Lent

We didn’t really observe Lent while I was growing up, but it’s become more common among those in the Reformed tradition to spend the days between Ash Wednesday and Easter reflecting on Jesus’ suffering. Part of the tradition is to “give something up” as a spiritual discipline, a means of sharing in Christ’s suffering in some small way and of preparing for the resurrection.

Some give up chocolate or red meat or Facebook. In years past I’ve given up shopping and swearing and Diet Coke, and some other things that I don’t remember. One of my favorite Lenten projects was the year that I talked the kids into giving up name calling. I got each of them a bag of their favorite candy, and each time they called someone a name they lost a piece. It was pretty powerful; name calling in our home decreased dramatically. And then on Easter, I gave them all of their candy, even the stuff they had lost, because I wanted to teach them about grace. It was a good lesson, but you can only really do it once.

Today, on the cusp of Ash Wednesday, I’ve been debating what to give up. The last month has had more than its share of difficult moments; there’s been death and disappointment and sadness—the stuff of life, and maybe not any more than usual, but it has felt like a lot. So lately when I think of giving up, it’s not about a spiritual discipline, but about quitting, about hunkering down under a blanket and making the world go away. I’ve had moments when I’ve wanted to give up being a mom, give up on people, give up my goals and dreams, and give up on my usually firm conviction that there is more good in the world than bad.

I have, from time to time, given up hope.

So this year for Lent, I will strive to give up on giving up. I will replace moments of despair with moments of prayer. Instead of hunkering down, I will gear up. Lent is a time to remember suffering as an act of worship, but it’s not a time to worship suffering itself. The only way to get through Lent is to keep moving. Things might get worse before they get better, but they will get better. There is always a reason to hope.