SOCL, Lent3C
- Admin
- Mar 22
- 2 min read
Updated: Mar 31
Sunday March 23, 2025
Breaking the myth of deserved suffering
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We cling to cause-and-effect explanations for tragedy—believing those Galileans must have sinned greatly, that the crushed victims somehow deserved it—because randomness terrifies us more than judgment. This psychological defense mechanism creates the comforting illusion that good behavior guarantees safety. Meanwhile, fig trees stand barren in our lives: relationships without intimacy, careers without purpose, minds full of knowledge that never transforms action. We demand immediate results while nature whispers of slow cultivation and patience.
The gardener sees beyond current barrenness to potential abundance, demanding nothing but time and attention—the very resources we're most reluctant to invest. Our modern efficiency cuts down what doesn't immediately produce, replacing the organic with the instantaneous. Yet our deepest transformations happen underground, invisible to metrics and quarterly reviews.
What if unproductive seasons aren't failures but necessary dormancy? The soil around us is being turned, uncomfortable but essential. The fertilizer smells of disappointment and limitation. But something unseen is happening beneath the surface where roots stretch toward what sustains them—not despite the darkness, but because of it.
Listen
Reflect
(Luke 13:1-9)
When confronted with others' suffering, notice your instinct to explain it away—what uncomfortable questions emerge when you abandon the belief that pain must be deserved?
Jesus challenges our rush to judgment and quick solutions—how might patiently "cultivating the ground" around your challenges reveal possibilities invisible to immediate analysis?
Consider the areas of your life appearing fruitless despite your efforts—what hidden growth might already be occurring beneath the visible surface of your struggles?
Pray
Lord, your timing transcends our urgent demands. Turn the soil of our rigid expectations. Nourish the roots of our withered hopes. Grant us courage to trust the slow, invisible work happening beneath our struggles. Transform our impatience into attentive presence that recognizes potential where others see only failure.
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