|
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
How a Private Lenten Practice Became a Shared Journey–It Began with a Question, Not a Book
In the weeks leading up to Lent, I found myself asking a familiar prayer:
Jesus, how do you want me to walk through this season?
For days, there was silence. And then, on Ash Wednesday, the answer came—gently, clearly, and unexpectedly.
I was sitting quietly in my den, settled into my prayer chair, waiting—both patiently and impatiently—for the Lord to reveal what Lent would look like.
I wasn’t being asked to plan something new or adopt a novel discipline. It was an invitation into a journey—to meet Jesus each morning in prayer and to write from that place of encounter.
There was only one problem.
He asked me to share it.
A Very Private Faith Meets a Public Invitation
For years, my Lenten practices were deeply personal. They lived in the quiet space between Jesus and me—unseen, unshared, and safely held.
So when the invitation came to write every morning for forty days and make it public, my immediate response was resistance.
I was terrified to share my heart—my weakness, my fears—with the rest of the world. It felt far too unfiltered and vulnerable.
I felt unqualified. Exposed. Surely, He had chosen the wrong person.
And yet, as has so often been the case in my life, Jesus did not withdraw the invitation. He waited.
Why the Desert?
The desert has always held a quiet tension for me.
At first glance, it appears barren—dry, stark, and uninviting. And truthfully, that is how I experienced it spiritually. I didn’t feel drawn to the desert. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to. I approached it as a spiritual discipline to endure—something to get through—rather than an invitation into a deeper relationship.
And yet, the desert would not let me go.
Over time, I began to notice that when distractions fell away, something unexpected surfaced. Beneath the starkness was hidden life. In the silence was a Voice. Beneath the vulnerability was an invitation to find shelter not in circumstances or temporal safety, but in Christ himself.
The desert slowly became, for me, a way of understanding Lent—not as mere austerity or obligation, but as a place where God meets us in what feels uncomfortable, barren, and unfinished, and reveals what we could not see at first glance.
From Practice to Pages
What began as a simple act of obedience slowly unfolded into something more.
Each morning, I met Jesus in prayer. Each morning, I wrote—sometimes with clarity, sometimes with reluctance, often with trembling honesty.
These reflections were not composed for publication. They were born from:
- years of prayer and journaling
- Scripture meditation
- a lived friendship with Jesus
Over time, this rhythm revealed a pattern: a movement from doing to being, from striving to abiding, from head knowledge to heart encounter.
Lent as a Walk, Not a Checklist
Lent can easily become something we manage—a list of sacrifices, resolutions, and spiritual goals. But what I was experiencing was different. Lent was becoming a companionship.
In The Desert Walk, I wanted to offer a guide that doesn’t rush the reader or overwhelm them—but instead invites them to slow down, notice, and stay.
I hope that as you read The Desert Walk, this upcoming Lent, you will encounter the Lord in a new way—that God will reveal himself more powerfully to you. I pray your heart opens more fully to receive all He has for you, discovering more of His peace and rest, learning to abide, connecting with Jesus in a heart-to-heart way and growing in intimacy.
This is not a book about doing Lent better. It is a book about walking with Jesus more honestly.
The Long Yes
This book did not arrive quickly. It unfolded over a decade, shaped by doubt, surrender, and repeated consent to stay—especially when it would have been easier to remain hidden.
There were moments I wondered:
- Would anyone be interested in my story—and would what I wrote be good enough? After all, I had squeaked by college English with a C.
- What sustained me was a deep knowing that Jesus wanted me to write this. I was doing it for Him.
Still, the invitation remained gentle and persistent.
What I Hope This Becomes for You
My hope for The Desert Walk is simple. That it helps you:
- slow down
- listen more deeply
- notice God’s presence in the quiet
- trust that even barren places hold healing and life
If you are weary, uncertain, or longing for a more profound friendship with Jesus, this walk is for you.
A Closing Prayer
May the words written in The Desert Walk lead you to Love.
Thank you for walking with me.
— Leslie
