Lent is a breath taken before shouts of adoration – the Church’s magnificent inhalation.
Lent is a wound, a thorn in the flesh of the gods of our own making, an interruption in the ebb and flow of our most revered secular liturgies.
Lent is the imposition of ashes, a chorus of dust and dry bone, a prayer for living breath.
Lent is a voice crying in the wilderness, a finger stabbing in the direction of Golgotha.
Lent is submission to the cost of discipleship, liberation from the price of self-indulged freedom.
Lent is an interlude, a darkness preceding the terrible brightness.
Lent is nothing, a clattering cymbal, if not for the one whose destruction and vindication bid the foe become beloved.
Lent is an affirmation and an invitation. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.