Lent, Wilderness, and the Unfinished Places Within Us
This blog reflects on Matthew 4:1–11 and the meaning of Lent through the lens of Zecher L’Churban, the Jewish practice of leaving part of a home unfinished as a reminder that only God completes what is broken. It explores how Lent developed in the early Church as a season of formation, honesty, and preparation — not a time of guilt or self‑punishment. Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness become a model for our own inner wildernesses: the places where we face temptation, discover clarity, and learn who we are becoming. Lent is presented as a gentle, spacious invitation to pay attention, make room for God, and grow into the person God has been shaping us to be all along.
The Ancient Practice of Zecher L’Churban: Living with the Unfinished
There is an old Jewish custom— in remembrance of the destruction of the temples.
In this ancient custom, when a home was built or decorated, a small part was deliberately left unfinished.
Not because the builders lacked skill, and not because the family ran out of paint,
but because the tradition wanted to state an eternal truth:
Which is that ‘only God is perfect’.
Even in moments of celebration, the Jewish people recognised that the world was not yet complete.
There were wounds still unhealed, hopes still waiting their fulfilment.
And they understood that wisdom meant acknowledging this, not hiding from it.
That small, unpainted patch on the wall was a quiet reminder that life itself remains unfinished —
and that God alone brings things to completion.
It’s a fascinating tradition.
A home that is almost perfect, almost finished, almost whole —
and yet intentionally left with a sign of incompleteness.
A reminder that joy and longing can sit side by side.
That celebration and sorrow can share the same room.
Why Lent Is Not About Gloom but About Truthfulness
I’ve been thinking about this ancient tradition as Lent began on Ash Wednesday last week.
Not because Lent is meant to be gloomy, but rather because it’s meant to be truthful.
Lent is the season when the Church gently invites us to recognise the places in us that are unfinished,
the places where we still long for healing,
the places where we know we need God.
It is not a season of punishment.
It’s an honest season for honest people.
How Lent Grew: From Early Christian Formation to a Shared Journey
And it didn’t appear out of nowhere.
Lent grew slowly, over centuries,
as the early Church tried to help new Christians prepare for baptism at Easter.
Those weeks before Easter became a time of learning, praying,
and sorting out what it meant to follow Jesus in real life.
It wasn’t about giving things up.
It was about taking things in, absorbing holy truths —
absorbing the story of Jesus,
taking in the shape of Christian life,
and taking up the habits that help faith become something lived rather than simply believed.
Over time, the Church realised that this kind of preparation wasn’t just for the newcomers.
Everyone needed a season to come back to themselves in, and back to God.
So Lent widened out,
and the whole community stepped into it together.
It became a shared journey, not just a private challenge.
Why Forty Days Matter: The Biblical Pattern of Formation
Eventually the Church settled on forty days.
Not because someone liked tidy numbers,
but because forty is the Bible’s way of talking about formation.
Israel wandered for forty years in the desert.
Moses spent forty days on the mountain.
Elijah travelled forty days to reach the place where he could hear God again.
And of course, Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness.
Forty is the Biblical time it takes for something in us to shift.
It’s the time it takes for God to do slow work within us.
Jesus in the Wilderness: What Matthew 4:1–11 Reveals
And that brings us to our Gospel reading.
Jesus went into the wilderness immediately after his baptism —
straight after hearing the words, “This is my beloved Son.”
You might expect the next step would have been triumphant, or celebrational, or a burst of public ministry.
But no, instead, he’s led into a place of hunger, vulnerability, and testing.
Not because God wants to see if he’ll fail,
but because the wilderness is where he discovers what kind of Messiah he will be.
The Temptations We All Recognise: Power, Control, and Being Impressive
The temptations he faces are not particularly unique
They’re painfully familiar to us still today.
The temptation to be impressive.
….. to be powerful.
….. to be in control.
These are the temptations that tug at us all, in one form or another.
And Jesus met them not with superhuman strength,
but with clarity —
clarity about who he is and what his mission is.
Our Own Wildernesses: The Places We Feel Stripped Back
We all have our own wildernesses too.
They may not look like deserts,
but they can often feel like them.
The places where we feel stripped back, or uncertain, or tempted to take an easier path.
The places where we’re not sure who we are becoming.
Lent doesn’t create those wildernesses.
It simply gives us the courage, and space, to look at them with God,
instead of avoiding them.
Lent as a Season of Clarity, Not Punishment
But, the wilderness isn’t about punishment.
It’s about finding clarity.
It’s where we learn what God is truly shaping us to become.
Jesus came out of the wilderness more grounded, not more burdened.
And that’s the heart of Lent.
Not less joy, but more truth.
Not self-denial for its own sake,
but the stripping away of what keeps us from living freely.
Moving Beyond “Giving Something Up”: Making Space for God
Some of us, I am sure – mea culpa – grew up thinking Lent was mainly about giving something up.
Chocolate, wine, biscuits — the usual suspects.
But the early Christians weren’t trying to make life miserable.
They were trying to make space.
Space to pray.
Space to listen.
Space to notice what was going on inside them.
Fasting was never the point.
Freedom was.
Freedom to become all God created us for.
What Lent Is Really For: Paying Attention and Returning to God
So what is Lent actually for?
It’s a season for paying attention.
A season for being honest about what’s shaping our lives.
A season for returning — not to guilt, but to God.
Gentle Practices That Open Us to God’s Work
And that means we should approach Lent gently.
If you’re wondering what to do this year,
don’t start with the question “What should I give up?
Start with, “What would help me live more freely?”
What would help me remember who I am
What helps you stay open to God?
For some, it might be a few minutes of silence each day —
not to achieve anything,
but simply to be present.
For others, it might be letting go of something that drains life rather than gives it.
For others still, it might be choosing one small act of kindness each day,
something that nudges the heart outward.
Lent as Personal Formation, Not a Test of Willpower
Whatever it is, do it for yourself, for your personal development
And ultimately for your relationship with God
Let it be something that opens you up to His will
rather than tighten what is already tense within you.
Because Lent is not a competition.
It’s not a test of willpower.
It’s a season of personal formation —
a season that trusts that God is already at work within us, shaping us slowly, patiently, lovingly.
Returning to the Unfinished Wall: Honesty, Hope, and God’s Slow Work
And perhaps that brings us back to – Zecher L’Churban
The Jewish practice of remembering what is broken even in the midst of joy.
Lent is our own version of that honesty.
It’s our way of saying:
we are not yet whole,
but God is not yet finished.
We carry wounds, but we also carry hope.
We walk through trials and tribulations
but we do not walk alone.
Walking Toward Holy Week with Trust and Openness
So as we progress towards Holy Week and the cross
let us do it with honesty, with hope,
and with the quiet trust that God meets us in every difficult time, every wilderness, of our modern day lives.
Becoming More Fully Ourselves: The Heart of Lent
And let us remember Lent isn’t about becoming someone else.
It’s about becoming more of our individual selves—
the same self, God has been shaping us to be all along.