Lent

The other day, I was hanging out with a group of Christian friends and the topic of discussion turned to Lent. At some point in the conversation, a guy in the group said something to the effect of “Oh, I’ve given up over-rated Christian traditions for Lent. So there!”

My first response? Wow, what a terribly Baptist response. (I am Baptist. I can say this.)

Second thought: Wow, what a terribly dumb thing to say. This was quickly followed by a reminder not to say everything that was going through my mind out loud.

The guy’s words kind of stung me. I, like him, didn’t grow up in a home or a church tradition that observed the liturgical calendar. I didn’t know what Advent was until I went to college and I only knew what Lent was because I sometimes baby-sat for the one Catholic family in my hometown and the mom, Angie (who passed away last year), once told my mom that she had given up chocolate for Lent, which lead to a conversation with my mom about what Lent was.

I didn’t grow up fasting during Lent. While fasting is a spiritual discipline, it’s one I’ve only tried to cultivate recently in my life. And several years ago, as an adult living in Nashville, Lent became very close to my heart. I remember the first time I fasted for 40 days during Lent. I remember what I gave up. I remember that it made me think about the things of God differently. I remember that while my sacrifice was small in contrast to Christ’s, I learned a little about what it meant to deny myself.

As someone who grew up in non-liturgical, evangelic circles, traditions of the Church haven’t been a big part of my life.  I don’t believe in going through the motions of traditions that have no meaning to me just because they’re traditions and we should do them to be considered good Christians. But I do think that there is a part of our hearts as believers that longs for meaningful acts to focus our piety, worship, and witness. We need tangible acts and meaningful traditions to help us remember why we do what we do, why we celebrate Jesus’ death, and proclaim who we are. I think that there’s a part of every believer that hungers for the symbolism that speaks the truths about our faith that we can’t find the right words for.

And there is a part of me, each Easter, that needs the 40 days of preparation. A part of me that needs the soul-searching. A part of me that needs the pageantry of Palm Sunday and the despair of Good Friday so that I remember and can truly partake of the joy of Easter. Some things deserve to be approached with consideration, thought, and even sacrifice. In my mind, Easter is one of those things.

And sometimes, it takes the traditional fasting and penitence of Lent to get me to the place where I can celebrate Easter in spirit and truth.