Why I Give Something Up for Lent

The prototypical Lenten discipline is giving something up. Chocolate, sugar, red meat, coffee, Facebook, and television seem to be the standards, although the creative variations are endless. It usually goes something like this: somewhere around 10:00pm on "Fat Tuesday" (the day before Lent begins), we start trying to decide on something that we want to give up. We make the decision, usually based around what would be the least painful and most beneficial for us to give up. (Dropping dessert is not only a bit of a sacrifice, it can't hurt the waistline either!) We then ceremoniously declare our intent, and proceed to make known our great sacrifice over the course of the next six weeks to all who will listen. This leads up to the great feast day, Easter, in which we gorge on chocolate, sugar, steak, or what have you.

Maybe your discipline doesn't look exactly like that, but if you enter into this yearly ritual, it likely has some similarities. The question that comes to mind, which I've been bouncing around in my head for the past few days, is "Why?" What's the purpose? Ostensibly, we are identifying in some small way with the sacrifice of Jesus. However, me removing chocolate from my diet for six weeks while I eat what I like otherwise seems to bear approximately zero similarity to the God of the Universe taking on flesh and submitting Himself to condemnation, torture, and a brutal death. If that's the reason we engage this ritual, it seems that we've failed on many levels.

Disciplines are training. Like running intervals, lifting weights, or doing sit-ups, they train our bodies for one thing by doing something else. We don't train for the sake of training--no medals are ever awarded on a Tuesday afternoon on the practice field. We train for the sake of the game. Spiritually, we gain no eternal points for our fasting, our prayer, our Bible study discipline, or dragging ourselves once again to that small group meeting. But each of these things, like a well constructed practice regimen, lead us into the fullness of life. We don't "win" in the prayer closet, but because of our time there, we are able to see the Spirit of God shine through our lives in the most difficult of circumstances--normal life.

So why fast during Lent? Might it be that our call is not to equate a reduced intake of caffeine with the sacrifice of Jesus, but rather, we're practicing what is a much larger life principle? By taking something that is good--a gift from God--and willingly removing it for a period of time, we enter into the difficult but deeply profound reality: the good is nearly always the biggest enemy of the best.

Throughout the life of a believer in Jesus, our sinful behavior is identified, confessed, and placed on the altar. This is right, good, and necessary. However, it's not complete. Paul's words in Romans 12 are far more inclusive: "Therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God." (Romans 12:1) Our sin sacrificed--certainly. But the call is far greater. Not just the sinful portion of our lives, but all of our lives. Everything. Oswald Chambers says it this way: "Beware of refusing to go to the funeral of your own independence."

We intuitively understand that sinful behavior is wrong and needs to be replaced in Christ. However, for most of us, blatant sin is not the primary enemy of the Christ-life. Rather, it's the good behavior that gets in the way. The blessings. Those things that have been given by the grace of God and yet constantly threaten to become gods themselves. My sinful actions rarely stop me from the display of the Christ life in the world around me, at least not at this stage of my journey. My sin is far too hidden for that. Rather, the fact that I'm too busy staring at the television or seeking to gain my own comfort to even notice the suffering and pain of those around me is a much greater liability.

The great enemy of the Christ-life is my own independence. Paul's words again: "I have been crucified with Christ. It is  no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." (Galatians 2:20) It is my desire to choose my own path, make my own decisions, and assert my own will that blocks the life that Christ desires to live within me. The good things that I would choose get in the way of the best things that God desires for me.

And so, I give up bread and pasta and sugar this Lenten season. Yes, it will help the waistline, shaping my stubborn body a bit. But more importantly, passing up that bowl of ice cream at night will shape my soul. I'll pass on the good gifts of God by my choice over these next six weeks so that I might, by grace, learn to be more fully crucified with Christ the other 46 weeks this year, and every day forward.