He started out in a procession, ended up on a tree, and defied the tomb. Surely I can refrain from eating chocolate just a few days more ...
Prayer #107: Hair Shirt
I should have just gone for the hair shirt.
I keep making a big show of my sacrifices, moaning and groaning every time I do manage to stick to them. I hold my hand to my brow, and in my best diva voice, I exclaim that I've never known suffering until this year, never known true want or pain.
A hair shirt would have been more honest. Not only would it have eliminated my boasts, but it would have left me itchy all the time -- itchy on the outside, rather than the inside.
For how can I in comfortable faith listen to Your Passion and claim to have one of my own? It diminishes Your gift. It overlooks Your human fear. It trivializes Your divine resolve.
I've never once followed through on a promise like You delivered on Yours. Not even that time I vowed to get a hair shirt.
Thank you for being nothing like me, Lord. Otherwise, we'd have several thousand years of whining ... and a very itchy eternity.