Rector’s Letter

I wonder if you’ve given anything up for Lent this year? It’s the question that defines this season in the popular imagination. Perhaps you’ve opted for the traditional fasts— chocolate, alcohol, or social media. Or perhaps you’re fasting in a more modern way, such as reducing your carbon footprint or committing to a “plastic-free” forty days. At our Ash Wednesday service, back in February, I encouraged us not to think of Lenten promises as a spiritual “self-improvement programme.”

There’s a story of a woman who decided to be the “Perfect Christian” one Lent. She gave up everything fun, avoided every carb, and went to the gym first thing every morning. By week two of Lent, she
was exhausted, irritable, and—ironically—spending all her time judging everyone else who wasn’t as disciplined as she was. One afternoon, she found herself staring at a forgotten leftover
Shrove Tuesday pancake in the back of the fridge. In a moment of “hangry” desperation, she ate it. Cold. Rubbery. Defeat. That cold pancake was her wake-up call. In her quest to be “perfect,”
she’d become entirely self-absorbed. She’d been so busy “improving” herself that she’d forgotten to actually spend any time with God. I want to strongly suggest this isn’t the way Lent should be – it isn’t meant to be a spiritual Olympic Games; it’s much more an invitation to relationship.

Our readings in church at the beginning of each Lent take us to the wilderness. I remember as a child seeing pictures of the Tempter as a big, red, scary figure with horns. Red means danger; when we see red, we stop. But as I’ve grown older, I realise temptation rarely wears a red suit. In the Book of Genesis, the serpent is described as “crafty” or “subtle.” Temptation doesn’t usually shout; it whispers. It nudges us to put ourselves at the centre of things instead of God. We see this with Jesus in the desert. He wasn’t just tempted by bread or power; he was tempted to do things on his own terms. We often do the same. When we pray, is it a list of demands? “Lord, let it stay dry today,” or “Take this problem away on my to-do list.” Praying “Thy will be done” is a tough prayer because it requires us to trust God’s terms over our own.

Whatever we are doing to keep Lent, the invitation of Lent remains the same for everyone: focus on the relationship. Perhaps that might mean reading a chapter of the Gospels every day or simply carving out five minutes of quiet for daily prayer. It doesn’t matter how “grand” the gesture is. What matters is the intent. Are we clearing a little space in our busy lives to let God in? Lent is a time to practice being loved. It’s a time to realise that we don’t have to be “perfect” to be in the right relationship with our Heavenly Father. Jesus went into the wilderness not to prove how tough he was, but because he knew he was the
“Beloved Son.”

So, whatever you are doing this season—whether you are giving something up or taking something on—may you find that God is right there in the wilderness, ready to walk with you.

With my prayers and very best wishes.