Take the Slow Road to Easter

It’s almost embarrassing to share this, but I gave up a really great parking space yesterday. I drove into the ramp, which is always packed, and there it was, right on Level 2. It was kind of in a corner, though, and I had never parked there before. I pulled in, and then debated. Is this really a space? Why is it open? What if it’s not a legit spot? Will I get towed? In the end, I pulled out. In my rear view mirror I could see another car quickly take the spot I had vacated – gleefully, I imagine. I, on the other hand, had to drive up three more levels to find another spot. Oh, well, guess I made their day.

My husband never does this: the second-guessing, the worrying – at least not over parking spots. He approaches such things with a more easy gratitude, I suppose. I, on the other hand, am likely to be suspicious of anything that seems too good to be true. Or to think I do not deserve such good fortune.

I wonder sometimes if God gets frustrated with us for turning down his good gifts: grace, love, faith. They are abundant and free – and so we get a little wary. Perhaps we think: can this really be true? What’s the catch? I think in many ways we all need to learn to practice an easy, calm gratitude toward God, knowing that he is a loving father who wants to give us every good thing.

Yet the opposite can be true, too. How often do we simply take for granted that God will be generous and patient with us?  How often do we rush to resurrection, unwilling to experience death (to self)?

In this Lenten journey I have been slowed down, challenged, made aware of how frail I am. It has increased my understanding of God's great gift of salvation and deepened my awareness that I do not deserve it. I am unworthy; Christ gives his life for me anyway. What is my response to that?

Comprehending the nature of the gift, learning to fathom the price that Jesus paid, leads me to profound humility and gratitude. His road to the cross was not quick or easy. If  I rush to get to the celebration of Easter I might easily ignore or worse, take for granted the pain that preceded it - everything that made it possible for me to have joy.

There are three more days to Lent. Tomorrow is Holy Thursday, the day we celebrate Christ's institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. Then Good Friday, a day of prayer and fasting as we join our sorrow and grief to Jesus' suffering, and honor the cross. And Saturday, the great silent pause where we imagine a world bereft of Christ's presence.

I highly recommend that everyone use these next few days to contemplate the passion of Christ and imagine what the world - and your world - would be like without him. It's not too late to take the slow road to Easter.