As a believer who grew up in the Protestant Church, I would venture to say that I lived in the equivalent of the Church Calendar’s Ordinary Time for most of the year.
The order each week was the same, namely 30 minutes of singing, announcements, a 45-minute sermon (homily), and then another song usually serving as the benediction. To be fair, it would have been almost impossible to live outside the Church Calendar altogether--my church would light candles each week of Advent, there were baptisms on Easter Sunday, and sometimes a sermon would even be preached on Pentecost in the summer.
For the most part, however, the little liturgy we had remained the same--and then, at around the age of 14, I discovered the season of Lent.
There was something powerful, even at a young age, about entering a season meant to hold sacrifice, reflection, and prayer. This wasn’t an ordinary season -- it was a 40-day-long period of preparation for Easter. Choosing to give up something I didn’t need to remind myself of the ultimate sacrifice made by Lord Jesus Christ. It made Good Friday sorrowful and poignant, Holy Saturday long and anticipatory, and Resurrection Sunday that much more glorious. That very first year I decided to observe Lent was perhaps the most joyful Easter I’ve celebrated to date.
NOT ABOUT ACTION
It can be incredibly easy to take the “actions” of Lent for the entirety of the season. Each year as the season rolls around, the question “what are you giving up for Lent?” begins to circulate, and it feels like the list of things to do grows ever-longer. What should I give up? Is there something I should replace it with? Am I being challenged enough? What do I do if I’ve messed up?
Amid the earthly challenges we’re encouraged to place upon ourselves, it is frighteningly easy to miss the real objective of Lent.
It’s often forgotten that, unlike a season of celebration or commemorating, Lent is actually a season of waiting -- we’re waiting for Easter. We’re waiting for the Resurrection. There are all kinds of truths that could be said about how this season of waiting edifies us, and those are valuable lessons; but Lent, at its heart, is really a road to take us to its destination.
We don’t practise Lent to see if we can go forty days without chocolate. We practise it to anticipate, to long for, to remind ourselves just how good the ending of our story is.
THEREFORE, LET US KEEP THE FEAST
Each week at my church, just after the Eucharist has been consecrated, our priest breaks the bread and says, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.” The congregation responds, “Therefore, let us keep the feast” -- and, outside of the season of Lent, concludes with, “Alleluia!”
I still think about one memorable first Sunday of Lent -- a friend of mine was the director of music there, and, during that portion of the liturgy, we all replied, “Therefore, let us keep the feast!” Then, confidently, my friend cried in a loud voice, “Alleluia!” -- over a silent congregation!
We all had a good laugh over the honest mistake; but it highlighted an important Lenten truth. As humans, we grow used to things and begin to take them for granted -- including the Resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ. Lent removes the “Alleluia” and forces us to confront the normality we’ve bestowed upon the regular celebration of Christ’s sacrifice. Are we rejoicing out of habit? Or does our “Alleluia” truly mean something?
This Lent, it is my prayer that we await more than simply an arbitrary date for when we’re allowed to stop fasting. Fasting is a valuable spiritual discipline, but when it isn’t properly given context, it can become just as rote as starting a new diet. These 40 days may include self-deprivation--but that deprivation is what is showing us our weakness, our need for a Savior, and the real beauty of what was sacrificed for us over 2000 years ago.
Easter is a glorious season for celebrating that we have been “bought for a price” (1 Cor. 6:20), saved from our own inherent sinfulness by a God who is most gracious, merciful, and loving -- but we can’t truly, fully celebrate that without understanding the depth of our need for a Savior. Lent is the season for gaining that understanding. When we fast, pray, and live repentantly in a way that shows us our own weakness, that incredible celebration of Christ’s sacrifice and strength gains a new gravity--and on this coming early Easter morning, that new depth of sorrow will be filled with just as much joy.
Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Therefore, let us keep the feast--and all the people await the Alleluia.
