Saturday, March 28
Read: Psalm 31:9-16; Lamentations 3:55-66; Mark 10:32-34
From the Pit to the Road
There are prayers that rise easily, shaped by habit or gratitude or joy. And then there are prayers that come from the depths: “I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit.” The writer of Lamentations does not soften the image. This is not a low mood or a passing sadness. It is the place where the walls feel close and the future narrows. Lent gives us permission to begin there.
So often we imagine that faith starts from strength or clarity. But Scripture insists, again and again, that prayer quite often begins in the pit. What matters is not the place from which we pray, but that we call out at all. And astonishingly, the text tells us that God hears. God comes near and speaks a simple, steady word: “Do not fear.” That word does not undo harm or suddenly explain suffering or erase what has happened. It does something quieter and deeper: It assures the one who cries out that they are not alone in the dark.
The psalmist knows this place, too. Psalm 31 is not a song of triumph, but a prayer offered by someone who is exhausted, misunderstood, and worn down by grief: “My strength fails because of my misery.” There is no denial here, no spiritual bypassing. And yet, through that raw honesty before God, another sentence emerges: “My times are in your hand.” This is trust without illusion. The psalmist does not claim to know how things will unfold, but places time itself back into God’s care. Lent invites us into that same relinquishment, not because we are done struggling, but because we cannot carry everything alone.
And then there is Jesus, on the road to Jerusalem. He knows what lies before him and names it clearly: betrayal, suffering, death. And still, he keeps going. It is not reckless courage or blind obedience. It is a chosen faithfulness, rooted deeply in knowing that even this road is held by God.
The disciples are amazed, those who follow are afraid, and that is important to know. Jesus’ clarity does not make the journey easier for those around him. Lent reminds us that faith does not always make things comfortable or understandable or easy. Sometimes it simply means walking forward, step by step, with unvarnished honesty about the cost.
Together, these texts offer a pattern for the Lenten journey: We cry out from the pit. We place our times in God’s hands. And we keep walking, not because we are fearless, but because God goes with us.
Lent does not ask us to rush past pain toward resurrection. It asks us to stay present, to tell the truth, and to trust that even here, even now, God is present.
For Reflection
- Where do you find yourself right now: in the pit, in the act of letting go, or on the road ahead?
- What would it mean, today, to place your times in God’s hands?
- Where might God be inviting you to keep walking, even without certainty?
Prayer:
Holy One, God who comes near, hear us when we cry from the depths, and hold us when we cannot. Fill us with courage to walk the road before us, and remind us always that we do not walk alone. Amen.
The Reverend Dr. Michelle Bogue-Trost ’88 is senior minister of Asbury First United Methodist Church in Rochester, New York.
