Hello friends,
Welcome.
This is Mark Ludman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks.
And welcome to day 42 of our Lenten journey in the wilderness,
Still held,
As we walk through John's Gospel all the way to Easter.
I invite you just to sit,
To still yourself,
To breathe in and out,
As we spend time reflecting on our journey.
I just want to simply acknowledge you being here today,
For taking the time to be part of this journey through Lent.
For the past 41 days,
You've paused and listened and you've allowed moments of quiet reflection to enter your life.
And we live in a space and time that moves quickly and demands attention.
And in this world that we live in,
Slowing down is not a small thing.
But you made space.
Space to notice and to listen.
Space to become more aware of the presence of God within the ordinary rhythms of your life.
And whether the journey felt clear or confusing at times,
Steady or uneven at times,
The simple act of returning each day matters.
It means something.
And I don't mean that for me,
I mean that for you.
And not because of an achievement or an effort or anything like that,
But because attention shapes the heart.
So wherever you find yourself today,
I invite you to take a gentle breath and to simply recognise that you've walked this path to today and you are still held.
And just know that today we'll be summarising where we've been over the last 41 days,
But And our journey's not over,
Because after today we have four more days in which we will be spending time doing something that's more like a reflective Lectio on readings pertinent to Maundy Thursday,
Good Friday,
Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday.
But today we reflect back over the last 41 days that we've had together.
And it may help to remember where we began.
On the very first day,
We returned to a very,
Very simple and foundational truth that before effort and before failure and before striving,
There was light.
Before we tried to become better people,
Before we tried to understand everything,
Before we worried about getting things right,
There was already the quiet presence of God.
Nothing in our lives begin outside that presence.
And maybe at the beginning of this journey,
That idea felt very distant to you or maybe hopeful or possibly even difficult to believe.
But after these weeks of reflection,
I wonder if something inside you senses it a little more clearly,
That it's no longer an idea or a theory,
But it's probably a possibility that beneath all the movement of life,
God has been there all along.
And over these weeks,
We've walked a path together,
Not a straight path,
But a very human one.
We began by remembering that we are held,
That beneath our striving and our searching,
There's already a deeper ground of grace.
And then we explored the structures that we lean on,
The ways we try and secure ourselves,
The ways we strive for certainty and control and recognition.
And gently we began learning something different,
To lose our grip,
To stay present to the moment that we're actually living in,
To see more clearly.
Along the way,
We encountered the deeper places of the human story.
Places of thirst,
Places of waiting,
Places where clarity doesn't come quickly.
We stood with grief.
We sat in delay.
We learned that transformation often unfolds quietly,
Long before we can see or understand it.
And then we entered the final movements of the story.
We stood at the table where feet were washed,
Where love knelt down and served.
We stood at the cross where love remained even in suffering.
We waited at the tomb where silence lingered.
And finally,
We stepped into the garden where resurrection was first recognised through relationship,
A name spoken and a heart awakened.
When we look back over a journey like this,
It can be tempting to search for dramatic change,
To ask ourselves whether we feel completely different.
But often,
As we've seen,
The most meaningful transformations are subtle,
Almost hidden.
So instead of measuring the journey,
You might simply ask yourself,
Has something shifted even a little?
Perhaps there's a little more calm in the moments that once felt rushed.
Perhaps there's a little more honesty about your own limits and limitations.
Maybe there's a little less urgency to fix everything straight away.
Or a growing trust that God is present even when life feels unfinished.
These small interior moments and movements matter.
These are the quiet work of grace in our lives and they rarely arrive with noise.
Often without any certainty,
They simply grow.
And now Lent's coming to a close and the Easter Triduum will begin.
But the practice that we've been exploring of abiding doesn't belong to a season.
It's not limited to the weeks of Lent.
Abiding is simply a way of living,
A way of returning again and again and again to the awareness that we are not alone.
And it can happen in very ordinary places.
It can happen in the car as you're driving through traffic.
It can happen in a conversation with someone you love.
It can happen in the quiet moments before sleep.
It can happen right in the middle of grief or in moments of unexpected joy.
Abiding doesn't require special conditions.
All it does is ask us to notice,
To return,
To remember God is here.
And so soon,
After Easter Sunday,
You'll return fully into the ordinary rivens of your life.
Busy schedules,
Responsibilities,
A world that still carries uncertainty and pain.
None of those things disappear.
But perhaps you return slightly different.
You may not have perfect answers or complete clarity,
But perhaps you've got a steadfastness,
A steadiness that wasn't there before.
Perhaps there's a stillness within your sacred centre,
Perhaps a deeper trust that even in the turbulence of life,
The presence of God remains.
Abiding allows us to remain human in a very,
Very restless world.
It allows us to breathe,
To respond with compassion,
To stay grounded when everything around us is moving quickly.
And that quiet steadiness is something that our world needs.
So before we close today,
I want to offer a few simple questions.
Just allow them to rest gently within you.
What have you discovered about God during this journey?
What have you discovered about yourself?
And how might you continue practising abiding in the ordinary moments of your life?
Let's close with a short prayer.
God of quiet presence,
We thank you for the path that we've walked together.
For the moments of insight and for the moments of uncertainty.
For the places where we felt your nearness and the places where we simply learned to wait.
Continue to guide us in the practice of abiding.
Help us to recognise your presence in ordinary life.
Give us patience with ourselves,
Gentleness with others and openness to the quiet work of your spirit.
May we carry what we've received into the days ahead.
And as you go into this day,
My friend,
May you remember that you are held.
May you remain rooted in the quiet presence of God.
And may you carry peace into the places that need it most.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
My friends,
Grace,
Peace and love surround you and envelop you as you abide in God and God abides in you.
Amen.
