instead I had to give up my quiet time and make time for someone else. So don’t see backsliding as failure but as an opportunity to figure out what your practice should really be about.

4. Don’t use Lent as a way to achieve other goals. When our Lent goes off course it’s often because we are focused on a secularized version of this spiritual season. We want transformation on our own terms. We give up sweets as a Lenten sacrifice but secretly hope we’ll lose a few pounds before Easter arrives. We give up meat on Fridays, but end up paying far more for flounder than we ever would have spent on chicken, defeating the purpose of “sacrifice.” We vow to pray more, but get annoyed when family responsibilities force us to miss daily Mass or our regular meditation time. Where is the still small voice in all of that?

5. When all else fails, just be kinder today than you were yesterday. Can we choose to love others—our family, our friends, the person who just cut you off on the highway—even when it would be easier, and perhaps even justified, to be angry? Can we look for our Lenten path in the worn tread of the carpet leading to the laundry room, in the concrete sidewalk leading to the bus stop, in the long line of cars at the toll plaza? Can we find transformation not on some cloud-lined spiral staircase leading to the sky but on the unswept kitchen floor surrounded by the people we love, who are often also the people who drive us crazy? If we can do that, even if we haven’t managed to follow through on any of our other plans, then we’ll pass Lent with flying colors.

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You can get this book in the standard pocket-sized version for only $1.99. If you buy 50 or more — for, say, a parish, a group, or a really big family — the price drops to 99 cents a copy. What a deal! It’s perfect for carrying in a purse or a pocket. Easy to take with you so you don’t miss a day. You can also get a large-print version for only $5.95, which is really nice if you prefer to keep this in your personal prayer space or on a nightstand and like a book with a little more heft. You can get the e-book for only 99 cents, if digital is more your speed. And you can get any of those variations in Spanish. Something for everyone. (Order soon so there are no issues with potential shipping delays, as has been common during COVID.)

This is my fifth book of seasonal Scripture reflections for Liturgical Press. I want to thank all those who have journeyed through past Advent, Lent and Easter seasons with me. I hear from so many of you, and I am so grateful for your emails, letters, comments, and observations.

If you go to the Liturgical Press website, you can get a taste of what’s inside this year’s book. They have the introduction and the first two reflections posted HERE.

Here’s an excerpt from the introduction:

“It’s easy to think, as we begin yet another Lenten journey, that we know the drill. We’ve been here before; we know what’s coming. But the truth is that Scripture is a living thing, always new. I know this firsthand because every time I sit down to write a Lenten reflection about a Scripture passage I’ve heard or read too many times to count, something jumps out at me and makes me say, ‘How did I not notice that before?’ We hear every Scripture reading differently depending on where we are on our life journey, our spiritual journey, or maybe just what side of the bed we woke up on that day. God meets us where we are, and, if we’re paying attention, we can hear God, see God, recognize God in unlikely places, in stories we think we know. When we take time to listen for the still small voice, a scene, a sentence, a word calls out to us as if surrounded by blinking neon lights along a dark
highway, and we are found, even if only for a few minutes…

“…To be honest, there were many days when I sat down with a set of Scripture readings and could not imagine what I might have to say that could be helpful to you. But, after sitting with the Scriptures, reading and rereading, taking them for a walk, sharing a cup of coffee with them as the sun rose outside my window, something always found its way off the page and into my heart, like a delicate shoot pushing through the cold, hard earth of winter into the warmth and light of spring.”

If you begin this journey with me on Ash Wednesday, which falls on February 17, we will be awaiting the delicate green shoots of spring by the time we wrap up on Easter Sunday, April 4. For some — like my family and friends in my old stomping grounds in Austin, Texas — spring will be pushing toward summer at that point. For those of us in the northeast, snow could still be on the ground. Regardless of geographic location, however, we will all have traversed the desert of Lent and Holy Week to emerge into the lush landscape of Easter and resurrection. I would be so grateful if you’d let me walk with you.

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