Today, we hear about Jesus being tempted in the desert. When we think of deserts, we often picture dry, barren landscapes that leave us tired and thirsty. But deserts can also be spiritual—parched places within our hearts and souls. These are the places that leave us feeling weak, vulnerable, and lost.
We’ve all been through deserts in our lives, where everything seems to fall apart and what once felt solid becomes uncertain. We’ve found ourselves in deserts where our health is failing, promises are broken, depression overwhelms us, and hope feels out of reach.
Have you ever felt that way? If so, know that you’re not alone. One of the challenges we face is holding on to emotional baggage. In other words, clinging to memories and experiences that can weigh us down.
Take the story of a woman who started a new job. It was a great opportunity—friendly coworkers, a generous salary, and an office close to home. Yet, she couldn’t stop talking about how awful her last job had been—the bad boss, the harsh conditions. She complained for weeks until a friend finally said, “Forget your old job and boss. Why not just enjoy this new chapter?”
Her friend then shared her own story. A few years back, she had moved into a beautiful new house. She hired a professional mover who asked what to pack. She replied, “Everything.”
The mover took her request literally, moving not only her furniture and belongings, but also the trash—old newspapers, empty ketchup bottles, and apple peels.
The point of this story? There are things in our lives that need to be let go of—things that weigh us down, emotionally and spiritually. It is now Lent, and it’s a good time to ask ourselves: Are we still carrying emotional or spiritual baggage? Are we holding on to sin, past hurts, betrayals, or guilt? The temptation to stay tied to the past is real, but we must let go.
Lent is a time to hand our baggage over to God, to release what holds us back, and move forward with renewed hearts. It’s a time for forgiveness and new beginnings. We cannot experience the joyful hope of Easter if we’re constantly looking back at our past.
This temptation to look back is part of our human nature. It even happened to Jesus. After fasting for 40 days, Jesus is tempted to abandon His mission. Each temptation is a temptation to power.
The devil says, “If you want people to follow You, show them something dramatic. Jump off the top of the Temple and let the angels catch you. If You want to rule the world, worship me and I’ll give you everything.”
But Jesus responds, “No. Your way is not my way. It is not bread that gives life, but the Word of God. It is not through spectacles that I reveal Myself. Look for Me among the lowly, the powerless, the crucified. I will not build a kingdom by becoming the most powerful, but by being the poorest.”
Satan offers a dishonest magic show, but God the Father offers salvation through the cross. Jesus responds, “Father, let Your will be done, not Mine.”
As we begin this Lenten season, let this be our guiding motto: “Not my will, but Your will.”
And, as we journey through Lent, we also remember that 2025 is the Church’s Jubilee Year, with the theme “Pilgrims of Hope.” This again reminds us that we are not alone in our desert. Our hope is rooted in Christ, who has already walked the path of suffering and temptation.
During this Jubilee, we are invited to reflect on our own life path, letting go of what weighs us down and stepping forward with renewed trust in God’s love.
