Our Lent Guide
The Invitation
Lent is not a rule to follow or a challenge to complete. It is a path—a long, quiet road winding through the wilderness, where distractions fade and the deeper work of God begins.
It is a season of hunger, but also of fullness. Of surrender, but also of invitation. Of dying, but also of rising.
For forty days, Jesus wandered the wilderness. Forty days of hunger, longing, temptation, and solitude. It was a place of stripping away, of coming face to face with the deepest desires of the heart. And in that space—empty but expectant—he was met, strengthened, and prepared for what was to come.
This is the invitation of Lent: to step away from the noise, the urgency, the excess, and to return to the simplicity of being with God.
We are not earning anything here. We are not performing holiness. We are simply making space—clearing the clutter in our hearts so that we might remember what is good, what is beautiful, and what is true.
Fasting: Making Space to Hunger
In Lent, we loosen our grip.
We say no to what numbs us, what distracts us, what keeps us comfortable in our complacency. Not because we are trying to prove something, but because we want to wake up—to feel our hunger again, to let it remind us that we are made for more than this.
Some will fast from food, others from the endless pull of screens and scrolling. Some will step away from unnecessary spending, from noise, from overfilled calendars.
But the fast is never just about absence—it is about presence. What we let go of is only half the story. What we make room for is the other.
What if, instead of reaching for your phone in the stillness, you reached for the quiet whisper of God? What if, instead of filling every moment with movement, you let yourself be still? What if your hunger became a prayer, your longing a liturgy?
This is the work of Lent: making space, letting go, and being filled anew.
“Fasting confirms our utter dependence upon God by finding in Him a source of sustenance beyond food.”
— Dallas Willard
Prayer: A New Rhythm of Presence
Lent slows us down. It invites us to sit, to listen, to wait.
Prayer is not just speaking; it is breathing. It is walking in step with the Spirit, moving through the day with an awareness that we are not alone.
This season, prayer will take different shapes for each of us. Maybe it is the simple stillness of a morning breath prayer before the world rushes in.
Maybe it is a midday pause, hands open, surrendering the weight you carry. Maybe it is an evening reflection, tracing the movements of God through your day.
Maybe it is silence. Maybe it is confession. Maybe it is the aching cry of longing.
Whatever it is, let it be real. Let it be honest. Let it be enough.
“…remember to P.R.A.Y.! More than anything else, this simple acronym is the thing that will help you grow in prayer. ‘Pause’. Remember that crazed greyhound pursued by the bistro chair? Try to ‘be still and know’ God (Ps. 46v10). ‘Rejoice … always’ (Phil. 4v4). Remember my son Daniel’s scribbled prayers? Your Father in heaven loves you, knows you, and interprets your heart perfectly. Give him thanks! ‘Ask and it will be given to you’ (Matt. 7v7). Remember George Müller praying for daily bread? Ask the Father for everything from peace in the Middle East to parking spaces. ‘Yield’. Offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness’ (Rom. 6v13). Remember those Thai boys trapped in the cave? Wait and trust for the light and hope to come.” - Pete Greig, How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People
Lament: Holding the Ache
There is grief in Lent. Not all wounds have healed, not all wrongs have been made right.
This season makes space for that. It does not rush us toward resolution. It does not force us to move on. Instead, it asks us to sit in the ache—to name what is broken, to weep for what has been lost, to hold the tension of a world that is not yet made whole.
Lament is a kind of worship. A kind of prayer. A kind of protest against the way things are and a longing for the way they should be.
Do not be afraid to feel it. Do not be afraid to hold it in your hands, to bring it before God, to sit in the tension of the in-between.
Resurrection is coming. But first, we must make peace with the wilderness.
Sundays: A Feast in the Wilderness
Even in the wilderness, there is joy.
Sundays are a break in the fast—a glimpse of resurrection before it arrives. They are a moment to breathe, to gather, to remember that even in the waiting, there is goodness.
At Uncommon City, we will hold space for that joy. Whether around a dinner table, in conversation with friends, or in a quiet moment of gratitude, let Sundays be a reminder that the story is not over.
That even now, God is here. Even now, grace is breaking through. Even now, love is remaking the world.
Lent is not about arriving. It is about walking.
It is a slow journey, a stripping away, a quiet transformation. It is the long obedience of turning our hearts back to God, of letting go and taking hold, of surrendering and receiving.
It is an invitation.
Come, walk with us.
Meiko,
Lead Pioneer
Resources
When You Fast
By Dan Braga
Why We Need
Ash Wednesday
By Rich Villodas
Stories From The
Wilderness
By 24/7 Prayer
Lectio 365
App
By 24/7 Prayer