The Church’s Last Deep Breath Before Lent

Free Snowy Window View Image - Winter ...
Before Kent asks us to exhale, the church teaches us how to breathe.

There is, every year, a curious moment in the Church’s calendar when nothing much happens — and the Church seems very pleased about that.

It is the stretch just before Lent, when Epiphany has finished showing us all the shiny things it had to show, the candles have been put away, and Ash Wednesday is visible on the horizon like a dentist appointment you’ve already put in your calendar but are choosing not to think about yet.

And what does the Church do in this moment?

It pauses.
It breathes.
It refuses — quite stubbornly — to rush.

This is deeply countercultural. We live in a world that believes preparation should be loud, dramatic, and ideally involve colour-coded spreadsheets. But the Church, in her wisdom, seems to say, Before we repent, before we fast, before we take a good hard look at ourselves — let’s breathe.

Spiritually speaking, this is the long inhale.

We notice it in parish life too. Committee meetings are held, coffee is poured, someone asks if we really need to move the piano again, and nobody yet mentions giving up chocolate. Even the Alleluias sound like they are stretching before a long walk.

And perhaps that is the point.

God, it seems, does not shout repentance at us from across the room. God draws near quietly and says, “Sit down. Catch your breath. We’ll talk in a moment.”

This pause is not avoidance. It is mercy.

Because only a God who loves us deeply would know that repentance without breath becomes performance — and that transformation requires oxygen.

So if these days feel oddly gentle, oddly spacious, oddly unspectacular, take heart. You are not behind. You are right where the Church wants you to be: breathing in grace before letting go.

Follow along on Instagram @renewablespiritual

Companion Prayer

Gracious God,
you do not rush us into holiness
or shout us into repentance.
You give us time to breathe,
to notice,
to rest in your presence
before we begin again.

In these quiet days,
fill our lungs with your mercy
and our hearts with trust,
that when the journey deepens,
we may walk it not in fear
but in love.
Amen.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *