Giving Up Lent

Today is Ash Wednesday. It is the day in the various manifestations of the Christian faith where followers of Christ traditionally choose to give something up for the 40 days between now and Easter Sunday. This is typically a time for spiritual reflection, a time for people to give up a distraction in their lives in order to get closer to God. The idea is that if we’re not doing something else, we are actively trying to seek out what God would have us do. This practice is supposed to represent Christ’s time in the wilderness, where, according to the Christian scriptures, Christ spent 40 days in the Judean desert fasting from food and drink, sitting in the dirt, being tempted by Satan, and being served by angels. It’s really not a bad idea, but I’ve never been particularly good at it.

My faith tradition doesn’t have much to say about “fasting” in its various forms for Lent. If you want to, fine. If you don’t want to, that’s okay as well. I gave up chocolate one year (my friends made me swear to never do it again,) and one year I tried giving up biting my nails. I tried adding in painfully honest journaling, and I’ve attempted a devotional a time or four. Each time I felt there was something missing, something I wasn’t doing right. I felt less like I was getting closer to God and more like I was fighting with myself (which I do enough without any holy season’s help, thank you very much.) As I was reflecting on today’s multitude of Facebook and Twitter posts—“What are you giving up for #Lent ?”—it suddenly struck me what it is about this season that makes me feel a little…lost.

The 40 days of Lent are supposed to mark Christ’s time in the wilderness, but how do you faithfully remember someone’s time in the wilderness when you often feel that your whole damn life is spent in the wilderness?

Now, I don’t mean to say that I feel lost and directionless and that I have no momentum in my life. I have a great church community, wonderful friends, fantastic family, and a meaningful career; but I do have WAY more questions than answers and I often feel like I can’t see the forest for the trees. The good part is, though, this is okay.

I’ve been realizing for some time that somewhere along the way I got the idea that being a good follower of Jesus meant that I would feel mowed over most of the time; as though doing God’s will meant I should feel like I was plodding uphill in the snow wearing 60 pounds of gear headed for a destination I despised. That if I was enjoying something it must be inherently wrong. This is not only bad theology and mildly delusional, but is also absolutely incorrect.

Yes, God calls us to do hard things that will feel like we’re plodding uphill in the snow, but God will also ask us to do fun things and amazing things and hopefully we’ll get to feel like we’re making a difference in the world. Jesus didn’t say, “I came that you may have a life of misery and awfulness.” He said, “I came that you may have life and have it to the full!” Yes, “to the full” means that you have to take crappy with happy, but there should also be plenty of happy with the crappy.

Which gets me back to Lent. I’m giving it up. Sort-of.

I finally decided that if Lent makes you feel crappy, you’re probably doing it wrong. Practices in Lent are supposed to make you feel closer to God, and if I read the book correctly getting closer to God should not make you feel crappy. A lot of emotional reactions are associated with meetings with the divine—everything from cower-in-a-corner scared to dance-naked-in-the-streets joyous—but crappy isn’t one of them.

So, what am I giving up for Lent? I’m giving up crappy. I’m giving up feeling like I’m living wrong if I feel joyful. I’m giving up assuming that God wants me plodding uphill. Sometimes life just happens. As Frederick Buechner said, “Welcome to the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Do not be afraid.”

In order to give up the crappy, I’m taking on the happy. I’m taking on impromptu dance parties to my favorite song-of-the-moment. I’m taking on sending encouraging texts to friends. I’m taking on not feeling guilty for naps. I’m taking on more runs. I’m taking on writing blog posts about what I’m taking on in an effort to remain accountable to the universe. I’m taking on getting closer to God.