smelly fish

So I bought some fresh, wild-caught fish. I had great intentions to season it, bake it, and eat it with a side of Caribbean-style fried rice, and steamed veggies. How tender and flavorful the fish would be, I imagined in my head as I unloaded my groceries. I counted down the days until the date marked with the meal plan of "fish, rice, & veggies" arrived. Finally.

And then E opened the fish package. 

I about died.

Perhaps my dramatic side is taking over the realistic side of me which recognizes death did not ensue smelling the fish. But in all honesty, the fish smelled terrible. And the stench seeped into the fabric on my furniture, my clothing in my closet, and my pores. Nasty.

 

Part of me wanted to just throw it away, pretending I never bought it in the first place. Another part of me wanted to mask the smell with a strong air freshener. I almost forgot the original inspiration of a delectable meal.

Having fish as a meal is kind of like the Lenten journey. The forty days leading up to Easter is the journey of preparation and repentance. The nasty smell of the fish rooted deep in our hearts leads us to repent and mourn the darkness of our hearts. A space in time, dates on a calendar, to intentionally rip back the plastic package and acknowledge the stench deep within us. We recognize the depravity, the doubt, the despair, and the deficiency within us. The point is to take stock of our lives and reorient life God-ward. And this forty day wilderness-like experience shakes us, makes us uncomfortable and exposes the layers of "self" beneath the surface. The difficulty of Lent tempts one to pretend Ash Wednesday never happened, just as we wish to pretend the fish was never bought in the first place. The process of light, the True Light, exposing the darkness and backwards-ness of our lives is unpleasant at times. It's especially unpleasant as the internal work permeates every area of our lives, despite the many air-fresheners, masks, and band-aids we use. Lent is first and foremost about the Gospel making its way deeper into our lives, seeping into our homes, our outward appearances, our relationships, and our very souls.

And throughout the forty days, we wait, we seek, and we anticipate the meal, the taste, the smell, the beauty. Oh, how we hope! The delicious fish meal that is to come has nothing to do with the initial nasty smell or the spices I used to season the fish. The Easter celebration is not about our discipline, diligence, or dedication, but about God.  Easter is the dramatic climax of the greatest story: the incarnate God-man died on the cross so that through His death and resurrection He might destroy Satan, sin, and death!

May you purchase some fresh, wild-caught fish and enter into this season of Lent. May you peel back that which gets in the way of you seeing and smelling your life and priorities as they really are. May you prepare and repent and wait, because Easter is coming! Gladly anticipate the deliciousness of the meal! Immerse yourself in this journey and rejoice in the Light that shines in our dark, smelly selves. 

the cold season

I look through the window and it's falling again. That blasted precipitation composed of small ice particles has found its home here. I feel like Mr. Tumnus as I sigh and mutter under my breath, "Always winter, never Christmas."

You see, Christmas is that beauty a midst the bitter cold. Despite the broken, messed up reality of this earth, the Almighty clothed Himself in flesh...beauty a midst the bitter cold. 

But it's March. And winter is still here, in full force. 

I despise winter. 

What is it I have against winter? Perhaps it's the temperature, which seems to stay below freezing most days. Or it could be the wind that howls through my drafty window as I try to sleep. It may be the salt stains on my boots. Perhaps I dislike winter because I have a car and thus a long list of winter duties: scrape the windshield, kick the accumulations of salt and snow near my tires, drive on slippery roads, wait patiently for the heater to work. 

Sure I can wear boots and scarves, drink hot beverages, go iceskating, and build snowmen, but the longevity of this season is irritating. 

Contrary to my beloved islander's optimism, it's quite possible winter will never end in this tundra land. Every year, beginning in October, the cold lasts until at least April. And so I sit here, staring through the window.

And I remember, spring will come. Yes it's winter now and it seems like it's an eternal punishment, but just as winter is real, so is spring. Spring is the evidence of God working in a dark, drab world. But spring is seen through a wintery lens.

There must be winter, or else spring wouldn't as pleasant. There must be adversity to appreciate prosperity. There must be cold to appreciate heat. There must be ice skating rinks to appreciate swimming pools. There must be empty trees to appreciate new buds. There must be hot tea to appreciate ice cold lemonade. There must be parkas to appreciate tank tops. There must be death to appreciate life. There must be boots to appreciate flip flops. There must be chaos to appreciate peace. There must be darkness to appreciate light. 

We all have winter, somewhere deep within us. That thing we despise, the thing that threatens to freeze the softness, the thing that festers our fears. Winter exists within us. And initially the snowfall is beautiful, but after a few minutes, the frostbite sets in and we get impatient. And there are days that get so cold, it seems as though it will always be winter. We don't like what is, and so we long for spring. 

I'm tempted to stay in this longing, disdaining my current reality, dreaming for something warmer to come.

But tonight, in light of the truth that seasons come and seasons go, I'm going to neither hate the winter, nor idolize the spring. Instead, I'll celebrate the present. I'll open my eyes to the goodness, the Christmas in this seemingly never ending winter. It may not be my favorite season or weather, but it's God's sovereignty over all seasons, and He's good.