At the beginning of the Lenten season, I remember being so anxious about the future and so lost in the spiritual life. I knew I was holding onto so many things and was unwilling to let them go. The Sunday after Ash Wednesday, I made a mini-pilgrimage to a beautiful church, and upon entering the grand old structure, the classic beginning-of-Lent verse struck me in a way that challenged how I was living my life up until that point: Return to Me with your whole heart.
“Yet even now—says the Lord—return to Me with your whole heart, with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the Lord, your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and relenting in punishment.”
-Joel 2:12-13
The Lord was asking me, as He asks all of us, to give Him my heart and everything entangled in it—my hopes, dreams, desires, wounds, failures, sufferings—all of it. I set out thinking I simply needed to surrender my heart to the Lord, trusting that He would take care of it. Naturally, things were not that simple, and my Lenten resolution became harder as the days went on. But if I thought the day-to-day of the first couple of weeks was hard, I had another thing coming.
When all of this COVID-19 garbage really hit, about 2 weeks ago, I remember someone talking about it in reference to the current liturgical season, noting that we are being stripped and pruned of everything. Stripped? Pruned? Those don’t sound like fun words…and they’re not, really. I suppose when the Lord said, “Return to Me with your whole heart,” He wasn’t joking. In the past two weeks I have been separated from my friends, removed from my apartment (by circumstances, not the university), stripped of the Eucharist, and robbed of a normal conclusion to senior year, including a commencement ceremony. Life as I knew it was gone in the blink of an eye, and the free-fall I have been experiencing for the past 6 months became all the more intense. Everything I had gripped onto with white knuckles: POOF. Gone.
Last week, I was praying with John 15. I didn’t seek it out specifically, but a Lenten devotional I have been praying through called for some meditation on verses 1-11. I didn’t have to go far before reading,
“Every branch of Mine that bears no fruit, He takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.”
-John 15:2
Every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. This is partially consoling, right? If we are experiencing a time of pruning, that means, at one point, we were bearing fruit. But He desires more for us. He wants us to bear even more fruit. If plants had feelings, I would guess that the pruning process would be a painful one. But that’s what Lent is for. We give up things that are dear to us so that we may more clearly recognize our need for God and run to Him with our whole hearts. He has allowed this Lent to be taken to quite the extreme, to the point where things were taken from us—rather than given up voluntarily—including the ability to worship the Lord within the context of participation in the Holy Mass. Through it all, though, He is revealing to us how much we need Him, and He is giving us the opportunity to find new ways to show Him how much we love Him—not for His sake, but for ours.
“He who remains in Me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from Me, you can do nothing…remain in My love.”
-John 15:5, 9
How have you been stripped and pruned this Lenten season? Have you recoiled in pain, or run to the Lord with more love, vigor, and courage? We only have a week and a half left of Lent—how will you spend it? The Resurrection is coming, and though it may not feel like Easter, it’s a great reminder that one day there will be a resurrection from this pandemic. And, one day, we too hope to rise to spend all eternity in Paradise with the One who loves us. Let us continue to be courageous and hopeful, dear friends!
“In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world.”
-John 16:33