by Archdeacon Claire Phelps
Dear Family of St John’s
During the season of Lent, we have been journeying together through the Lectio 365: Wisdom in the Desert series in our sermons and Bible studies. The Desert Fathers and Mothers – those early Christians who withdrew into the wilderness in order to seek God – may seem very far removed from our modern lives. After all, most of us are not about to pack up and head into the Egyptian desert!
And yet, their wisdom still speaks surprisingly clearly into our world.
In many ways, Lent itself invites us into a kind of “desert journey.” It is a season that encourages us to slow down, to step back from the constant busyness of life, and to pay attention again to the presence of God. That ‘desert space’ is where people discover what really matters.
Think of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness for forty years, learning day by day to trust God for their daily bread. Think of Jesus Himself, who was led by the Spirit into the wilderness for forty days before beginning His ministry. Time and again, the desert becomes the place where distractions fall away, and God’s voice becomes clearer.
Over the past few weeks, our reflections in the Wisdom in the Desert series have drawn on the insights of those early desert Christians.
We began by thinking about the desert as a place of revelation. The Desert Fathers and Mothers believed that when life becomes quieter and simpler, we begin to see more clearly. We begin to see ourselves more honestly, and we begin to see God more clearly as well. Scripture reminds us that wisdom isn’t simply knowledge or cleverness. True wisdom is learning how to live well in the presence of God. Sometimes that wisdom looks very different from what the world expects. It’s often quieter, humbler, and more patient.
In the following week, we explored the theme of silence and solitude. If we’re honest, silence can feel a little uncomfortable. Most of us live surrounded by noise – music playing, radios in our cars, televisions in the background, phones constantly buzzing with notifications. It can feel strange to switch everything off.
But the desert teachers remind us that silence isn’t empty space. It’s actually space that allows us to listen. When we create even a little room for quiet, we may discover that God has been speaking all along – we simply needed the stillness to hear it.
More recently, we have been thinking about the freedom of renunciation. During Lent, many people choose to give something up. Sometimes that might be chocolate, social media, or another small comfort. But the deeper purpose of these practices is not simply self-denial for its own sake. Rather, it’s about freedom. When we loosen our grip on the things that quietly claim too much space in our lives, we create room for something better – room for God to reshape our hearts and our priorities.
All of these reflections raise a question for each of us during this Lenten season:
Where are the desert spaces in our own lives?
For most of us, the desert won’t be a physical place. Our lives are busy. There are families to care for, work to be done, errands to run, and countless responsibilities that fill our days. Yet the wisdom of the desert reminds us that we don’t need to travel far to find moments of stillness. Often, the desert can be found in very small and ordinary spaces.
Perhaps your desert moment comes early in the morning before the day begins – just a few quiet minutes with a cup of tea, a short passage of Scripture, and a simple prayer. Perhaps it’s a deliberate pause somewhere in the middle of the day, stepping away from screens and noise to breathe deeply and remember that God is present. Maybe it’s even while washing the dishes in the evening, using that time to pray!
For some people, it might be a quiet walk outside, noticing the beauty of creation and allowing our mind to settle. For others, it could be something as simple as turning off the radio in the car and travelling in silence for a few minutes. These may seem like small things, but they can become powerful moments of attentiveness.
The Desert Fathers and Mothers often encouraged people to begin with very small practices. They knew that spiritual life is rarely transformed through dramatic gestures. Instead, it grows slowly through simple, faithful habits repeated day after day.
Lent isn’t about trying to become spiritually impressive. It’s about gently turning our hearts back toward God.
Some days these practices will feel meaningful and refreshing. On other days they may feel ordinary, or even a little difficult. That’s completely normal. The important thing isn’t whether the moment feels extraordinary. The important thing is the willingness to show up – to pause, to pray, to listen, even when life feels busy or distracted.
The desert teachers spoke often about perseverance. They understood that faith deepens gradually through patient faithfulness in the small rhythms of daily life.
So, as we continue this Lenten journey together, perhaps this is a good moment to pause and reflect:
Where am I finding moments of quiet with God?
What small practices are helping me listen more deeply?
Is there something in my life that I might gently set aside in order to create a little more space for God?
The wonderful truth at the heart of Lent is that God meets us exactly where we are. We don’t need to travel to a distant wilderness to encounter God. Even in the ordinary patterns of daily life, small moments of stillness can become holy ground.
My hope is that this season continues to be a time of quiet discovery for all of us – a time when, in the midst of busy lives, we learn again the deep and gentle wisdom that can be found in the desert.
With love
Your friend and rector,
Claire