Stone's Lenten Reflections

Stone's Lenten Reflections - A Spark

 I’ve never been great at being a righteous man.

I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. But if I’m being honest, I wonder if they still believe in me. If I’ve been written out of The Book of Life already, my name faded from its pages while I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t say this for dramatic effect. It’s just how I feel.

I am a sinner. I’ve made mistakes, carried regrets, held onto burdens that I should have handed over to God long ago. But instead, I let them settle in, take up space, and weigh me down. Guilt. Worry. Stress. A constant sense of loneliness that follows me whether I’m alone or in a crowded room. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, and that’s part of why I want to do this.

This Lent, I want to take a journey – a real, personal, raw one. Each day, I’ll reflect on the daily readings as laid out by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. But I don’t want this to be a sermon or some holier-than-thou preaching. I want this to be honest. Messy. Something that meets me where I am, and maybe meets you where you are, too.

Because the truth is, I’ve felt abandoned by God more times than I can count. When my mother was ravaged by cancer, when my father died just 70 days later of what I can only describe as a broken heart. When my oldest was picked on to the point that he withdrew into himself, then was forced to sit at home for a year and a half due to COVID mandates – while I prayed for a proverbial “win” for him that never came. And now, as I am over 50, mortality whispers a little louder in my ear each day.

I don’t want to stay in this place of feeling lost. I want to move toward something better. A better relationship with God. A better understanding of my faith. A little less doubt, a little more hope.

Lent is about sacrifice, repentance, and preparation for Easter. For me, it’s also about trying to unburden myself, to stop carrying things I was never meant to carry alone. To let go. To give it all up to God.

And if you’ve ever felt forgotten, like you’ve drifted too far, like you’re not quite sure where you stand with faith anymore – maybe this journey is for you, too.

I don’t expect some grand revelation or a perfect ending. But I do hope, by Easter, to feel a little less lost. And if you walk this road with me, maybe you will too.