It’s late and the night is quiet beyond the hum of my computer. I’m tired after a long day at work. My typing is tentative on a blank WordPress page. I’m afraid to pollute this night with frivolous words. Do you think it’s possible can I bring reverence to a blog post?
It’s Good Friday by the Russian Orthodox calendar here in Moscow. The sky was low and dark today – all the snow is melting, leaving the ground raw with black mud and garbage.
It’s as if the Lent season is reflected out in the Moscow streets and courtyards. Now that the winter snow has been stripped away you can see the city’s sludge-covered concrete bones laid bare, dripping with the piled-up layers of cigarette butts, dog waste, pigeon carcasses, trampled cardboard and toxic slime.
That’s what the Lent season does – repentance strips away all the flimsy, prideful covers I build up for myself, revealing the ugly mess underneath.
“Lent gives me this gift: the deeper I know the pit of my sin, the deeper I’ll drink from the draughts of joy.
Grief is what cultivates the soil for the seeds of joy.
She who knows her sins much, loves much, and the road to heaven is paved with the realization that I deserve hell. His rising will be all my joy, because I know it in the marrow of the bones: He is all my hope.” -Ann Voskamp
So now, I’m sitting here raw on Good Friday, thankful for the season of sorrow, and thankful that – in Christ (!) – sorrow always turns into joy in the morning.