
Lent 2025 starts today, and with it a period of reflection. This year I’m trying something new: combining scripture and the outdoors for some reflective, prayerful walks. My plan is to do at least two a week.
Today I started with Psalm 51. If you aren’t familiar with this one, it’s a psalm of repentance. I read it through and set off, mulling over some of the phrases. What struck me most was the complete dependence on God. The psalmist brings all their faults, all their wrongdoings, to God, knowing that only God has the ability to wipe them away completely. God’s judgment is final, but in His mercy, He makes us clean when we ask for it. And that’s the second thing that stood out — the psalmist knows he can ask for forgiveness.
When we face people who might hold things against us, blame, or ridicule us, it can feel safer to hide or shift blame elsewhere. But to come before someone, open and vulnerable, asking for forgiveness, suggests deep trust. The psalmist shows that trust — he knows God is the only one who can truly cleanse him, and he knows God is willing to do so. That’s really quite remarkable, and a powerful place to start this Lent.
Something else struck me while I was out. Do you ever look up at the night sky? What do you see? Today’s walk was quite late, so it was dark, and the night was clear. My route took me through an area with little artificial light. Something else struck me while I was out. The clear night froze my fingers, but it also revealed the stars. I love looking up at the night sky, but so often, I can’t see much because of light pollution. But tonight, away from the man-made street- and house-lights, I could see the stars and the moon in all their glory.
Reflecting on Psalm 51, this felt like a living metaphor. It’s easy to get distracted by the artificial — the busyness and noise of life. But when we step away from the glare, we encounter something genuine and authentic. Likewise with God — we’re surrounded by things that try to fill a gap, but when we pull back from the noise and distractions, we come face to face with the real, authentic God. I can come, as I am, with no masks, nothing artificial, and know that God wants me, faults and all. And God, in His mercy, won’t hold it against me when I get it wrong.
Looking at the stars, I was reminded to be honest and real — because God’s creation is breathtaking, and His love is even more so. So, taking my lead from the writer of Psalm 51, knowing I am not perfect, I will spend some time this Lent acknowledging my own faults and reflecting on God’s grace and mercy.