I didn’t grow up in a “Lent-practicing” church. I’m pretty sure I never once heard the word “Lent” spoken from the pulpit of my home church, the centerpiece of our small town. In fact, the only experience I had of the Lenten season was Friday night fish dinners at my grandmother’s house with all my cousins. It was a celebration for sure, but I didn’t understand until years later why we always ate fish instead of the other delicious meals my grandmother was famous for.
In recent years, I’ve done some learning about Lent and I always try to pick something to give up as I look toward the holiest of days of the Christian calendar. I want to deny something I love and crave in order to focus more on Jesus.
This year I’m giving up sugar. Seems pretty standard, right? Sugar and social media seem to be the going thing these days. It’s not the first time I’ve done a sugar fast. It’s not even the first time I’ve given up sugar for Lent. But this year already seems more difficult than years past.
Part of the problem is that we are coming out of a hard season. Just as I finally feel my head surfacing out of the water, free of this pandemic, a war breaks out around the globe, pushing my head underwater yet again as I gasp for breath. Thoughts of the little Ukrainian boy we were supposed to adopt years ago fill my head. Worries about his life. His safety.
If my country were being overrun by a powerful dictator, if I were in their shoes, would I stand up and fight? Would I gather underground in the subway and worship God? I hope so.
I also hope I’m never in that situation.
Closer to home, and not nearly as urgent, work has been overly stressful. Loss of sleep as I worry about my students plagues me and I’m oh so tired every day. Mornings bring time in the Word (I’m currently reading Ezekiel with the SheReadsTruth community – not an easy read) and prayer. And as I look at my prayer journal, I see illness and friends who are in hard situations and my own worries about people I love.
Some days it feels like too much.
Some days, all I can manage to breathe out is “Jesus.”
We were never promised an easy life. John 16:33 tells us that in this world, we will have trouble. But we know the Overcomer, the One who will be with us when things feel hard or overwhelming.
I know I can lean on Jesus when I feel I can’t breathe. When I mourn with those who’ve lost loved ones. When exhaustion threatens to overtake me.
Jesus.
My Savior.
This year as we walk toward Easter, let’s not forget the sacrifice of the God-Man who gave His life for each of us.