About a month ago, I noticed that the light on our stove that tells us the surface is hot was always lit. It glowed red night and day, regardless of the temperature of the burners.
Nothing lasts forever, and certainly not appliances these days. Everything else seemed to be working, so I shrugged and ignored it.
Then one night I realized that the pot of water I had been trying to boil for ages on the stove was still sitting there quietly, cold and still. I turned the burner underneath it on and off a few times. Sometimes it glowed and felt like it was heating up, and sometimes it didn’t.
Not good.
At first, I thought—or hoped, at least—that maybe the burner was just heating more slowly. For several days I lived in a state of hopeful denial, shuffling pans around the stove to try to get everything heated in time for dinner. I didn’t want to admit defeat.
But one night, as I was scrambling to get dinner ready—and I really needed to use four working burners—I finally had to admit the game was over. The burner wasn’t producing any heat at all.
If you can’t rely on a stove to heat your food, you don’t have a working stove.
Still, the little red light continues to shine, proclaiming, “Hot cooktop,” at all hours of the day and night, even though the burner beside it is, sadly, anything but hot.
That little glowing light seems to be nudging me to get ready for Lent this year. To the outside world, we might look like everything is working just fine—we are living our faith, paddling purposefully through life, greeting each day with a hot cooktop.
But these are trying times. And, as we pray for our ailing Holy Father, balance all that ordinary life asks of us, and navigate the discord and conflict and change around us, we might realize that our faith lives would benefit from a little extra attention and repair.
Some days we might have the fuel within us to do everything life asks of us. Some days we might feel a little emptier.
Here comes Lent. God gives us this season not just to reflect on Jesus’ life, suffering, and sacrifice for us, but also to offer us a chance to lean on him, to walk with him, and to find ways to open ourselves up to his love.
As we head toward Ash Wednesday on March 5, we have a beautiful opportunity to think about what is working and what is not working. Where do we want to grow? What are we longing for most? How can we respond to God’s loving invitation to empty ourselves of what doesn’t matter so he can refill and replenish us with what we need?
These days leading up to Lent offer a beautiful time to consider how we might create more space and time for quiet, for reflection, for prayer, and for opportunities to experience God’s love and the abundant joy he wants for us.
“Let us stir up our hearts, rekindle our faith, and long eagerly for what heaven has in store for us,” said St. Gregory the Great. “To love thus is to be already on our way.”
Lent is not an assignment or an obligation. It’s a loving invitation to allow ourselves to grow in our relationship with Jesus. Then our light truly can shine—fueled by the love and faith that can carry us through both the joyful and the challenging times.
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