When the Heart Enters the Wilderness

A Prayer for the One Who Stands Empty Before God at the Beginning of the Great Fast

O Lord Jesus Christ,

You who went alone into the desert,

not to escape the world,

but to conquer the heart,

lead me now into that same wilderness.

Strip from me the illusion that I am strong.

Strip from me the lie that I am righteous.

Strip from me the comfort of believing

that I have already begun.

I have lived among words.

I have hidden behind thoughts.

I have clothed myself in the appearance of devotion

while my heart remained divided.

Bring me into the place where there is no defense left.

Bring me into the silence where I see myself as I am.

Poor. Naked. Afraid. Restless. Hungry for everything but You.

O Christ, do not spare me the knowledge of my poverty.

This knowledge is mercy.

Let me feel the weight of my scattered soul.

Let me taste the bitterness of living far from You.

Let me see how weak I am when I trust in myself.

But do not leave me there.

Plant within me the cry that the fathers knew.

The cry that rises not from strength but from desperation.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

Let this cry become my breath.

Let it follow me into the night.

Let it wake me in the darkness.

Let it remain when every other prayer has died.

Break my pride gently, but completely.

Break the part of me that wants to be seen.

Break the part of me that wants to be praised.

Break the part of me that wants to live without repentance.

Grant me tears, O Lord.

Not the tears of self-pity,

but the tears that cleanse the heart

and make room for Your presence.

Teach me to love obscurity.

Teach me to love hiddenness.

Teach me to love the smallness of this life.

Let me not seek consolation.

Let me seek only You.

If You give light, I will bless You.

If You give darkness, I will bless You.

If You give silence, I will bless You.

If You hide Your face, I will wait.

Give me the patience of the fathers.

Give me the endurance of the martyrs of the heart.

Give me the humility of those who know they are nothing

and yet trust completely in Your mercy.

Let this Lent become truth.

Not an appearance.

Not a discipline alone.

Not a season observed.

But a death.

Let something false in me die.

Let something hardened in me break.

Let something blind in me finally see.

And in that death,

reveal Yourself,

O Christ,

the Life hidden in all who descend with You into the desert.

For You are the Companion of the solitary,

the Strength of the weak,

and the Mercy of sinners,

and to You I offer my poverty,

now and always,

and unto the ages of ages.

Amen.