Ash Wednesday (and sermon prepping) brings me back to the wilderness.
Each year, Lent begins with an invitation into the wilderness — in the reminder that we are dust and with a reflection on the story of Jesus being led by the Spirit into the desert. Jesus’ experience in the wilderness is not exile. It is not punishment. It is not failure.
It is formation.
I’ve been thinking this morning about my own wilderness seasons.
Several years ago, I woke up with a heaviness in my chest I hadn’t felt in a long time. The mental clouds that had been clear for a while were suddenly back. There was no dramatic trigger. My job was steady. I was socializing. I was eating and sleeping. By all visible measures, I was doing okay.
But something had shifted.
And instead of dismissing the feeling — instead of telling myself to push through or shake it off — I got curious. I remember sitting outside with my journal and a cup of coffee and asking God, “Are you leading me into something?”
I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how long it would last. But I sensed that I was being invited not to escape the discomfort, but to stay with it. To let it reveal what was asking to be named, seen, or felt.
Lent brings me back to that posture.
We often talk about Lent as a season of giving things up. But for me, it has rarely been about subtraction. It has been about attention.
Holding on.
Digging in.
Opening up.
The wilderness is not comfortable. It strips away distraction. It exposes hunger. It tests our identity. It challenges our urge to escape.
And yet, the wilderness is also where transformation happens.
Jesus did not leave the desert the same as he entered it. Hungry, yes. Tested, yes. But also clearer about who he was and the life he was stepping into.
If you find yourself in a wilderness — chosen or unchosen — you are not alone.
It may not be comfortable. It may not be quick. It may not make sense yet.
But it is not for nothing.
That morning I decided to approach the wilderness differently. I sent a message to a few inner circle friends and asked them to pray for me. I made extra time to walk along water and sit in silence. I gave myself grace to go home early. I reconnected with a therapist.
The wilderness may still be uncomfortable. It may test you. But it can also teach you, transform you, and clarify the path ahead.
This season of Lent, instead of asking only what you might give up, you might also ask:
- What is asking for my attention?
- Where am I feeling hunger?
- Who can walk alongside me in this season?
Hold on.
Dig in.
Open up.
Let’s see where the wilderness leads.