Let's be honest. (Here's why we need Lent.)

Ever looked around at our world and felt completely overwhelmed? That's where I find myself as we enter this Lenten season.

This is the first week of Lent. For generations, inspired by Jesus's forty days in the wilderness, followers of Jesus have spent the forty days before Easter in wilderness spaces of our own, preparing for the heartbreak and hope of the cross and empty tomb. The word Lent comes from an Old English word for "lengthen," referring to the lengthening days we experience as spring emerges.

And I feel like I say this every year, but we need Lent. We need this intentional season now more than ever.

When the World Feels Like Too Much

Here's why: I think many of us are looking around at the world, and we're feeling all kinds of things. We might be feeling a sense of existential dread or disorientation, some anxiety and overwhelm. Or maybe we're just confused—existing in this state of perpetual cognitive dissonance.

It might just be me, but I don't think it is.

And in the midst of it all, whether we've explicitly asked it or not, there's a question that's underneath all of these feelings—that maybe we've had time to grapple with, or maybe we've just been doing what we can do hold it together, and we haven't had the chance or the energy. Either way, that question is this:

How did we get here?

How did we get here where the world feels so fragile? How did we get here where things are so divisive? How did we get to this place where that which we've taken for granted for so long has seemingly been undone so quickly—where the entrenched lines of what's right and wrong no longer seem to matter? How did we get here to this place where an anger that we didn't know we had is festering, and we're not sure what to do with it?

Just me?

This is why we need Lent.

Tired of Waiting

For a few months now, this poem from Langston Hughes, poet, playwright, and leader of the Harlem Renaissance, has been rattling around in my brain. And it's fitting to share as we begin Lent because it captures a lot of what I'm feeling and the questions I'm asking. I wonder if you'll resonate. It's called "Tired."

I am so tired of waiting.
Aren't you,
for the world to become good
and beautiful and kind?
Let us take a knife
and cut the world in two—
and see what worms are eating
at the rind.

In effect, he's asking this same question in 1930 during the Great Depression that we're still asking nearly a century later: How did we get here?

And so notice what Hughes is prescribing here. He doesn't recommend distraction or running away. He doesn't turn to scapegoating or sugarcoating. Instead, he prescribes working to get to the heart of what's eating at our core—in other words, getting honest about what's keeping us from real goodness and beauty and kindness.

And this sort of honesty is what Lent is all about.

The Truth Will Set You Free

If we want to really know how we got here, we have to be honest—with ourselves, with one another, and with God. We may not be able to fix everything "out there," but if we can start to do this good, hard, holy work here, in ourselves, naming with clarity and honesty what worms are eating at the rind in here, then that we might be able to carry that witness into the world.

And in so doing, we might also experience a freedom full of beauty, goodness, and kindness—that we didn't know was possible. After all, Jesus says, the truth will set you free.

And that's what Lent is all about. Because if we don't name it, it can't be healed. If we don't name it and confess it, we won't be able to fully receive and experience the renewal, the love, the life, and the hope that resurrection promises—the new life that Jesus makes possible in us and in the world.

Finding Honesty in the Wilderness

This Lent, I invite you to join me in asking these hard questions. In looking honestly at what's eating at our core—both individually and collectively. Not to wallow in despair or to point fingers, but to create space for healing, renewal, and the possibility of resurrection.

Because when we're honest about where we are and how we got here, we create room for something new to emerge. Something that might look a lot more like the goodness, beauty, and kindness that we're all so tired of waiting for.

For Reflection

• What feelings arise when you look at the state of our world right now? Can you name them honestly?
• Where in your life might you need to "cut the world in two" and examine what's eating at the rind?
• What would it look like to create a "wilderness space" for yourself this Lent?

In the coming weeks, I'll be sharing more reflections from our sermons series at The Local Church called "Glitch: Reframing Sin and Finding Reconnection." Next week, we'll explore how reframing sin as disconnection rather than moral failure might offer us a healthier path forward. I hope you'll journey with me as we explore how our disconnections might become pathways to healing, and how honesty just might set us free.

This post is part of a Lenten series exploring how our disconnections might become pathways to healing. Join us next Sunday in person or follow along here as we continue our journey through "Glitch: Reframing Sin and Finding Reconnection."