Last year was the first season of Lent I ever observed. I didn't feel as if I embraced it as whole-heartedly as I was hoping to or thought I would, but then again, in all of my 28 year Christian existence it was the first time I had ever tried. I grew up in a very godly, very spiritually-sound, very devout, and very PROTESTANT Christian home. My family and my family's roots were from the southern-most parts of Alabama, and well, let's just say anything remotely resembling a Catholic rite was less than warmly embraced or encouraged in my family. Lent was one such discouraged rite.
So, whether it was Lent, Advent, Ash Wednesday, or any other mysterious Catholic tradition, we looked down our righteous Protestant noses at anything that smacked of Catholicism and its meaningless, obligatory acts. Once I was actually taught at Trinity the significance and the beauty in these events, nothing could have been further from the truth.
I found last year that what I was able to learn and observe in the Lenten (spell?) season was my first concrete experience that allowed me to own my salvation. To retreat to and enter into a proverbial desert place with Jesus, to be tempted, to be tried and tested, and as a result to know my Savior all the more. Prayer and fasting were always two concepts held in the highest regard in my Protestant fortress of seclusion, but rarely was there ever any practical example given to the body as to how to really partake of these blessed sacraments.
Lent is teaching me to do just that. To consecrate and concentrate on Jesus, his life, his death, and his resurrection. To celebrate with new found joy on Easter morning when we shout and proclaim the life he in turn gave freely to us. True Lent is nothing like the religious zombie motions that I thought people did to earn heavenly brownie points or put a check mark in a check box of spiritual obligations. Lent to me is now a time of finding myself -- and finding that my Savior is with me.