Doesn’t Lent consist largely in baring yourself of all that keeps you covered and sheltered from the coming blast for the heat of God’s great love for humanity—which is what we find if we get to Easter prepared?  Yet, I find I  go with some trepidation towards the [figurative] mountain called Lent.  At Lent we want to prepare our hearts and lives so we can be full participants commemorating the greatest activity that happened on planet Earth: Our buying-back on Easter.
Yes, my somewhat trepidation is contradictory. Parts of me-the small, selfish, clingy parts wish to stay put in the circumscribed little orb called myWantsmyDesiresmyLife rather than stretching, reaching towards a full life in Christ (Col 3:3).
It helps me to ask myself questions like this: What does it signify when God provides a substitute for what humanity has ruined and all the while plays by the rules which govern the earth? Doesn’t that spell out “I LOVE YOU” as clearly as possible? In love, there is no force; God does not force any one to approach the mountain, just as He did not compel Abraham.

Once I have dragged myself away from the distractions and from the siren calls of mere organic life, I find God is pleased, but not only that. I also find when I am giving my full attention to the matter of US that God’s also providing for _me_ anyway: “By the way, I have provided the sacrifice in the thicket.”

The fulcrum has tipped. And when I turn back preparing to return to the base of Mt Moriah (figuratively speaking), I wonder why I felt that trepidation initially. Why were my feet were so unwilling to move? What is it that was so important before Lent? Compared to the presence of the Holy Spirit, how pale and watery it all seems.

Genesis 22