So...where are the sandwiches?

It's April. Well, that's not really true, it's March 30th, but for all intents and purposes it's April because there isn't enough March to really count and I have a paycheck in my pocket that is all about April. So, let me begin again...

It's April.

It's not only April, it's lent. Easter is crazy late in the year this year so really we are right smack in the middle of lent. It's in the middle when we forget that it's actually lent. Ash Wednesday is a big day where we reflect on the things that we picked up in the last year; the things that weighed us down and caused us to miss our finish lines. We partied it all out the night before and now we have given up something for the next forty days.

At least that was the plan.

This is that time in the journey where we start to see less and less travelers on the journey with us. We began with a bang, excited about the miracles ahead. But then there was just a lot of walking and, though the road is full of little graces, the miraculous is harder to see. This is the moment were giving up becomes the most tempting. We are closer to what we have left behind than we are to the glories of what is ahead. The past beacons us to the familiar mediocracy of the unexamined life.

Lent isn't about the miracles. It's about the walk.

I often stumble into my lenten journey. I'm not good at deciding what I'm going to give up or add into my life. I get the concept completely. Lent is about reordering ones life to make room for grace. I fill my life with noise and stimulations and worries to the point that I lose time and resources on accomplishing nothing. The Spirit of God calls us in this season to feel everything; hunger and loneliness and quiet. It mirrors the Master's journey toward the cross.

The cross doesn't come without a long walk. In his first few years of ministry, Jesus' life was marked by the incredible. There were healings, and storm-silencing, and the feeding of thousands. The crowds were massive, but Jesus kept retreating to the lonely places. The last year was focused on a small band of brothers. People would even call out to him to do another trick; a "sign," they called it. Jesus refused. He was not here to be the entertainment. The days leading up to the cross were only noted by the wear and tear on his shoe leather.

And the people who shared the road became less and less.

Sometimes in life it is the quiet times that define us rather than the moments we are in the spotlight. We know our goal lies ahead and we are just putting one foot in front of the other. People who were there at the beginning might start to drift away from us, shaking their heads and talking about the once great person who lived in our skin.

But we know we are on a long walk. We know that our glory is ahead.

We also know that it will get darker before we get there.

But no one will stop us from walking.