The Sacred Struggle: Conquering Shame in the Desert of Lent

Denise Scott

For many Catholic women, Lent is seen as a time of spiritual spring cleaning where we swap chicken for shrimp, we give up KFC Zinger for fish filet sandwiches, and we make time for midday Mass. But for those who commit to a true 40-day wilderness experience of deepening their fast, intensifying their prayer life, and sitting in sustained silence, the reality is far more gruelling. When we stop the noise, we finally hear our own lives. It is in this ‘holy pause’ that an unexpected and formidable guest often arrives: shame.

Last year, my own Lenten journey felt less like a spiritual ascent and more like a collapse. I found myself trapped in a disorienting fog, struggling to discern if the heavy weight I felt was the solemnity of Lent or the biological upheaval of menopause. The physical exhaustion mirrored a spiritual drought. During this period, as I looked back at my life, the landscape was littered only with memories of guilt.

Every day in the Adoration room I would quietly ask, “God, can You really still love me?” and I answered for myself “ No…it’s not possible.” I was convinced that I was beyond the reach of forgiveness, certain that I simply did not deserve the love I had spent my life professing. I was judge, jury, and executioner of my own soul. I was overwhelmed with the shame of so many of my past decisions.

I hesitated because I did not want to share my sinful stories with even my dear parish priest, so I made my trek to Mt St Benedict and waited very, very, very, very,—did I say very?—very long for confession) I expected the priest to be mortified and to banish me from the planet. Instead, the priest listened and treated my mountain of guilt like a molehill in the face of God’s mercy. When he gave me a single decade of the Rosary as penance, I was indignant. That’s it? I walked across to the church, sitting there in the stillness, crying my heart out. I told God I deserved a worse punishment.

In that moment, the Holy Spirit descended with a warmth that defied my self-condemnation. I knew that he was present, and I felt an internal whisper: “I love you too much… and I know you would not walk that road again.” That’s when I real start to cry, the ‘theatrical’ crying, the ugly-cry, the kind with snot and loud sniffles! At that moment, two things happened: I prayed that the people in the pew in front of me did not turn around and I realised that God’s love is based on His character, not my performance.

Can I share with you two things that I learnt from that experience?

1.The Depth of Mercy: We only understand the scale of God’s love when we acknowledge the scale of what He has forgiven.

2.Healing vs Hiding: Hiding a wound causes infection. Exposing it to the ‘Sun of Justice’ allows the healing process to begin.

My prayer is that the period of Lent becomes a journey toward the empty tomb for all of us. Conquering shame doesn’t mean the past disappears; it means the past loses its power to condemn you.

As you navigate Lent, do not treat your shame as a sign of failure. Treat it as a sign that the light of Christ is finally reaching the corners you used to keep dark. By Easter morning, you will realise you didn’t need to forget your past to move forward you just needed to hand it over to the One who makes all things new.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash