“What are you doing for Lent?”
asked Paul last night.
That’s a really good question
and I have already spent quite some time
thinking about it
but so far
I’ve been unable to decide.

Each year I look forward to Lent
with a mixture of eagerness
and trepidation.
I find myself full of good intentions,
absolutely convinced
that by the end of Lent
I’ll be so much closer to My God.

But each year
I fall flat on my face.
My plans to abstain from tea, coffee
and all manner of sweet things
fade away,
faced down by St Patrick’s day, Mothers’ day,
not to even mention birthdays!

Each year
I find Lent to be
a truly humbling experience.

Today
after the Morning Service
at St Anne’s Cathedral
the Dean, John Mann,
gives me a copy of a book
that he, himself, has written.
It’s called Lent with St John’s Gospel.

I feel as if My God is saying to me,
“Claire,
why not try
something totally different this year?
I’ll help you!”

I’m delighted
and find that now
I’m really looking forward to Lent,
hoping that this year,
by the time Easter comes,
I’ll be even closer
to My God.

© Claire Murray, 9/2/16

Lord,
my Lent this year
was, by and large,
a disaster
and as Easter Sunday approaches
I’m very much aware
that I fell well short of the mark.
I feel ashamed
and I long for forgiveness.

I know
that in the days to come
I will read about the way
that you appeared
to bewildered disciples
who felt wracked with guilt.

I will read about
the first words that you spoke to them –
“Peace be with you”,
offering forgiveness
instead of reproaches.

Lord,
in this season of Lent
open my heart to hear
your words of forgiveness.
Help me to forgive myself
in the same way
that you have already
forgiven me.

© Claire Murray (4th April 2015)

Mammy sometimes says,
“If you want to give God
a good laugh
tell him what your plans are!”
And I think
that there’s a lot of truth
in that.

This year,
when Lent began,
I had P L A N S,
so many small sacrifices
that I was determined to make,
so much extra time
that I was going to spend
in prayer.

In the end
my efforts were futile
and I made a sad discovery about myself –
that I am skilled in the art
of making excuses.

On this Good Friday morning
I find that I identify so strongly
with St Peter
who pledged undying loyalty to Jesus
proudly declaring
that he would face death
rather than deny Jesus.

St Peter failed to deliver
on his promises.
And so did I.

Lord,
looking back on Lent
I feel ashamed
and unworthy.
My plans for Lent came, yet again,
to nothing.
Today, on Good Friday,
help me to make the most
of these final days of Lent.
Help me to surrender, at last,
to your plans
for me.

© Claire Murray (3rd April 2015)

At the Vigil Mass
for Palm Sunday
I hear a tale
of betrayal and suffering,
crowd manipulation and mass hysteria,
cruelty and torture
and self-sacrifice.

I am unmoved.

During the Consecration
Fr Thomas raises the host
and I look up towards the altar
trying to glimpse the Body of Christ.
Tonight my view is unobstructed
and I can see Fr Thomas clearly.

I am shocked.

Fr Thomas stands on the altar,
a striking figure
in crimson vestments,
his arms raised to display
the Body of Christ.

I suddenly dawns on me
that Fr Thomas is wearing these vestments
because they are
as red as blood,
as red of the blood of Christ.

This thought hits me forcefully
and I stare at Fr Thomas
in disbelief,
appalled, shocked
and deeply saddened.

And yet, in a strange way,
I welcome these emotions
which bring to life again once more
the story of Jesus’ passion,
reminding me
that Fr Thomas’ vestments
are as red as the blood of Christ
that was shed
for me.

© Claire Murray, 31st March 2015

Each year
as Lent approaches
my mind usually focuses
on temptations that I anticipate
as I prepare to embark
on six long weeks
without coffee, chocolate and sweets.

But this year
as Lent approaches
I remember
that when Jesus was tempted in the desert
he was tempted in many different ways
and I wonder in what variety of ways
I might be tempted?

Will I be tempted
to ignore the fact
that I have not truly forgiven
people who have hurt me in the past?
Will I be tempted
to justify grudges that I bear,
telling myself
that I can’t possibly be expected
to wipe the slate clean,
to act as if nothing had ever happened?

Will I be tempted
to be less than gracious
when an apology is offered
for an offence committed?

Will I be tempted
to abandon myself
to a sense of helplessness
and despair
when faced with a situation
which I am powerless to control
instead of entrusting the situation
to the loving care
of my all-powerful God?

As Lent approaches,
I’m aware
of tremendous potential for temptation
and I wonder
whether I will choose
to give in to temptation
or to draw closer to My God?

© Claire Murray, 17th Feb 2015

Lord,
for a long, long time
I have thought
that one of the most hurtful things
in the world
is for people to laugh at you.

Often,
when I think about your Passion,
I wonder which hurt you more –
the physical pain
of your torture and execution
or being made look like a fool
in front of thousands of people?
Crowds jeered
when they saw you standing,
bruised, bloodied,
trembling with pain
and dressed up
as a farce of a king,
wearing a fine cloak,
thorns for a crown
and a twig as a staff.
You were portrayed publically
as a fool ,
an object of ridicule,
the butt of Pilate’s cruel joke.

Lord,
which hurt you more –
your aching body
or your broken heart?
And how were you ever able
to forgive Pilate
for making a holy show of you?

“Claire,
you ask some difficult questions!
You’re asking me which hurt more,
the physical pain
or the public humiliation?
I already knew
just how cruel people could be
and how weak
even the best-intentioned friend could be.
So the answer to your question is –
neither.
I would have endured all of that pain
a thousand times over
for love of my Father
and for love of mankind.

“What caused me the deepest pain
was the feeling, on the cross,
of having been forsaken by my Father.
That feeling of being abandoned
was worse
than the excruciating physical pain
and the mental anguish
combined.

“But you also ask me
about Pontius.
Believe it or not,
Pontius was actually my strongest ally.
He tried to save me from death
by turning me into a laughing stock.
So don’t be too hard on Pontius;
he was only being cruel
to be kind.”

© Claire Murray, 22nd April 2014

During Holy Week
I find myself looking back over my Lent
and I am unimpressed.
I have broken my Lent
so many times
and if I’m really honest with myself
I don’t believe
that I took it seriously.
My effort is pitiful.
I feel disappointed with myself
and deeply humbled
by my own weakness.

I feel like a failure.

I sense the My God speaking to me,
asking, gently,
“So, you see yourself as a failure?
Would you like me to tell you what I see?”
I nod.

My God answers:

“I see a woman
who tried to give up
some of her favourite treats for me
and struggled.
She now has a much greater sense
of her own weaknesses
and she is a humbler person
for the experience.

“I see a woman
who has been honest enough with herself
to admit
that she didn’t take this Lent seriously
and who is already planning
how she can approach Lent next year
in a more mature manner.

“I see a woman
who has been learning the vital importance
of forgiving others
and who has discovered the powerful liberation
that this gives her in return.

“I see a woman
who came to me at the start of Lent
praying that, during Lent,
she would draw closer to me.
She is certainly closer to me now
than she was at the beginning of Lent.

“Claire,
do you think that I see your Lent as a failure?”
I shake my head
and smile.

© Claire Murray, 15 April 2014