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One of the few remaining links between Christianity and the culture is the idea of “giving something up for Lent”. Chances are that someone you know who has no interest in Jesus will be observing Lent—disciplining themselves to give something up between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday.
And here are two very good reasons why not to join them:
… it’s a pointless exercise. Paul says that the world loves to impose “Do not…” rules (Colossians 2 v 20-21)—which is strange, since it’s usually Christianity that is accused of doing just that. But it’s true—everyone loves to decide some rules, keep to them, and then feel good about themselves and superior to those who aren’t as “good” as them. But “such regulations [that] have an appearance of wisdom … lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence” (v 23). We do not defeat wrong desires by denying them, so much as by redirecting them. So if we struggle, for instance, with eating too much chocolate, the solution will never be to give chocolate up, but to work out why we desire the chocolate, and then seek to satisfy that desire in worshipping Christ, not chocolate. It’s pointless to give something up without replacing it with something greater.
… it’s about looking good. If I give something up for Lent because others do—so that I have an answer to the “Why are you giving something up for Lent?” question—then I am doing it to be seen to be doing it. It makes me an actor—just pretending to be something I’m not, so that I fit into the scene around me. The Greek word for “actor” is the root of our word “hypocrite”. And Jesus was pretty firm about it: “When you fast, do no look sombre as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full”—right now, in the present, from those who are (mildly) impressed with their ability to fast (Matthew 6 v 16). Jesus says that, if and when we fast or give something up, we should make every effort to ensure others don’t notice—because the only eyes whose view we should care about belong to our heavenly Father (v 17-18). Maybe you give stuff up secretly all the time (or for Lent), and no one knows… but I know that in the past my Lent self-denial has been done for the eyes of others, in plain sight, rather than hidden, for the eyes of God alone.
So, you’re off the hook, aren’t you?! Not quite. Here’s one very good reason to give something up for Lent…
When was the last time you actually denied yourself something you wanted? We talk about it a lot in church, because we know that Jesus talked about it a lot in the Gospels. But when was the last time you cut something out of your life, that you wanted to be in your life? I’m very good at denying myself things I don’t much want, or things I do want but can’t have (this year, I’m giving up foreign holidays for Lent). But we are used, in the west, to having what we want. And we belong to a culture that celebrates feasting, not fasting. Perhaps if we were medieval Christians, where the focus was more unhelpfully on asceticism (going without good things) rather than hedonism (worshipping good things), we should be throwing feasts, and encouraging each other to “Take something up for Lent”. But we don’t. And if we don’t practice giving things up that we want, then we’re unlikely to be the kind of Christians who give up things that we want but that are sinful. Put another way: if I can’t or won’t give up chocolate for forty days, am I really going to be disciplined enough to cut out completely, for life, the next sinful attitude or behaviour the Holy Spirit points out to me. Jesus assumes we will be people who go without things we want: he says “When you fast” not “If you fast” (Matthew 6 v 16).
So perhaps this year, this Lent, you might, very quietly, making every effort to hide it from others, give something up. Maybe you might, very privately, say to your Lord: I know that you are my greatest need and the fulfiller of all my yearnings. But I find it hard to remember that, feel that, or live like that. This Lent, I’m giving up ………………. Lord, you know I enjoy that thing; I want to focus on you, my greatest thing. Lord, I know that it is a good thing; but I want to remind myself that you are my only ultimate thing. Help me to reach Easter loving you more, not loving this thing less. Help me, as I deny myself, to be teaching myself to desire you more. Amen.
Course, no one will ever know whether anyone did this. Except God, of course… “Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Matthew 6 v 18).
David