Into the Wilderness

February 20, 2026

Into the Wilderness

The First Sunday in Lent | February 22, 2026

Opening Thought

What a difference a week makes.

Last Sunday, we stood on the mountaintop. We were surrounded by the blazing light of the Transfiguration, the joyous voices of our Choristers, and the earth-shaking, invigorating power of the Fisk organ's French reeds. We didn't want to come down.

But the mountain is not the destination; it is the preparation. Ash Wednesday has come and gone, and the Alleluias have been buried. Today, we find ourselves at the bottom of the mountain, standing at the edge of the wilderness.

The transition is jarring, and our liturgy reflects that shock. This Sunday, there is no bright organ voluntary or triumphant entrance hymn. Instead, we begin by chanting The Great Litany. As we pace through this ancient, solemn series of prayers, we are stripping away the noise and the ego. We are acknowledging our faults, our fears, and our deep need for God’s mercy.

Lent is not meant to be a comfortable season. Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted. He faced hunger, isolation, and the seductive whispers of the devil. But He didn't face them just to prove how strong He was; He faced them to show us that when we are in our wilderness—when we are tired, tempted, and feeling entirely alone—we have a Savior who has already walked that path and defeated the shadows.

Welcome to Lent. It is time to walk into the wilderness.

Engaging the Word

Our readings today contrast the failures of humanity with the overwhelming grace of God.

Genesis (2:15-17; 3:1-7) takes us back to the first temptation. God places humanity in a perfect garden with only one rule: do not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. But the serpent is crafty. He twists God's words and appeals to human pride, promising that their eyes will be opened and they will be like God. They eat, their eyes are indeed opened, but instead of divinity, they find shame, sewing fig leaves together to hide their nakedness.

Psalm 32 offers the antidote to the shame found in Genesis. "Happy are they whose transgressions are forgiven, and whose sin is put away!" The psalmist describes the physical toll of holding onto unconfessed sin—bones withering and moisture drying up. But the moment guilt is acknowledged and confessed, God forgives, becoming a hiding place and surrounding the believer with shouts of deliverance.

Romans (5:12-19) is Paul’s brilliant theological reflection on the garden and the cross. He contrasts Adam with Christ. Through one man's trespass (Adam), sin and death entered the world, leading to condemnation. But the free gift of God is not like the trespass. Through one man's obedience (Jesus Christ), the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness brings justification and life for all.

Matthew (4:1-11) brings us to the ultimate showdown. After fasting for forty days and forty nights, Jesus is famished. The tempter attacks Him at His weakest, urging Him to turn stones into bread, to test God's protection by throwing Himself off the temple, and to trade His divine mission for the worldly glory of all the kingdoms on earth. In every instance, Jesus relies on the Word of God, finally banishing Satan. Where Adam fell in a garden of plenty, Jesus stands firm in a barren desert.

A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides

Our music today shifts away from the grand fanfares of Epiphany, guiding us into the introspective, reflective, and ultimately fortified space of Lent.

The Entrance Rite: As mentioned, we forego our usual festive opening to chant The Great Litany. This historic prayer covers every facet of human frailty and divine mercy, setting the perfect penitential tone for the season.

Sequence Hymn: We sing "Forty days and forty nights" (#150). This classic Lenten hymn directly mirrors our Gospel reading, asking that we might share in Christ's fasting and remain faithful in the face of our own temptations.

Offertory Anthem: The choir offers "Lord, for Thy Tender Mercy's Sake," attributed to the 16th-century composer Richard Farrant. This is a jewel of English choral music. It is not complex or showy; rather, it is a simple, homophonic, and deeply earnest prayer. We ask God to "forgive that is past, and give us grace to amend our sinful lives" so that we may walk with a "perfect heart".

Presentation Hymn: Even in Lent, we give thanks. We sing the familiar "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow" (#380, v.3) as we bring our offerings to the altar.

Communion Hymn: During communion, we sing Charles Wesley’s beautiful text, "Jesus, lover of my soul" (#699). It is a tender plea for refuge—asking Christ to hide us in His bosom while the storms of life and temptation roll around us.

Post-Communion Hymn: We conclude with Martin Luther's battle cry, "A mighty fortress is our God" (#688). As we prepare to leave the church and re-enter the wilderness of the world, we sing this robust reminder that we do not fight our spiritual battles alone.

Closing Voluntary: We carry the melody of that final hymn right out the doors with Dietrich Buxtehude’s setting of "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott" (BuxWV 184). Buxtehude’s triumphant, driving Baroque organ setting ensures we leave not in defeat, but armored and confident in God's protection.

A Closing Note on our Journey

As someone who has a deep passion for the culinary arts—who loves nothing more than spending an afternoon meticulously building the layers of flavor in a rich Boeuf Bourguignon or mixing the perfect craft cocktail for friends—the Lenten emphasis on fasting has always been a challenging spiritual hurdle.

When the devil approaches Jesus in the wilderness, the very first thing he does is target Jesus' physical hunger. "Command these stones to become loaves of bread," he whispers.

It’s such a relatable temptation. When we are tired, stressed, or feeling empty, our first instinct is to consume. We want the bread. We want the comfort food, the distraction, the quick fix to fill the void.

But Jesus answers, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God".

Lent is not a spiritual diet program. It is not simply about giving up chocolate, or caffeine, or a favorite meal just to prove we have willpower. Fasting—whether from food, social media, or mindless busyness—is about intentionally creating an empty space so that God can fill it. It is about realizing that the rich feasts of this world, as wonderful as they are, cannot sustain the deepest hungers of our souls.

When we strip away the noise and the excess, we often realize how desperately we rely on "bread alone." This week, as you navigate your own Lenten wilderness, I invite you to let yourself feel a little hungry. Let yourself feel the emptiness. And when you do, don't rush to fill it with a distraction. Sit in it. Breathe. And let the Word of God be the nourishment that sustains you.

You don't have to face the wilderness alone. You are loved. You are sustained. And you have a Mighty Fortress standing with you.

A Prayer for the Week Ahead

As we begin our forty-day journey, let us offer our prayers to God, who sustains us in the desert.

For the Church Universal, that in this season of self-examination and repentance, we may be cleansed of our pride and renewed by your Spirit.