Seven Lenten Sonnets—Andrew Peterson

Andrew Peterson, singer, songwriter, author, and founder of the Rabbit Room, has been writing Lenten Sonnets on his own Substack. We’ve selected a few of our favorites here and encourage to go read the rest of them for yourself as we approach Good Friday and Easter.

by Andrew Peterson

Lenten Sonnet I, 2025

Remember Death. Thus begins the journey.
Forty days I travel downward, weaving
Through the headstones of the shadowed valley,
Adding my own dirge to the din, grieving
The grim reality of Death’s power.
My soul is bright with love, candle held high
And fragile in the face of this dark hour
When for a little while the springs are dry.
Let this thirst for light and water remind,
Restore, recalibrate my heart’s compass,
And guide my hungry soul until I find
A well, a fire, a feast at Easter mass.
You alone, Lord, are life, and light, and breath.
You and only you can dismember Death.

Lenten Sonnet III, 2025

My pond is overrun with green algae.
Last fall the leaves wheeled down to the water
And lay on the surface beautifully
For a time. But sunken leaves are fodder
For algae. The accumulation mucks
The floor of the pond, layers living death
That feeds a killing creep that slowly sucks
The oxygen till fish can’t catch a breath.
So yesterday I waded in waist deep.
I placed two aerator hoses, climbed out,
Flipped the switch, watched a bloom of bubbles leap,
Spread, and stir, ending the watery drought.
The metaphor is too obvious to name,
But--come, Holy Spirit, all the same.

Lenten Sonnet V, 2025

The perfect law is like a looking glass:
We peer into its light to see our souls
And rightly we behold what’s come to pass:
The likeness of our Father filled with holes--
And not a marred reflection do we see,
As elsewhere we pretend the flaw resides,
But mark our imperfection perfectly,
Exposing every sin our nature hides.
But as I gaze a figure far appears
From deep and distant past to fill the frame.
A face--his face!--transfigures all my fears,
And gives to me a new and secret name.
In Christ, the law condemns me nevermore;
The looking glass becomes an open door.

Lenten Sonnet VIII, 2025

He asked me what I learned by writing books.
So many answers came into my head
That I had to pause, conscious of the looks
Of students waiting for some golden thread.
The honest truth I tried to tell was this:
Everybody hurts. It’s true in both ways.
Everybody suffers, suffers sin’s kiss,
And gropes their way through the suffering maze.
But never--not once--did I, as I led
My young characters into their story,
Though they walked into darkness and dread,
Intend them any end but their glory.
My love was a fire that healed as it burned.
And the Lord is my author. That’s what I learned.

Lenten Sonnet XVII, 2025

If you were trying to empty a jar
Of air, the pastor said, the quickest way
Is to fill it with water. A guitar
In the hands of a brave woman can stay
The old accuser’s lies that fill my head
When she pours out her heart in a song.
If you want to keep the weeds from the bed,
Fill it with seeds till the flowers are strong.
“Repent!” Our Lord said; I’ve heard it before:
A turning away from the sins we hide.
And I always tried harder to ignore
The tempter’s dark voice--believe me, I tried.
Teach me, Lord, not just to repent from sin,
But to repent to you again, again. 

Lenten Sonnet XXII, 2025

Almighty God, who rested from your art
After speaking to life this creation,
And decreed a day to be set apart
(You, Infinite, welcomed limitation!):
Grant, O Lord, that we, putting away fear
And banishing earthly anxiety,
May prepare to serve you here

In the stillness of your sanctuary,
And that our rest here, this very weekend,
And every sabbath on this fair planet,
Would demonstrate in time what you intend
And have intended since you began it:
New Heavens, a New Earth; dreams coming true;
Work and rest resting in you. 

Lenten Sonnet XXXII

O come, let us make music to the Lord;
His salvation is strong--let us rejoice.
Let us come before him in one accord,
Singing joyful psalms with a thankful voice. 
For the Lord is a great God, a great King
Above all gods. In his hand are the deeps
Of the earth; the heights are in his keeping.
He owns the sea. He made it. And the sweeps
Of dry land? He crafted every acre. 
O come, let us worship him and fall down,
And bow low before the Lord our Maker.
For he is our God and we are his own,
The people of his wide green pastureland,
Grazing sheep in the safety of his hand. 

These sonnets originally appeared on Andrew Peterson’s Substack as part of a continuing series of Lenten Sonnets. Read the entire collection here.

Andrew Peterson is a singer-songwriter, founder of the Rabbit Room, creator of numerous albums, and author of The Wingfeather Saga.