Today’s Lenten reflection was written by Revd Dr Amy Roche, the diocesan Head of Mission and Ministry.
Lent is a season of wilderness, of walking through shadows, of waiting in the tension between what is and what is yet to come. For many, this season mirrors real struggles—loss, uncertainty, pain. It is easy to wonder in these times, “Where is God?” Yet, the Christian story tells us something radical: just as the Hebrew tradition views sunset as the beginning of Sabbath; and as seeds begin their life planted under the ground – so the pattern of God’s work in the world is always a movement from night to day, from darkness to light.
The first words of Scripture proclaim, “And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day” (Genesis 1:5). The biblical day begins in darkness, just as God’s creative work begins in chaos. The gospel of Christ follows the same trajectory. On Good Friday, the world is plunged into the deepest night, but Easter morning breaks forth with the dawn of resurrection. This is not just a historical event but a pattern woven into the fabric of Christian hope: suffering is never the final word.
Jesus himself speaks to this truth: “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33). He does not promise an escape from suffering, but He assures us that suffering is not meaningless. The cross is not an end, but a passageway; the grave is not a prison, but a threshold.
This is hope—not the shallow optimism of wishful thinking, but the deep, living hope of Christ. As Jürgen Moltmann reminds us, “Christian hope does not promise successful days to the rich and the strong, but resurrection and life to those who must exist in the shadows of death.” True hope does not deny suffering, nor does it ignore the pain of others. Instead, it is forged in the fire of suffering and finds its strength in communion with God and with one another.
To hope is to step outside of ourselves, to enter into the pain and joy of others. Again, Moltmann writes, “Hope is lived when it comes alive, when we go outside of ourselves and, in joy and pain, take part in the lives of others.” Lent invites us into this kind of hope. It calls us not just to endure suffering but to bear one another’s burdens. In the wilderness, we do not walk alone. In the dark night, we hold vigil together, trusting that morning will come.
For those who are suffering now, know this: God is near. Christ Himself has walked this road, and He walks it still, through the hands that comfort, the prayers that sustain, the love that refuses to let go.
And for those who stand beside the suffering, your presence is part of the light that breaks the darkness. You are witnesses to the truth that night does not last forever.
Lent leads to Easter. The cross gives way to resurrection. The darkness, no matter how deep, is never the end of the story. The morning is coming.
Hold fast to hope.
