In this Lenten moment it seems especially relevant and rich in symbolism. It’s almost like we need to write a eulogy for ourselves each Lent and publish it somewhere. An albeit imperfect list of things that needs to die in me. Dennis died to his fears, his shame, his insecurities, his need to be right, his need to be noticed. Dennis died to his self-righteousness, his racism, his failure to see Christ in each stranger he met. Dennis died to his impatience and pride.
“Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him.”
Unless the seed dies
What are you afraid of?
What are you holding onto?
What are you holding on for?
Let all things be,
let them be right there,
without having to hang onto them.
The last thing you let go of is your
self. This hard-shelled seed of who you are
you are trying so hard to build up
into something great and false.
Trying to build a fruit tree
out of sticks.
Let it go. Each moment, each breath,
surrender your favorite self.
Let it fall
into the earth of our being, the home
of our bones. All of our falling
is into God.
When at last the fist of your life
is opened, the grave of your heart
dug deep enough, and empty,
when you let the breathing darkness
and your unguarded nothingness
spill into each other
then something miraculous grows in you,
and out through every pore,
to the edge of the world:
a completely new and different life,
begotten, not made, that gives life,
that doesn’t look like a seed at all.
You don’t need to hang onto it.
It can’t be killed. Its roots
are in God.
Steve Garnaas-Holmes