Don't Give Up Anything for Lent ... Instead Gain a New Relationship with God

When I was kid and growing up Catholic, Ash Wednesday meant two things:

One, it meant cat washing your forehead immediately after the service, before you even made it to the parking lot, let alone the car.

And, it meant the beginning of “Fish Friday’s” at St. Paul’s, where for whatever reason—maybe to induce a little Lenten suffering into the dinner—the fish always came with a thousand tiny bones you had to “fish” out while eating, all the while hoping not to choke.

I had a very limited understanding of Ash Wednesday and Lent as a child.  Fish until Easter and then the Easter Bunny came and lots of candy.  It all seemed to work out in the end.

The funny thing is, I wasn’t all that far off in my understanding.

First, there’s suffering.

And then it all works out in the end.

It’s not a lot.  But it’s a good place to start.

Jesus suffers.  He dies.  Everything is hopeless, but then, the miracle—the tomb is empty.  Our Lord has risen from the dead.  It is a revelation that I have always pictured backlit by another rising sun. 

Lent is a time of preparation. 

While Advent is about anticipation—we seem to hurry through those little window boxes on the Advent calendar as we wait for Jesus to be born—Lent, and Ash Wednesday in particular, ask us to be more contemplative in nature.  We are to linger some. 

Because before the beauty and wonder and thrill of Easter, some pretty horrible things have to happen.

During Lent, we make small sacrifices.

We give up chocolate.

We give up Facebook.

But Lent is not about our sacrifice.  These forty days are not about “what” we give up, they are about focus.  Lent is about turning away from temptation, from the things that distract us, from anything that separates us from God. 

Lent is about turning away from sin and turning toward Jesus—lingering on Jesus, on his sacrifice.

And if you need to give up chocolate to do that … take a deep breath and do it.

Last year, I didn’t give up anything for Lent. 

Instead, I added something.

I started walking a mile every morning around sunrise, the same long loop around my neighborhood, every day.

I had been making daily walks a habit for several months before that, but this was the first time I committed to walking a full mile.

I called this Lenten journey, 40 Days, 40 Miles and every day on Facebook I posted observations and pictures not just from my morning mile, but also from the walks I would take later in the day too, from the Viera Wetlands.

I posted a lot of pictures of sunrises.

There is something special about walking first thing in the morning at sunrise.

The sky suddenly has room for the sun, moon and stars.

And there are limited distractions first thing in the morning.

Traffic on even the busiest of roads is light.

A passing jogger might nod hello, but is ultimately super focused on their own breathing, on the sound of their footfall on the sidewalk, to pay any kind of attention to me.

In my early morning walks, deer have sprinted across the road in front of me. 

Foxes have sat and stared me down from the middle of the sidewalk.

I’ve been serenaded by frogs and cicadas. 

I’ve been followed by the echo of my own footsteps.

And I have never walked alone.  For it has been in these morning walks that I have found time to spend with God, time to spend in prayer, time to sort through the static and craziness and worries of the previous day and give them over to God before they can follow me into this day.

Last year, during Lent, I didn’t give up anything—I gained time with God.

And when Lent was over, I didn’t stop my walks.

I still walk, every day, every morning, sometimes when it is super dark, sometimes when it is lighter.  I have walked in downpours and frigid temperatures.  I have walked through swarms of mosquitoes.  I have walked with pain.

But every day, I have walked with God.

Over the last year, there have been a handful of days that I haven’t been able to walk either due to hurricanes or my health, and I have mourned those lost days because I have come to treasure that time with God.

A few years ago, I wrote a book entitled, I Start Each Day with Chocolate, and subtitled Finding Reasons to Get up Every Morning.

I still eat my piece of dark chocolate, just before breakfast, but it’s not the reason I get up in the morning.

Now, I get up to spend time with God.

The last words that Jesus speaks in today’s gospel reading should sound very familiar to you.

In Matthew 6:21, Jesus says, "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Put your heart with Jesus this Lenten season.  Gain a new relationship with him.  Lent doesn't have to be about loss. 

Amen.