The first year I observed the season of Lent in a liturgical church, I wasn’t ready to leave the tomb. Through the Scripture readings, I joined the two women on that fateful Easter morning—no doubt disoriented and weighed down by their grief. I entered the tomb alongside them and found it empty. I imagined the cool early morning air held inside its walls, the texture of worn stones, and the stillness. Then I saw the women’s surprise and heard the angel’s words: “Why are you looking among the dead for one who is alive?” (Luke 24:5). I heard the invitation to rise to new life and I answered, “I haven’t had enough time.”

An Ongoing Journey

Lent is a collective journey and we aren’t all moving at the same pace. We often think of Lent only in terms of a defined period, beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter. But we forget that Easter is an entire Church season of its own, even longer than Lent!

Our 40 days in the wilderness prepare us—through prayer, penitence and fasting—to arrive at the beginning of our story on Easter morning. They help us remove distractions and set our focus so we can step into the hope of resurrection. In the days that follow we live into our new reality (Colossians 3:3-4). Each year, moving forward, we begin to see more clearly resurrection threaded through each part of our journey. We can begin to see all of the Scripture readings—and all the varied experiences of our own lives—held together in the new and unending life of Christ.

As we conclude Lent and celebrate Easter, we continue walking alongside one another into the hope of resurrection. But this may look different for each of us. For some, Easter will be a joyful in-breaking of new life. For others resurrection will be a quiet invitation, gently extended and slowly revealed. For each of us, it will take time and practice to live into.

It is worth pausing and reflecting on the journey up to this point to orient ourselves moving forward. Certain events of the gospel story may stand out to us, or prick us, or invite us to stay a little longer. How can we pay attention to God speaking to us through these Scriptures? How can we let the lessons of Lent keep informing our new life in the upcoming days?

Set aside time to reflect on Lent with people in your church. Ask: where did you encounter a strong emotion? Where did the story stop you? What did you experience in a different way this year? Then help them integrate this into their own lives. Ask: what is this telling you about your personal journey? What is Lent showing you about your own experiences? How is Christ inviting you to encounter the resurrection in this specific area? How is Christ’s resurrection present with you right now?

Practicing Resurrection

Several years after my first liturgical cycle, I felt God inviting me to make “resurrection” my Lenten practice. I decided to make living into the promise of new and unending life my spiritual discipline. It was time to participate in this aspect of the story—and recognize how Jesus’ resurrection informs all the other parts of the journey. This is the work of a lifetime. It is perhaps best articulated by the poet and farmer Wendell Berry in his phrase “practice resurrection.” Like farming, it requires seeing the potential for new life in every season. It involves patience, habit and nurture—maintaining hope in what is still unseen.

Practicing resurrection means I don’t have to hurry out of the tomb, because life in Christ is always present. Even my suffering makes way for the eternal: “For we fix our attention, not on things that are seen, but on things that are unseen. What can be seen lasts only a time, but what cannot be seen lasts forever” (2 Corinthians 4:18). Through every season God’s promise of restoration is carrying through: “‘There will be no more death, no more grief or crying or pain. The old things have disappeared.’ … ‘And now I make all things new!’” (Revelation 21:4b, 5a).

Encountering Resurrection

This year I entered into Holy Week with a new set of losses, but through my previous Lenten practice I was ready to also see the potential for new life.

When I arrive at the tomb on Easter morning, I hope to hear the angel’s words—“Why are you looking among the dead for one who is alive?”—as an invitation to see life exactly where I am, in all the experiences that have preceded, and in the journey up ahead. I hope to realize this invitation isn’t limited to Easter morning, but is a continuation of my practices throughout the whole year. That Christ’s resurrection—the first fruits of new life—is present in the ashes of Ash Wednesday, the testing in the wilderness, the suffering of the cross and in each day that follows. I hope to hear the angel’s words and answer, “I’ve already seen the risen Christ. He has brought life into my suffering—I am ready to rise again.”