Lent Is Almost Here…Shall We Talk About Fasting?

It is that time of year again. January seems to have overstayed its New Year’s welcome, the Christmas season feels like a fever dream, and the warmth of spring seems beyond our imaginative grasp. During this time of year, I believe many of us are thinking the same thing: “I need a holiday.” If this has been a thought of yours in the last month, then you are right on schedule. The majority of holiday bookings, outside of Black Friday and Cyber Monday, take place between January and March.

Now, holidays, are intended to be just that—“holy days.” But something happens when we hear “holy day” rather than “holiday” or “vacation.” The words “holiday” or “vacation” ignite a joyous spark in our hearts as we envision a week on the Mediterranean or simply a few days of relaxation. However, when we hear “holy day,” that joyous spark usually fails to kindle. This might be because we tend to imagine “holy days” as obligatory religious observances or commemorations that hardly feed our souls the same way a holiday does.

Believe it or not, during the time of year when, as a culture, we are most craving a holiday, the Christian calendar offers our restless souls one, and—get this—it is a forty-day holiday. “Forty days?” you might be asking, “What holiday lasts forty days?”

Set in the heart of winter's chill and extending onto the foyer of spring’s glow lies Lent.

“Lent?!” you may be shouting, feeling tricked.

“Believe it or not, during the time of year when, as a culture, we are most craving a holiday, the Christian calendar offers our restless souls one, and—get this—it is a forty-day holiday.”

I’ll admit, I did trick you; and, I will also admit, I am right there with you. Let's face it, we share this reaction because Lent, in many ways, is every bit of a “holy day” in our imaginations and the complete opposite of a “holiday.” Holidays are something we look forward to, a time when we are refreshed, enjoy new experiences, and splurge on moments we have worked hard to save for.

Lent, and specifically its kickoff on Ash Wednesday, goes against everything we desire from a holiday—or does it? For those who participate in a traditional Ash Wednesday service, the priest or minister takes ashes made from the leaves from the palm branches used for Palm Sunday the previous year and smears them on the forehead of the congregant in the shape of a cross while stating, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Talk about a terrible start to your holiday.

I think we’d all much prefer the rubbing of sun lotion in preparation for a Mediterranean holiday rather than the smearing of ashes on our foreheads that remain with us for the rest of our Wednesday. And to make matters worse, it is proper Lenten practice to give up something we love for forty days. Not just something we like, and no, not something we know we should be giving up just for our overall health or because we can’t stand it, but something that is in many ways good and something that we dearly love.

This practice of self-denial and the timeline of forty days is bound up in the Gospels’ record of Jesus. At the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry on earth, he is driven by the Spirit into the wilderness (not the best start to a holiday either). Over those forty days, Jesus fasts and prays, and we can only imagine he meditated on the upcoming events that would take place over the next three years that would forever change history. At the end of the forty days, Jesus is tempted three times with a “holiday” away from his fast. Satan tempts Jesus not just to break the self-denying path he has forged in the past forty days but also from the path forged for the redemption of the cosmos through his death and resurrection. As we know, Jesus does not succumb to the temptation, as the previous cast of biblical figures had, but overcomes it and presses toward the rising sun of resurrection morning.

So how does Lent play into this? The invitation of Lent is to give up something that we enjoy to awaken our souls to a deeper and purer longing for God. Very few Christians from the West engage in spiritual disciplines, and I would guess that of all the disciplines, fasting would be near the bottom rung. It is contrary to everything we experience in the West. A consumeristic, comfortable, fast-paced culture has no time (or desire) for inconvenience or discomfort. Or do we?

May I offer Exhibit A, your honor? The cold plunge.

I’ve been amazed at the rising popularity of the cold plunge. It is wild to me (and I’m saying this partly as a confession as someone who has made delving into cold water somewhat of a practice), how many have taken on the discipline of momentary discomfort of cold water in the name of future betterment. Friends, is fasting all that different? It is quite easy to abuse fasting and transform it into a sadistic form of self-punishment, making it the end rather than the means, as we can so often do with our fasting and other disciplines. When approached in a healthy manner, it isn’t that we desire moments of discomfort for discomfort’s sake, but we partake in them because we know that on the other side our bodies (and our souls) will experience a level of betterment that we desperately crave. In Christian fasting, this betterment is deeper unity with God and greater transformation into the image of Christ, the chief aim of the disciplines.

“With every passing sunset in the Lenten season, the sun will remain a few more minutes each evening, and with that growing light, God is preparing our souls to bask in the morning glow of resurrection morning in deeper unity with Him.”

I am rather new at taking Lent, the Christian liturgical calendar, and spiritual disciplines with any seriousness. I recognize that not all evangelical streams embrace the church calendar or the practice of Lent, but I want to offer that fasting can still be incorporated into your normal church rhythms. Before closing, I want to offer my review from my own fasts—you will fail. Constantly. Whether it is that your imagination's desire for the thing you gave up is greater than your desire for God, or you break your fast out of weakness, or you brag to your friends about your fast, or you simply forget to direct your attention to God and find yourself complaining through most of it—you will fail, and that is okay.

As I said before, fasting and spiritual disciplines are not the central thing, and a “holy day” is not the central thing. The central thing is deeper unity with God. So, I invite you, if you feel so led and can do so in good conscience, to inhabit this time, don the ashes on February 14, deny yourself something you love, and step into this holiday with me. It is one that will ultimately provide refreshment, new experiences, and greater depth in our relationship with God—all things we are ultimately craving from our holidays. As your desire and faith waver in this time (and they will), remember that grace abounds. With every passing sunset in the Lenten season, the sun will remain a few more minutes each evening, and with that growing light, God is preparing our souls to bask in the morning glow of resurrection morning in deeper unity with Him.