Lenten Reflection – Day 39 of the Great Lent
Having Nothing, Possessing Everything: 2 Corinthians 6:1-10
“As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.” (6:10)
Thirty-nine days. Eleven days before Resurrection. The fast has been long. The body is lighter. The appetite has been trained. The disciplines that felt impossible in Week 1 have become second nature. The habits of prayer, fasting, and self-examination that required enormous effort on Day 1 are now woven into the rhythm of the day.
And something else has happened. Something harder to name. A kind of emptying. Over thirty-nine days, the fast has taken things away. Comfort. Indulgence. The small pleasures that normally fill the gaps in the day. The noise that covers the silence. The busyness that prevents the stillness. One by one, the fast has removed them. And in the space where they used to be, something unexpected has appeared.
Not emptiness. Fullness.
Today Paul gives language to the paradox. The paradox the entire fast has been building toward without naming it. You have less than you did on Day 1. And you have more. You are poorer than you were before the fast. And you are richer. You have nothing. And you possess everything.
Now Is the Accepted Time (vv. 1–2)
“We then, as workers together with Him also plead with you not to receive the grace of God in vain. For He says: ‘In an acceptable time I have heard you, and in the day of salvation I have helped you.’ Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (6:1–2)
Paul quotes Isaiah 49:8. The promise of a favorable time. A day of salvation. A window in which God’s grace is available and active and waiting to be received.
And then Paul slams the word “now” into the sentence like a fist on a table.
“Behold, NOW is the accepted time. Behold, NOW is the day of salvation.”
Not tomorrow. Not after the fast. Not when you feel ready. Not when the conditions are perfect. Now. Today. This moment. This breath. This day of the fast. Day 39. The window is open. The grace is available. And the clock is ticking.
The Great Lent has a deadline. It is not an open-ended season of improvement. It is walking toward a specific date. A specific week. A specific Friday. A specific Sunday. The Cross and the Resurrection are not abstractions. They are calendar events. And they are approaching.
Paul’s urgency is the urgency of a man who knows the window will not stay open forever. Not because God’s grace runs out. Because human attention does. The capacity to receive what God is offering right now, in this fast, in this particular Lent, at this particular point in your life, is a capacity that this season has been building for thirty-nine days. And if you do not receive it now, the fast will end and the noise will return and the habits will rebuild and the window will feel like it was never open.
“Do not receive the grace of God in vain.”
This is not a threat. It is a plea. Paul is begging. The grace has been given. The Spirit has been poured out (Day 37). The fruit has been growing (Day 38). The presence of Christ has been offered at every table and every pool and every mountain throughout the fast. And the plea is: receive it. Do not let it pass through you without landing. Do not let thirty-nine days of grace wash over you like water over stone. Receive it. Let it soak in. Let it change you. Now. While the fast is still shaping you. While the clay is still soft. While the window is open.
St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 11 on 2 Corinthians, teaches that the “acceptable time” is not merely a chronological moment. It is a condition of the heart. The acceptable time is whenever the heart is open. Whenever the ears are listening. Whenever the hands are unclenched. The fast has been opening the heart for thirty-nine days. And “now” is the moment when the opening is widest. Chrysostom says: do not wait for a more convenient season. There is no more convenient season. The inconvenience of the fast is the convenience of the grace. The very discomfort that makes you want to wait is the condition that makes receiving possible.1
The Paradoxes of Ministry (vv. 3–7)
“We give no offence in anything, that our ministry may not be blamed. But in all things we commend ourselves as ministers of God: in much patience, in tribulations, in needs, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in sleeplessness, in fastings; by purity, by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by the Holy Spirit, by sincere love, by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armour of righteousness on the right hand and on the left.” (6:3–7)
Before the famous paradoxes, Paul establishes the context. He is describing the apostolic life. The life of a person who serves God in the real world. And the description is not glamorous.
Patience. Tribulations. Needs. Distresses. Stripes. Imprisonments. Tumults. Labors. Sleeplessness. Fastings.
This is the curriculum vitae of a servant of God. Not degrees. Not accomplishments. Not positions held. Suffering endured. The list reads like a catalogue of everything we would want to avoid. And Paul says: this is how we commend ourselves. Not by what we have achieved. By what we have survived.
The Lenten fast is a small participation in this list. Not the stripes. Not the imprisonments. But the labors. The sleeplessness (the early morning prayers, the vigils, the nights when the hunger keeps you awake). The fastings. The patience that has been tested every day. The needs that have been felt but not filled. The distresses that the fast has surfaced rather than suppressed.
And then the positive list. Purity. Knowledge. Longsuffering. Kindness. The Holy Spirit. Sincere love. The word of truth. The power of God. The armor of righteousness.
Notice: the Holy Spirit is in the middle of the list. Between kindness and sincere love. Not at the top. Not at the bottom. In the middle. As though the Spirit were the hinge between the virtues on either side. Kindness flows from the Spirit. Sincere love flows from the Spirit. The word of truth and the power of God flow from the Spirit.
On Day 37, the Spirit entered the series as the One who prays in us. On Day 38, the Spirit appeared as the grower of fruit. Today the Spirit appears as the companion of the suffering servant. Present in the tribulations. Present in the sleeplessness. Present in the fastings. Not removing them. Sustaining through them.
The Great Paradoxes (vv. 8–10)
“By honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.” (6:8–10)
Seven paradoxes. Each one a pair of opposites held together in the same life. Each one a contradiction that the world cannot resolve but that the Gospel makes whole.
“As deceivers, and yet true.” The world calls us liars. The Gospel says we speak truth. Both are real. Both happen simultaneously. The person who tells the truth about God will be called a deceiver by the world that has settled for less.
“As unknown, and yet well known.” The apostles were nobodies in the Roman world. Unknown. Unimportant. And yet known by God. Known by the churches they planted. Known by the centuries of believers who would follow. Unknown and well known at the same time.
“As dying, and behold we live.” Every day of the apostolic life was a kind of death. Every day of the Lenten fast has been a kind of death. The denial of the self. The crucifixion of the flesh. And in the dying, life. The paradox of the Cross. Death producing life. The grain of wheat falling into the ground and dying and bearing much fruit.
“As chastened, and yet not killed.” Disciplined. Corrected. Pruned. But not destroyed. The fast has chastened us. Thirty-nine days of pruning. And we are still here. Still breathing. Still standing. Not killed. Chastened. The pruning is not the end. It is the preparation for more fruit.
“As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”
Here it is. The paradox the series has been circling for thirty-nine days.
Sorrowful. The fast has been sorrowful. The self-examination. The confession. The exposure of the things we would rather not see. The giving up. The going without. The long, penitential weeks of looking inward and finding brokenness.
Yet always rejoicing. Aei chairontes. Always. Not occasionally. Not when the fast feels fruitful. Not when the prayer is answered. Always. In the sorrow itself. Through the sorrow. Underneath the sorrow. A joy that is not the opposite of the sorrow but its companion. The joy and the sorrow in the same heart at the same time.
On Day 38, we named the joy the series forgot. Today the joy is not an addition to the fast. It is the hidden dimension of the fast itself. The sorrow and the joy are not sequential (first sorrow, then joy). They are simultaneous. “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.” The yet is the hinge. The pivot point. The word that holds both truths together without resolving them into one.
St. Isaac the Syrian, in his Ascetical Homilies, teaches that the simultaneous experience of sorrow and joy is the sign of genuine spiritual maturity. He calls it “joyful mourning” or “luminous sorrow.” Isaac says the person who can only sorrow has not yet seen God. The person who can only rejoice has not yet seen himself. The mature heart holds both. The tears of repentance and the gladness of grace flowing from the same eyes. At the same time. Without contradiction. Because the sorrow is over sin and the joy is over mercy. And both are real. And both are present. And the heart is large enough for both.2
“As poor, yet making many rich.”
Paul had nothing. No property. No savings. No retirement plan. He made tents to survive. And through his poverty, he made entire cities rich. Not with money. With the Gospel. With the word that transforms. With the presence of Christ communicated through a broke tentmaker who happened to be carrying the treasure of the universe in his earthen vessel (2 Corinthians 4:7).
The fast has made us poor. Thirty-nine days of giving up. Giving away. Going without. And the poverty has made others rich. The person who fasts from food has more to give to the hungry. The person who fasts from entertainment has more time for the lonely. The person who fasts from self-concern has more attention for the suffering. The poverty of the fast is the wealth of the community.
“As having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”
The final paradox. The climax. The destination of the entire passage. The destination of the entire fast.
Having nothing. The fast has been a progressive emptying. Day by day, the fast has taken things away. The rich young ruler’s possessions (Day 25). The unprofitable servant’s claim to merit (Day 26). The flesh’s works (Day 38). The self-sufficiency that says “I can do this on my own.” One by one, stripped. Until what remains is a person with empty hands and an open heart and the Spirit of adoption crying “Abba” in the silence.
Yet possessing all things. Not despite the emptiness. Because of the emptiness. The empty hands are the hands that can receive. The heart that has been cleared of its clutter is the heart that has room for God. The person who has nothing has God. And the person who has God has all things. Because all things were made through Him (John 1:3). And in Him all things hold together (Colossians 1:17). And to have Him is to have everything that exists.
St. Ephrem the Syrian, in his Hymns on Faith, writes about this paradox with the wonder that characterises his best theology. He says the person who has emptied himself during the fast has created a space. And the space is not empty. It is full of God. Ephrem compares the fasting person to a cup that has been poured out. The cup looks empty. But the cup has been poured out so that it can be filled with something better. The water was poured out so the wine could be poured in. The food was given up so the bread of life could be received. The comfort was removed so the Comforter could arrive. Having nothing is not the end. It is the preparation for possessing everything.3
What This Means for Day 39
Eleven days before Pascha. The window is open. The grace is available. And the paradox is at its sharpest.
We have been fasting for thirty-nine days. We are poorer than we were on Day 1. Poorer in comfort. Poorer in indulgence. Poorer in the false securities that normally pad our life. And we are richer than we have ever been.
Richer in awareness of God’s presence (Day 37, the Spirit who prays). Richer in the fruit that has been growing without your noticing (Day 38). Richer in the knowledge of who Christ is (from “a man called Jesus” on Day 35 to “Lord, I believe”). Richer in the understanding that we are a child of God, not a slave (Day 37, the Spirit of adoption). Richer in the freedom that comes from having released the one thing (Day 25). Richer in the sight that comes from having washed in the pool (Day 35).
Having nothing. Possessing everything.
The fast has not taken from us. The fast has exchanged. It took the lesser and gave the greater. It took the food and gave the Bread of Life. It took the comfort and gave the Comforter. It took the noise and gave the silence in which the Spirit groans. It took the fullness of the stomach and gave the fullness of the heart.
The paradox is not comfortable. We cannot stand in both places at once and feel settled. The sorrow is real. The joy is real. The poverty is real. The wealth is real. And the person who lives in the paradox lives in the most honest place in the universe. The place where human emptiness meets divine fullness. The place where the Cross and the Resurrection occupy the same ground.
That place is eleven days away. The Cross is coming. The emptying will reach its ultimate expression on Great Friday when the Son of God is stripped of everything and nailed to wood. And the possessing will reach its ultimate expression on Pascha morning when the empty tomb turns out to be the fullest place in history.
Having nothing. Possessing everything. That is the Gospel in six words. And the fast has been teaching you to live inside those six words for thirty-nine days.
For Our Journey Today
Receive the grace now. Paul says “now is the accepted time.” Not after the fast. Not when we feel ready. Now. Today. Day 39. The window is open. The heart has been softened by thirty-nine days of discipline. The clay is as soft as it will be. Receive what God is offering. Do not wait for a more convenient season. The inconvenience is the convenience.
Hold the paradox. We are sorrowful and rejoicing. We are poor and rich. We have nothing and yet we possess everything. Do not resolve the tension. Live in it. The temptation is to pick one side. To be only sorrowful (and miss the joy) or only joyful (and miss the repentance). Today, hold both. Let the tears and the gladness share the same eyes. That is the sign of spiritual maturity. Not the absence of contradiction. The capacity to hold contradiction without breaking.
Name what you possess. The fast has been about naming what we lack. Today, name what we have. After thirty-nine days of emptying, what has filled the space? More patience? More awareness of God? More compassion for the person next to you? A deeper prayer life? A quieter mind? A softer heart? Name it. Not to boast. To marvel. Because the things that have filled the emptied space were not things we produced. They were things the Spirit grew while we were busy pouring ourselves out. Having nothing. Possessing everything.
Lord Jesus Christ, who had nowhere to lay Your head and yet possessed all things, teach us the paradox today. We have been fasting for thirty-nine days. We are poorer than we were. And we are beginning to suspect that we are richer than we have ever been. The emptying has made room. The hunger has made space. The silence has made a home for Your voice. Thank You for the poverty that produces wealth. For the sorrow that makes room for joy. For the nothing that turns out to be everything. Now is the accepted time. Now is the day of salvation. Do not let us receive this grace in vain. Do not let the fast end without the transformation it was designed to produce. We are sorrowful. And we are rejoicing. We have nothing. And we possess all things. Because we have You. And You are everything. By the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos, the holy Apostle Paul, and all the saints, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
