Breaking Through

Apr 1

This is a packed week! As I sit down to prepare homilies for Holy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, and Easter Sunday, I find myself staring with a blank mind. My prayer comes quickly and honestly, “Not now, Lord. Take away this dryness. I have homilies to write!”

Spiritual dryness is not new to me. It comes and goes. But when it arrives in a season that seems to demand something, it feels especially unwelcome. I also notice what lies beneath this discomfort. I want to preach well and be remembered for a compelling insight or a moving line. It is that desire that quietly exposes me. My preaching can still become about me.

There is a difference between preaching a message I myself need to hear and preaching for myself. The first is honest and necessary. The second is subtle and self-absorbed. Dryness has a way of revealing that distinction. It strips away the satisfaction of cleverness and leaves me to face my motives. Ultimately, I want to look good.

For years, I have looked for a way around dryness. Some remedy, discipline, or reliable method to break through the dryness. An antibiotic for the soul, or an exercise to get the words moving again. But there isn’t one. Dryness does not yield to technique.

This is the insight of Holy Week.

When I have exhausted my own resources. When I have pulled every lever, pushed every button, tried every approach, and still find myself empty, God is not distant.

When I am stuck, God is close.

The dryness I resist may be the very place where Christ is most present, not because I feel Him, but because I no longer have anything of my own to rely on.

Dryness is an Easter miracle. When our abilities fall short, we are left with the simplest and most honest prayer:

“Here I am Lord, I need you.”