Lent is the Wilderness
Luke 18:9–14
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I always get excited in the days leading up to Lent. I ponder what I might give up and how it might benefit my life—my daily routine, health, mindset, and so on. I anticipate the spiritual growth and maturity I’ll gain over the 40-day journey, envisioning mountain-top faith.
But what happens, without a doubt, every year is that I hit that first real week of Lent—the novelty of my new honorable sacrifice for the Lord now wearing off—and I realize how long 40 days really is!
And then, Lent is no longer fun. Lent is no longer about me and my grand plans to shape myself into a better person or a more faithful Christian. Essentially, every year, I am humbly reminded that Lent is painstaking. Lent is suffering. Lent is not the mountain top. Lent is the wilderness.
And then, I no longer like Lent because I inevitably fail over and over and over again. But this is exactly what Lent is about: our failure and our absolute inability to do anything about it. In the next 36 days, whether you’re choosing to observe Lent or not, you and I will fail. We will sin. And when we fail, our passage for the day presents us with two choices:
Self-Justification: To borrow the language from the passage, you and I can be “confident in [our] own righteousness” (v. 9). If I just do (or don’t do) A, B, and C then the Lord will forgive me, love me, give me (fill in the blank). We are the masters of our own fate. We can justify our actions, whether good or bad, to determine our worth.
Humility: Or, we can cry out, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (v. 13). We can recognize our sin, our failure, and with humility turn to the Lord in search of forgiveness.
Both of these options are free for us to choose, but only one offers true forgiveness. We cannot justify ourselves. And the beauty of the latter option is that when we cry out, “Lord have mercy,” this grace is abundantly and freely given. We do not earn it. It does not matter if we never gave up anything for Lent, forgot to this year, or chose to and have already failed. Because Lent is not about you and me and our humble sacrifices. It’s about the ultimate sacrifice—Jesus taking on your sins, my sins, and the sins of the world through his death on the cross.
So today, as we anticipate and long for Resurrection Sunday, when Jesus conquers sin and death, let us look to the cross and cry out, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” And know today, that this mercy is yours for the taking.
