By: Deacon Anna Palfreeman
Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. I did not grow up practicing Lent. I grew up in a non-denominational church that didn’t talk about any “high church” practices like the liturgy, reciting corporate prayers and creeds, or any of the Catholic holidays. For the longest time I thought it was pronounced “Monday Thursday” and have only recently discovered it is, in fact, “Maundy Thursday.” Ash Wednesday and Lent are still relatively new ideas to me.
Five or so years ago, I started to hear about people observing Lent. To me, it seemed like a Christian version of a New Years Resolution. Choose something in your life that you want to cut back on (whether it’s eating sugar, drinking alcohol, watching TV, or social media consumption), then don’t do it for 40 days. But then you can pick up where you left off come Easter. This felt hollow. Stop eating sugar for 40 days and then just start again after Easter? Isn’t that more of a diet than something spiritual?
In her book “Prayer in the Night,” Tish Harrison Warren talks about the idea of Christian asceticism. The practice of abstaining from certain pleasures for the purpose of sharing in Christ’s sufferings. She makes the point that denying yourself on purpose through fasting (not just from food, but from a myriad of things) is practice for the suffering that we all will inevitably face throughout life. “We deny ourselves some small pleasure, some perceived need, and we find what slaves we have become to the things we use to console ourselves,” she writes. Conversely, if we never allow ourselves physical hardship by cushioning our discomfort with modern conveniences, we don’t get the opportunity to see where Jesus is in our grief. If every time I feel anxious, I pull out my phone to distract myself, I’ll never get to see where Jesus is at in my anxiety.
Warren also wisely points out that the practices of fasting, lent, or asceticism are not for all people in all seasons. Sometimes life is filled with anguish and all we can do is try to survive. We serve a compassionate God who is near to the brokenhearted. We don’t need to worry about adding more spiritual disciplines on top to our already overwhelming circumstances. But sometimes, there is wisdom in choosing little bits of suffering for yourself. Choosing to not partake in every comfort that our society offers.
Before having kiddos, Mark and I struggled to get pregnant. That season was relatively short for us compared to many others, but while I was in it, it felt very long. I remember coming to a place of acceptance. The phrase “there is something sacred about suffering,” came to mind over and over. For some reason, this seems to be a pattern in Scripture and in the lives of myself and the people around me. Jesus captures hearts through grief. Personally, I don’t love that. I would rather have an easy life without pain. But Jesus works through the tears.
Lent is a time for me to experiment with this idea. Maybe if I can choose to deny myself some small thing, I can see that suffering is not at odds with God’s goodness. Maybe I can be a little bit more humble, a little bit more dependent, and a little bit more like Him. Lent isn’t a command in scripture or a thing that every Christian needs to observe. But for some, there might be wisdom in it. And Jesus might meet you in that suffering no matter how small it may be.
I encourage you during this season of Lent to ponder these things. Whether you traditionally adhere to the principals of Lent or not, I ask you to not let it pass you by. Just as the Advent season prepares our hearts for the joy of Christmas, Lent adds to the beauty of Easter. The Christian faith is built on the radical love of Jesus that included him choosing anguish, loneliness, brutality, and death. Our society will continue in the same noisy way it always does, but I hope that as Christians, we can take this time to pause, slow down, and reflect. Jesus is real and just as powerful today as He was 2000 years ago. He’s not just in the celebration of Easter. He’s also in the heartbreak of Good Friday and in the fasting of Lent. My prayer is that His love will become even more real to you over the next 40 days.