Why Lent is Important in Today's World

Admitting our Ending Helps A New Beginning

Photo by Ahna Ziegler on Unsplash

Lent wasn’t a “thing” for me until mid-way on life’s journey, I knew I needed Lent.  I was raised where Lent was never talked about, modeled or observed. I learned about Lent through necessity.

Lent became important when I realized more and more that life was not about me and that enough bad stuff had happened around me and in me that humility offered me more promise than pride did.

In Lent, we begin with the end in mind.  We begin in Lent to talk about being dust and ashes.  We came from the ground and we will all return. No exceptions. None!

I consider Ash Wednesday to be one of the most important days that we could all go to a church and participate in a service where we’re marked on our foreheads by a sooty-blackened ash and told, “You came from dust and to dust you shall return.”

If you’re church doesn’t observe this important service, then please look for one that does.

Being told these words—about being dust— is being told the very truth about our lives. In all of our attempts to understand our purpose, our Enneagram number and meaning in life; our striving attempts to make something of ourselves; and learning about our gifts and passions, what is most important is this: Lent invites us to begin the next 40 days with the end in mind.

When we begin with the end in mind, we can then have a better beginning. It reframes life. Lent frames the truth in life for us. We begin this way and Lent is the invitation to accept this truth and begin this way—a better way.

We are dust and we will all return to dust.

Imagine how this confession and posture would help us find some common ground in which we could stand—a common ground which is marked by humility rather than pride; a common ground of beginning where we are all level—the same—and in solidarity on a basic tenet of life that is rock solid and absolute. We are dust.

We can be united in our humility—not our differences. We are all united in the truth of being dust. This is a good beginning for us to acknowledge these days.

Humility is a good thing. Humility is a necessary thing.  Right after Jesus was told those remarkable and life altering words about being the very Beloved of God, his next 40 days were spent in the wilderness where that core and essential truth of identity would be put to the test.  Lent is joining the journey with Jesus into the wilderness to face ourselves and admit our true essence.

In Lent, we face three truths:

I am not what I do.

I am not what I have.

I am not what other people think of me.

These three truths help us make choices in the face of the three lies:

I am what I do.

I am what I have.

I am what other people think of me.

It’s radical to sit with these truths and it is healing to debunk the three lies. Lent is the journey to do this internal business. The lies are just so exhausting. Lent is about letting go of these lies—and others and embracing the truth about ourselves.

Lent begins with Ash Wednesday. This year, it’s tomorrow—February 14 and continues for the next 40 days.

Join me in the journey. And to help, here’s a simple exercise I developed that is a challenge in body and soul. It’s a 40 day challenge to walk one mile a day—preferable outdoors is you can. If walking is not an option physically, then try to sit alone outside for a few moments. Take one of the 40 questions, I’ve given you in the exercise and spend a few moments reflecting on the one question. Do this for the next 40 days and just pay attention to your inner life: What are you noticing? What are you feeling?  What’s bubbling up or sinking in?

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Last week, I went away on a silent retreat. The first half of my 48 hour retreat went well. I wrote two poems. I’m going to share one of them here. The second half of my silent retreat, I got so sick. It was ugly sick—not COVID but a hard and harsh virus.

As I reflect on these two poems, they came up during my first morning as I watched the sunrise and as I watched the sunrise and sky turn red, so too, I felt my heart rise. The clutter inside dissipated. I felt less crowded and these two poems were birthed.

Being intentional about being silent and quiet doesn’t mean our hearts will just follow suit. There’s a process and it takes time to quiet down, doesn’t it? Parents remember giving your kids a “Five minute warning” to just prepare them that bedtime and quiet is almost here? You have five more minutes to just settle down. Well on a silent retreat, most of us need more than five minutes to declutter our hearts. For me, it took several hours of not talking; of adjusting to my new space and to begin to move in slow time. This poem reflects my journey of adjustment and slowing. The poem tracks my 5 minute warning—which in my case, was like 10-12 hours of stilling my soul. It wasn’t easy. For me, it never is. I have a busy and active mind. But, this time, I noticed my slowing and this poem is the result.

I noticed in the night air the Milky Way and especially the Little Dipper. My poem focuses on the dipper as a ladle to bring something up in me that I needed to pay attention to—sort of like finding my North Star again.

My poems on Substack are shared because Substack is the way I feel best able to share this new work of writing poems these days. When you’re a “Paid Subscriber”, you get access to the poem. When you’re not, you’re not able to see the poem. But, you can read the narrative about Lent and the intro to my poem here. Thanks for your support in my work and ministry. I’m so grateful for you being a part of my life and sharing in this way. Thank you.

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash