Wednesday Wonder – March 19, 2025
We are travelling deeper into Lent. We talk about the growing darkness as we inch closer to Good Friday, before bursting into the light of Easter.
I always find an irony in our talk of growing darkness during Lent. I do so because the light is actually growing this time of year. Sunrise and sunset are getting further apart just now. Yet, here we are in the church talking about deeper darkness. We are extinguishing candles to symbolize this coming darkness. But we often do so as the sun brightly shines through the windows.
It is a symbolic darkness we consider during Lent. Lent is the time for more inward reflection. A time to consider how we can shine the Spirit from within us more brightly. A time to reflect upon how to improve relationships; with God, with others, with ourselves. Sometimes, that inward looking feels dark as we reveal to ourselves, or admit to ourselves, how we might have fallen short of being the people God calls us to be.
There is also the darkness of the road to Jerusalem. Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem and he did not turn back. He knew his destiny lay in that holy city. He knew he had to go there, despite others telling him to stay away or who wanted to keep him from putting himself in danger. As he steps ever closer to that place, a certain darkness, perhaps despair for his followers is building. Jesus, himself, has said things won’t go well there. He has told his followers he will suffer when he gets there. They don’t want that to happen.
While we sit here over two millennia later, we know that this growing darkness will eventually become eternal light. Those walking the road with Jesus did not fully know what was to come. They are scared. They are worried for their companion and loved one. They want reassurance that everything will be okay. We know it will. We know how the story goes.
Where we sit, there are other concerns and worries for companions, loved ones and ourselves. In many ways, our world mirrors the one Jesus and the disciples lived in. There was uncertainty. There were powerful entities controlling what would happen. People often felt helpless in the face of such power.
The darkness of Lent will, in the not too distant future, give way to the light of Easter. We will be reminded that God is, indeed, always with us.
For now, for Lent, we wander in the wilderness. It may not be a wilderness or desert made of stone and sand, or of trees that close in around us so that we lose our way, but it may feel every bit as empty and scary. So much we cannot control, yet so much we can do to respond to God.
And God is the key. The Christ came to live among us. He lived a human life of love, laughter, sorrow and pain. He understands all the complicated feelings that are with us in the darkness. He also knows what it is to live in the light.
God is always with us. The growing light of Advent became the brilliance of the Christmas star telling us God is among us. God is always with us. The growing darkness of Lent makes it harder to see, especially as we look upward to the cross on Good Friday. God is always with us. In the light or in the dark, God is there.
When I forget that the journey is never made alone, somehow, God breaks through and reminds me I am not alone. Sometimes God is the person in front, behind or beside us. Thanks be to God, for never making us walk alone. Thanks be to God for each of you, who are at times the reminder of God’s presence to another.
Peace,
Rev. Mary-Jane