From Ashes to Adoration: A Lenten Journey

Lent this year started off with something kind of unexpected—and honestly, pretty refreshing. Ash Wednesday isn't a Holy Day of Obligation, but you wouldn't have known that if you walked into our parish that evening. Three-quarters full on a Wednesday night? That felt good. There's something powerful about seeing the Church come alive, even midweek, even when no one has to be there.

But then, the following Friday came along—Stations of the Cross—and, well... not quite the same crowd. I’m not saying I was counting heads, but let’s just say the contrast was noticeable. Still, I get it. Before I really understood why we do Stations, I wasn’t showing up either. But once it clicked—not just in my head but in my heart—it became something I couldn’t miss. There’s a depth there that you can’t explain until you’ve lived it, walked it, prayed it.

“There is no practice more profitable for the entire sanctification of the soul than the frequent meditation of the sufferings of Jesus Christ.”
— St. Alphonsus Liguori

And yet, it hit me hard this year how few of our youth were present. At least at our parish. One Friday, they led the Stations—beautifully, by the way. Another Friday, they had a movie night, which is fine. I’m not knocking fun; I know youth groups need to be engaging. But every other Friday? Not much participation. Not even from the leaders or the parents. Why is that?

Is it because it’s not “fun”? Is it “boring”? Maybe to some, yeah. But it doesn’t have to be. There has to be a balance between formation and fun—between dodgeball and discipleship. We need to show them that faith isn't just serious—it’s alive. That it’s not just about memorizing prayers or checking boxes. It's about encountering Christ—and falling in love with Him.

“Families must become the first and best educators in faith. If young people are to fall in love with Christ, they must first meet Him in the love, prayer, and example of their homes.”
— St. John Paul II

What if our youth were trained and encouraged to lector, to serve at the altar, to be extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion? What if they helped host post-Mass events—car washes, pancake breakfasts, BBQs? What if we invited them into a rhythm of faith that’s both meaningful and magnetic? They need that invitation. They deserve it.

This Lent, our parish also took a big step and tried something new—23-hour Adoration. (Why not 24? Well, let’s just say math isn’t always my strong suit—different story for another time.) But we got enough volunteers, which was amazing. Amy and I took the early hours—1 to 4 a.m. Yep. Not exactly the prime time slot. We weren’t trying to be saints or martyrs—we were just trying to help out.

At first, I honestly thought it would be brutal. Three hours in the middle of the night? Not exactly a breeze. But something happened. In that silence, in that stillness before the Blessed Sacrament, I began to see myself. And what I saw wasn’t great.

I realized I’ve been bitter.

Not angry. Not resentful to the point of hatred. But bitter—quietly, steadily, almost invisibly. Things haven’t gone according to my plan in some parts of life lately, and I guess that settled into my spirit more than I’d realized. I wouldn’t have even seen it if I hadn’t been sitting there week after week, face to face with Jesus, hour after hour, doing nothing but being present. Praying. Listening.

“When we are before the Blessed Sacrament... let us open our heart; our good God will open His. We shall go to Him; He will come to us; the one to ask, the other to receive. It will be like a breath from one to the other.”
— St. John Vianney

And wow—once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

That’s the power of Adoration. It’s not flashy. It’s not noisy. But it will change you—if you let it. I started to look forward to those 3 hours. Seriously. One week, I woke up in a full-blown panic on Thursday night thinking it was already Saturday morning and we were late. Full-on, heart-racing, sheet-tossing panic. Turns out it was only Friday morning. But that tells you something, doesn’t it?

And it wasn’t just me and Amy. Many of the Adorers shared how their faith and love for Christ has grown exponentially over these past six weeks. People spoke of a peace they hadn’t known before, a closeness to the Lord they didn’t expect to find in the middle of the night in a quiet chapel. Several said they’ll deeply miss our Friday/Saturday Adoration. Honestly, we feel the same way. It’s been such a beautiful time—a hidden treasure in the rhythm of Lent.

“The time you spend with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the best time you will spend on earth.”
— St. Teresa of Calcutta

Lent isn’t always about giving up sweets or swearing off social media. Sometimes it's about surrendering our control, our expectations, our timeline. Sometimes it’s about just showing up—especially when it’s inconvenient. And sometimes, it’s in that inconvenience where Christ does His best work.

So yeah, Lent was hard this year. But it was also holy. And I wouldn't trade those 3 hours—or that painful but healing revelation—for anything.

And maybe next year, we'll aim for a full 24 hours of Adoration... assuming I get the math right this time.

God Bless