For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)
As the season of Lent unfolds, it becomes a sacred journey — a time of introspection, repentance and, perhaps most profoundly, an embrace of God's mercy. For Catholics, in particular, Lent holds a unique resonance, inviting us to confront hard truths, to seek forgiveness and to extend compassion not only towards others, but also toward ourselves.
The rituals of this season — the ashes on our foreheads, the solemn processions, the subdued liturgies — all serve as visual and emotional cues, prompting us to reflect on our transgressions and the need for repentance. They are poignant reminders of the human capacity for imperfection — an acknowledgment that we bear the weight of our sins.
Perhaps one of the most challenging aspects of Lent is the call to forgive oneself — a journey laden with emotion and internal strife. We are taught to examine our conscience, to confront our failings and to seek absolution through the sacrament of reconciliation. However, the act of forgiving oneself often proves more elusive, entangled in the complexities of guilt — and shame.
Shame tells us we are not worthy of love — that there is something inherently wrong with us. This is not the case, because more often than not, underneath our deepest shame, there exists wounds. And when our hearts have been wounded, ruptured, shattered, it presents itself as deep shame. That shame can cause us to lash out at others. It may even cause us to turn away from God, when that is the very time we should be seeking Him the most.
When God sees our sin, He sees our pain.
We must remember: Jesus meets us in our deepest shame. He is right there — when we are at our lowest and most unworthy, He loves us through it. He is not ashamed of us. He is not embarrassed by us. It is in these dark places where He is fully present, waiting to bring us back into communion with Him. We only need to take that first step, no matter how hesitant or apprehensive it might be.
The Bible is replete with stories of individuals who experienced shame, remorse and the transformative power of Divine Mercy. One of the most poignant examples is that of King David. In 2 Samuel 11, we learn about David's grave transgressions, including adultery with Bathsheba and orchestrating the death of her husband Uriah. David's actions could have easily consumed him with guilt and shame, but he made a pivotal choice — he turned to God.
In Psalm 51, David pours out his heart in repentance: "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.” These words echo the profound truth that God's mercy is boundless and available to all who seek it. David acknowledges his wrongdoing, but he also trusts in God's willingness to forgive.
That, friends, is the key: We must TRUST in HIS mercy. We must learn from David's example. We must acknowledge our own mistakes and the burdens of shame we carry. We must try to understand that shame is not a divine creation but a human one — a consequence of our fallen nature.
Yet, God's mercy surpasses our flaws and failures.
The sacrament of reconciliation can become a pivotal encounter with God's mercy during Lent. Confession is not a tribunal of judgment. Oh, if only we realized! The confessional is a sacred space where we are invited to lay bare our souls. It becomes a refuge, a place where the burdens of sin are lifted and the balm of forgiveness is applied to wounded spirits. In Psalm 103:12, we are reminded, "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." This verse beautifully encapsulates the depth of God's forgiveness, assuring us that our sins are separated from us by an immeasurable distance. We must never underestimate the power of tears. Tears can become sacred vessels carrying the weight of remorse and the promise of healing grace. In the quiet moments of prayer, as we reflect on our life's journey, tears are not a sign of weakness but an offering — a surrender to vulnerability and a plea for the mercy that transcends human understanding. It is in these tears that the transformative power of God's mercy is most palpable.
My dear friends, Lent — in a way — can become a symphony of grace, weaving together the threads of repentance, mercy and self-forgiveness. Each note, whether whispered in prayer or echoed in the solitude of contemplation, contributes to a melody that resonates with the Divine.
Come. I invite you to participate in this symphony. Allow the transformative power of God's mercy to compose a new narrative of redemption in your life. +
By Andrea DePaola