I can hardly believe we’ve reached the end of this sacred journey. What once felt like a long stretch ahead has now passed, and in that time, so much has stirred, opened, and deepened within us.

For many of us, these past weeks (and months) have not been easy. We began this journey with a clear intention, to fast, to reflect, to make space for God, but life doesn’t always cooperate with our plans. This journey was never meant to be a perfect spiritual performance. There is no gold star for finishing every fast or completing every reflection. God is not keeping score. God is accompanying you through every interruption, every detour, every unexpected turn.

Today, we celebrate the mystery at the heart of Lent, life rising from death, light breaking through darkness, and love triumphing over everything that seeks to destroy it. The tomb is empty. Resurrection is real.

Easter reminds us that God is always doing something new. Even when all seems lost. Even when the silence lingers. Even when we don’t see the signs yet. Resurrection is God’s yes after the world’s no. It is the sacred assurance that nothing is ever wasted and that love always has the final word.

Today, everything falls into silence. The crowds are gone. The cross stands bare. Jesus, the one who was believed to be the Messiah, the long-awaited King, now lies in a tomb.

Holy Saturday is the space between despair and resurrection. It is the in-between place where nothing seems to move, and God seems quiet. It is not yet Easter. And it is no longer Good Friday. It is the suspended breath of grief.

The dark night of the soul often feels just like this: a season of silence, where nothing seems to be happening outwardly, and yet, something is taking root deep within.

Today, we will explore more deeply the dark night of the soul, drawing from the wisdom of those who have walked this path before us.

Today we walk together through the sacred stillness of Good Friday, one of the most solemn and holy days in the Christian calendar. It is a day to pause, to feel, and to contemplate Love crucified, the moment when the Incarnation reaches its deepest descent. God enters fully into the anguish of the human experience out of love for a broken world.

Good Friday is the silence of God, no miracles, no rescue, no voice from heaven. And yet, this silence is not absence, but a deep and purifying presence. It is the dark night of the soul.

As we continue our journey, today’s reflection brings us into the grace of Holy Thursday. The Scriptures lead us to a sacred table where Jesus shares a final meal with His disciples and then takes a simple act, washing their feet, that reveals the depth of His love and the shape of His way.

There is something deeply human and deeply divine about this moment. Jesus, the one they call Master and Lord, bends low to serve. With water and a towel, He honors each of them. It’s a gesture that speaks not only of love, but of humility, something we are invited to reflect on with care and sincerity today.

Today, on Holy Wednesday, we reflect on a major turning point in the journey of Jesus: the betrayal by Judas Iscariot. This act seals the course of what is to come, setting into motion the final unfolding of Jesus’s earthly path.

To guide us deeper today, I want to introduce you to Emma Curtis Hopkins (1849–1925), a remarkable mystic and spiritual teacher from the early 20th century. We’ll be using her Mystical Christianity framework to meditate on the events of Holy Wednesday.

Today’s Scripture, Mark 11:12–26, invites us into a powerful triad of moments that together form a mirror for our own inner lives. In three distinct yet interwoven parts: the cursing of the fig tree, the cleansing of the temple, and Jesus’ teaching on prayer, we are drawn into a deeper examination of our hearts, our habits, and our hidden places.

Together, these three scenes form a single arc: exposing barrenness, cleansing distortion, and revealing the way of authentic spiritual power. It is a call to return beyond form and tradition, into the heart of God. We are invited to check in with ourselves. What parts of our lives appear full but are lacking in substance? What needs to be cleared to make room for something deeper? Where is God inviting us to grow in faith, honesty, and forgiveness?

Holy Week is the most sacred period in the Christian liturgical calendar. It begins with Palm Sunday and culminates in Easter Sunday, commemorating the final days of Jesus’s earthly life: his entry into Jerusalem, his Last Supper with his closest companions, his suffering and crucifixion, and his miraculous resurrection.

This week opens a sacred mirror in which we glimpse our own path. As we walk with Jesus through vulnerability, loss, and love, his journey becomes a spiritual map for our transformation.

One of the most beautiful gifts of this pilgrimage is that it invites me to revisit the wisdom I’ve gathered over the past 25 years of dedicated study and practice of religions and heirloom sacred wisdom. Not just as a guide walking beside you, but as a fellow pilgrim, also re-deepening my relationship with God. This journey is allowing me to let this wisdom breathe again, to welcome it with fresh eyes.

So today, I’m sharing my response to this week’s spiritual assignment: “Which love language do I need to receive more deeply from God?”

The Five Love Languages, originally outlined by Dr. Gary Chapman, can be reimagined spiritually as a way to explore how God loves us and how we can love God back.

Today, we’ll look at the five love languages not just in how we receive love from one another, but how God speaks them to us, and how we might return that love in our own unique ways. How do we love God more intentionally, not just instinctively, and allow ourselves to be loved by God more intentionally in return?

We are now in the second reflection of this part of the journey: “Meeting and getting acquainted with God.” The first reflection invited us to sit with sin: not as shame, but as disconnection; the places where we turn away from our Source.
And now we shift toward intimacy, toward relationship.

Since sin is a central theme in Abrahamic traditions, which have shaped much of the world’s spiritual and cultural landscape, it’s important that we take time to explore it. Today, we will begin reframing the concept of sin, moving from fear toward a deeper, healing relationship with the Divine.

Fasting is not about perfection; it is about transformation. There will be days when you hold steadfast, feeling the grace of discipline and clarity of spirit. And there will be days when you stumble, when the thing you intended to let go of pulls you back in, when the hunger for what is familiar overtakes the hunger for God.

This first week of our Lenten pilgrimage has been a sacred journey of recognition, healing, and renewal. As God rested on the seventh day, we too take this time to pause, reflect, and deepen our connection with what has been revealed.

As we journey through Lent, seeking to heal our image of God and name who God truly is for us, we arrive at a moment of profound mystery and revelation. To name God is to enter into relationship, yet every name remains incomplete. This is an endless topic, but in my own ever-blossoming journey of naming the unnamable, I want to share two particular insights with you.

The way we perceive and relate to God profoundly shapes who we are. If our image of God is distorted, marked by fear, harsh judgment, or conditional love, our spiritual life and relationships will reflect these qualities. Conversely, a healed, life-giving image of God leads to transformation, inner freedom, and love.

As we continue our Lenten journey of healing and deepening our connection with God, today we are invited into a prayer practice that gently guides us toward healing our image of God.

Today’s teaching is an extract from the book “Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God” written by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn, and Matthew Linn.

Spiritual Assignment: Healing the God Wound

This assignment is designed to guide you through the healing process, allowing you to reflect deeply, release burdens, and reclaim a personal, life-giving spirituality.

On this first day, we turn our attention to religious trauma. The purpose of this reflection is not to question faith itself, but to recognize the harm that certain religious environments, teachings, and structures have caused. Awareness is the first step in healing.