Lent has always been a season that invites us to slow down, pay attention, and tell the truth about our lives. Not the polished truth we offer to the world, but the deeper truth that lives beneath the surface in the places where we are unsure, tender, hopeful, or just longing for something more.

Lent, for those who didn’t grow up in a liturgical tradition or who stepped away from church for a while and could use a refresher, is more than just a season for giving up meat or chocolate. At it’s heart, Lent is a forty-day season of introspection, contemplation, and prayer leading up up to Easter. It is a spacious period of time for noticing what is happening inside you, to let go of what no longer serves you; and make room for what brings life. It’s not about guilt or perfection. It's about honesty, gentleness, and paying attention to the quiet work happening beneath the surface of your days. Think of it as a guided pause, a chance to breathe and realign yourself with what matters most.

This year (2026), we’re reading we’re reading Learning to Walk in the Dark because author Barbara Brown Taylor meets us right in those honest places. She doesn’t rush us toward certainty or offer quick fixes. Instead, she invites us to notice the wisdom that lives in the shadows, the holiness that lingers in the in-between, and the God who is present even when the path isn’t clear.

Lent, falling as it does at the end of winter, is often frames as a journey toward the light. The truth is that most of us spend far more time navigating the dusk and those moments when we can’t quite see what’s ahead, when our faith feels quieter than we expect or when our spiritual life asks us to trust what we cannot yet name. Taylor reminds us that darkness is not the enemy of faith. It’s one of its teachers.

As we move through these six weeks together, we’ll explore what it means to walk with kindness, honesty, and open hands. We’ll pay attention to the small glimmers that guide us. We’ll practice noticing the holy possibilities knit through our everyday lives. And we’ll remember that the Divine does some of the Universe’s best work in the dark, be it the womb, the tomb, or any of the other places where new life is quietly taking shape.

Overview of Our Lenten Journey 

Our journey through Learning to Walk in the Dark will unfold slowly and spaciously, one week at a time. Each Wednesday evening we will gather on Butter to talk about what we’re reading, not to master the material but to share what stirring, what’s resonating, and what’s shifting inside us as we read. A reflection will also be posted here on the Space for Your Story stream that you are invited to engage with, comment on, and carry into your real life.

In order to finish the whole book by Easter, you will need to read a couple of essays each week. That said, you can read at your own pace. Some weeks you may read whole essays. On other weeks you may just sit with the theme. There’s no pressure to keep up or to show up with polished reflections or copious notes. The goal isn’t to read the book in unison or finish it simultaneously. Rather, Learning to Walk in the Dark is a path accompanying each of us through Lent, offering language, companionship, and courage for whatever your own "darkness; looks like right now.

Over the course of the season, we’ll trace a kind of arc:

• Beginning with naming the dark
• Moving through uncertainty and unknowing
• Learning to trust what we cannot see
• and finally arriving at Easter with a deeper sense of God’s presence in every part of our lives (not just the bright ones).

This is a journey of noticing, not achieving. A journey of presence, not performance. A journey of becoming more honest, more grounded, and more open to the quiet ways the Spirit is already moving.

Wherever you find yourself this season of Lent, whether hope-full, weary, curious, or somewhere in between, you are welcome here. Come as you are. No perfection required. Just presence. 

This is a journey we’re taking together.

I am glad and grateful you’re here.