Sorrowful Joy, Joyful Sorrow

The story of Adam and Eve's fall from grace rings true in a special way for parents.

You put a new carpet in the living room and tell the kids that there is no food or drink in the living room.  Eat in the kitchen, eat in the family room, even take your snacks to the bedroom if you want, but no food in the living room.  Where do find the next empty dish or glass?

You bake a special dessert for relatives that are coming to visit and, as you leave the house, you tell the kids there are lots of things to snack on in the house, but don't touch the cookies cooling on the counter; we're saving them for Aunt Mary and Uncle John.  So how many cookies are missing when you come home?

Few things test juvenile curiosity more than a “Keep Out” or “Don’t Touch” sign.

Frustrating as this might be, when our memories don't fail us and we are honest with ourselves, we remember that we tested our own parents' patience in much the same way.  In fact, we haven't grown up all that much.  We still don't like to obey those limits imposed by others.  When the speed limit is 25, how fast do we drive?  My average is probably about 35 or 40.  Okay, so now we're on a road where the speed limit is 40, how fast do we drive?  I plead the fifth.

Limits:  Our kids don't like to obey them.  We don't like to obey them.  We spend our lives testing them, trying to get around them, trying to eliminate them.  In some sense, this is good. It can lead to discoveries, to advances that would never be possible if someone didn't venture out beyond what others perceived to be an unsurpassable limit.

Lent reminds that there is an absolute limit.  This is the limit of our creatureliness, our nature as finite, created beings.  When we test this ultimate limit, we can only bring ourselves pain and misery, for we separate ourselves from our source, we separate ourselves from the Creator.

Despite aspiring to absolute independence, literally the independence of being my own god, I am always subject to outside influences.  I might like to think I’m “doing it my way” or "being the master of my destiny", but I’m simply choosing which master I will obey - whose limits I should accept.

Do I accept the limits of a mere fellow creature or do I accept the limits of my Creator? True joy and happiness can only be realized if I not only accept, but embrace the limits of my creatureliness, if I accept the fact that as a creature, I have a Creator, a Creator who, as He reveals himself to us in Scripture, loves us with an infinite and unconditional love; subjects himself to testing, torture and death that we might be saved from our own sinful ways; and calls us to love him and love others with our whole hearts, with our whole minds, with our whole strength.

During Lent, we live out dramatic contrasts: the great sorrow at our sins and the incomparable joy of our redemption; the “happy fault” of Adam that leads to such a savior as Jesus Christ; the limits of our creatureliness and the limitless love of our Creator.

We fast to remember the sacrifice Christ endured for us, emptying ourselves to appreciate the fullness of God’s mercy.  We pray for the strength to resist temptation, to thank and praise God for his gracious bounty, and to come closer to our source of joy.  We give alms to share His love and spread the true peace He alone can offer. 

Let the sorrowful joy, the joyful sorrow, of Lent begin.