The Pathway: Week Two – The Wilderness

"Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness..."
—Matthew 4:1

Lent does not call us to comfort. It calls us to the wilderness—to the place where distractions fall away, where we meet ourselves as we truly are, where hunger and silence become teachers rather than obstacles.

This is not exile. It is not abandonment. It is a space of deep stripping down, of unlearning the need for control, of facing the ache beneath the ache.

The wilderness does not offer easy answers. It does not deal in certainty. It is a slow teacher, a quiet sculptor, carving trust where grasping used to be.

And yet, this is not a journey we take alone. The same Spirit that called Jesus Beloved led Him here. And so, as we step into this week, we hold onto this:

The wilderness is not the absence of God.
It is where God is already waiting.

A Pathway Through the Wilderness

If you cannot walk the daily rhythms of Lent but still long to enter the invitation, this is your path for the week—a way to carry the wilderness within you, to let it shape you in its own time.

🔹 Step deeper into the unknown – Let go of the need for clear answers.
🔹 Sit with hunger – Not just physical, but spiritual, emotional, the ache for something more.
🔹 Listen in silence – Allow the wilderness to reveal what is true.
🔹 Let lament rise – Be honest about what feels heavy and unresolved.
🔹 Trust the unseen work of God – Believe that transformation is happening, even when we cannot see it.

This week, we walk slowly.
We pay attention.
We let the wilderness speak.

A Shared Practice: A Thread That Weaves Us Together

On Wednesday at sunrise, wherever you are, step outside.
Feel the air on your skin. Let your feet meet the earth.
Notice the weight of yourself standing here.

Whisper:
"This ground is holy, even in the wilderness."

Then, ask yourself:

Where am I tempted to believe I walk alone?
What if presence is here, even in silence?

Know that others are doing the same.
A shared breath. A shared moment. A quiet tether in the vastness of this season.

This week, we do not rush through the wilderness—we let it do its work.
We do not force meaning—we allow revelation to unfold in its own time.
We do not fear the hunger, the silence, the wrestling—we lean in.

Take a breath.
Step in.
Let yourself be led.