I would like to start by asking you to consider an incorrect image. Imagine God, before he creates anything. He is not in Heaven, for He has not made it; He is not in space, for it does not yet exist. He is not anywhere, for the idea of place has yet to be created. So you cannot imagine anything outside of Him: you must simply imagine Him, and you are bathed in Him, swimming in the ocean of his being, an ocean with no shores and no surface, for all is submerged.

Medieval Christians had the habit of referring to our life in this world as in via, “on a journey,” as opposed to Heaven, where we would be in patria, “in the homeland.” Accordingly, they thought of themselves as viatores, “travelers” or “people of the way.” The Lord’s Supper, which to them was the pinnacle of the grace of God, was called viaticum, “waybread,” “that which sustains the journeyer.”

An old name for Fairyland is the Realm Perilous. The poetry of that name alone makes it a suitable descriptor for Fairyland, but its suitability is not exhausted in the poetry. It is also suitable because the fairy realm is a land of dangers. It is inherently a land of dangers: you could no more have a Fairyland without danger than you could have a universe without energy. But why it should be so is instructive.

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, neither shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the Lord your God.” (Leviticus 19:9-10)

Jesus prayed. That is so astounding. It is astounding because of who he was (and is): he was God himself, eternal, there before the foundation of the world, the architect of the foundation of the world. He knew God’s purposes from all eternity, for they were his purposes. He knew them during his human life, as he himself makes clear on many occasions. Why would this person need to pray?

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8, ESV)

Fasting is the spiritual discipline most closely associated with Lent. In fact, before we had the word “Lent” (which dates from around the 12th century), it was often just called “the forty day fast.”

“And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.’ The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” (Mark 1:11-12, ESV)

Repentance is the central purpose of Lent because sin is the central reality in our lives. As long as we fail to see this, as long as we think of sin as some side note to our being, as something we do rather than something we are, we are failing to really see the depths of our desperation and wildness of the salvation offered to us.

Lent is a time of consecration. It is a time set aside for us to intentionally dedicate and rededicate ourselves to the work of the Lord, to bringing our efforts in tune with the work of Christ. His forty days shape and guide our forty days. And so at the end of our forty days, we hope to arrive at a place like the place to which Christ arrived at the end of his.

Every year for 17 centuries, in the 46 days leading up to Easter, the church has set aside a season to prepare for the rejoicing that is Easter. Practices have differed during that time, and so there is no one right way to observe Lent. But there are patterns and principles. What I want to do over the course of the next 7 weeks is to look closely at these practices and principles, with the hope that you will find inspiration for your own walk of discipleship.