March 5, 2025
Beloved of God,
Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. As we enter this holy season of Lent, we do so amid a world filled with turmoil. The weight of division, injustice, war and uncertainty presses upon us. Our communities bear deep wounds, the future feels uncertain, and suffering lingers heavily in our hearts. Many are weary—carrying the burdens of fear, frustration, or grief. Yet even now, we are called to trust in God. Jesus offers us this invitation: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28.
Art Courtesy of Council of Bishops
The Lenten journey does not require us to turn away from the pain and struggles of the present. Instead, it invites us to bring them before God, whose faithfulness never wavers. Lent reminds us that we are a people rooted in faith. I am reminded of the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”
— Isaiah 40:28-29
Beloved, we do not journey through these forty days in despair, but in hope. The ashes on our foreheads do not just remind us of our mortality, but they also proclaim that we belong to a God who is greater than the chaos of any given moment. In the face of all that seems uncertain, we are invited to pause, to breathe, and to trust God’s justice and mercy.
Lent is a season of returning—returning to prayer, to God’s word, to simplicity, to the assurance that God is working even when the path ahead remain unclear. This is not a call to passivity but to profound trust—trust that God’s justice surpasses human injustice, that God’s mercy exceeds human failure, and that God’s love sustains us, even in our weakness.
So, in these next 40 days, I invite you to lean into the rhythms of God’s grace. I invite you to breathe. To pause. To trust. Not with passive resignation, but with deep faith. Let us fast from hopelessness and fear, and feast on faith and the assurance that God is at work. Let us step away from the noise and listen for the Spirit, making space for silence, for prayer and acts of love and justice. And as we do, may we find renewed strength for the journey ahead.
The cross stands before us—not as a symbol of defeat, but as a promise that death, destruction, and despair do not have the final word. Resurrection is coming. Even now, God is moving among us and in the world. Until then, may we have the courage to walk together in faith and hope, and to trust and believe that God’s justice will prevail.
Let us pray…
God of the unknown,
In this season of Lent, we find ourselves in the wilderness—a place of questions, of waiting, of uncertainty. We confess our desire for clarity, for control, for answers, yet You call us instead to trust.
Teach us to rest in the mystery of Your presence. Help us to surrender not in despair, but in faith— believing that You are at work even when we cannot see the way forward.
When fear rises within us, remind us: we do not walk this path alone. When we are tempted to grasp for certainty, whisper to us: “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Strip away our illusions of self-sufficiency, so that we may lean fully into Your grace.
Break open our hearts, that we may be vessels of love.
Free us from the need to be in control, so that we might finally be free in You.
Christ walked through the wilderness before us, through uncertainty, through surrender, through death itself— and into resurrection.
Give us the courage to follow, trusting that even in the unknown, You are already making all things new.
We rest in You, O God,
our refuge, our strength, our only certainty.
(Prayer inspired by words from Richard Rohr)
Grace and Peace,
Bishop Tracy S. Malone
President, Council of Bishops
The United Methodist Church