To be Met
"But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. - Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18
Ash Wednesday carries a quiet paradox. While ashes are made visible, the true invitation of this season is a hidden, inward one. In today’s Gospel, Jesus does not dismiss the practice. Rather, he seems to safeguard its core meaning and protect its heart.
Lent is an invitation to be okay with not being okay. It is a time to cultivate our hearts. It calls us to sit down with who we are before God. The outward symbol of the ashes serves merely as a doorway. The inner room that Jesus speaks of is the place where no one is watching, and nothing needs to be performed. It is there that genuine humility takes root, sincerity flourishes, and our small, hidden acts become prayer.
This year, I come to the ashes aware of how much I have been carrying. There are wounds I wish I could mend, grief that lingers, a weariness from watching our country pull at its own seams, and the tension of wanting to stay tender in a world that can harden quickly. Ash Wednesday does not ask me to make any of it visible. It invites me to carry it before God.
Lately, I’ve been recalling an evening with my four-year-old goddaughter when a peaceful day ended with slime tangled in her hair. Her mom and I patiently removed it, laughing at the memorable ending to an otherwise calm day. Once free of the slime, my goddaughter grew quiet, reflecting on the incident.
I knelt beside her and said, “Hey, sweetie. I know that was a lot. You are so brave. I love you, and I’m here.” I held her for a moment, and the tenderness in her eyes remained a vivid memory before she returned to her normal self, running around and laughing again.
She did not need to explain what she felt. She just needed to be met. And sometimes, I wonder if that is what the inner room is meant to be, a daily practice of quiet presence where I allow myself to be seen, where God looks at me with a compassionate gaze. Where what felt like a lot is gently acknowledged. And I remember I am not alone.
Lord, please meet me in the hidden room of my heart, hold what feels like a lot, and remind me that I am not alone, for I am with You.
Tam Lontok