I did not grow up in a liturgical tradition, but I can still recall the purple cloth draped over the wooden cross on a church near my childhood home. In the final months of winter as spring beckoned, the richness of the dyed fabric, in all its majesty and sorrow, elicited curiosity in my young mind. Why was this regal relic braving the cold, only to be cast off at Easter and replaced with a flowing white alternative?

In recent years, I have become more acquainted with the liturgical seasons of the Church and their accompanying colors, as my husband is now what Jane Austen would call, a “Clergyman.” I still have a great deal to learn about leaning into the richness and rhythm the Church calendar offers, but the more I enter in, the more I see it as a gift.  

It is a gift to the Church, to all of us - a reminder that we live in the Kingdom of God, governed not by man, but by God; ordered not by anxiety, but by the Prince of Peace; mitigated not by false hope, but by Hope himself.

The season of Lent is part of this gift.  

The duality of purpose in the color purple during the season of Lent is as beautiful and juxtaposed as the fasting that accompanies it and the feasting that follows. On the one hand the Church is draped in purple because it signifies mourning. We mourn for the day we know is coming, when we remember Christ crucified, the perfect one who suffered under the weight of our sin. And yet, even in our mourning, we know our story does not end with Christ crucified, but with death conquered and Christ risen. Only the sovereign King of the universe can do such a thing; and thus, we also clothe our Church in purple to signify Christ’s royalty as King and his coming resurrection at Easter.

The color purple, in its complexity of meaning, reflects something of the complexity we face in this season of Lent. As we lean into Christ, mourning over sin and clearing the clutter of our hearts, we also anticipate the coming feast.

Have you ever attended a dinner party in which it is exceptionally clear that the host put their heart into preparing this place for you?  The atmosphere, the food, the warmth of fellowship so rich that you know unequivocally the host has gone to great lengths to make ready your seat at the table? The host’s gladness at your presence assures you that you are wholly welcomed.

What would it be like to engage in Lent as though we are preparing to attend this meal? What would it be like to engage in Lent as intentional preparation to dine with the King? Perhaps, we would get a taste of the coming Kingdom, and the Kingdom come.  

To encounter the mercy of the suffering servant, to fast in the presence of the decadent one, to pray in a posture of expectation, these are the invitations of the season of Lent. These are the precepts of the purple cloth.

This Lenten season as we lay a purple cloth across our wooden tables and wait for the coming feast of Easter, may we taste and see that the Lord is good.  As we mourn, may we also prepare to rejoice. As we anticipate the Easter feast, may we remember that the table has been set with great care, and at great cost, by the Host himself, the coming King.

Katie Setterberg is a mother of three, licensed professional counselor, and children’s book author. She enjoys good coffee, bookshops, and the extraordinary beauty of ordinary days. Katie is married to a priest, the Anglican kind, and has been befriended by the liturgical Church in all of its beauty and quirks. Katie seeks to write meaningful words for adults as well as children, but is primarily immersed in the world of Children’s books as she expects to release her first picture book, From Your Head to Your Toes, sometime this year.