During the season of Lent, many people opt to take something “out” of their their daily routines. According to a Washington Post article examining the most popular Lenten sacrifices, chocolate, swearing, alcohol, and junk food rank the highest.
Also rapidly gaining ground is the phenomenon of giving up social media. Perhaps you’ve noticed, as I have, that more and more people are bidding farewell to their friends on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, as they pledge to disconnect from the relentless noise of news, politics, advertising, and general information overload.
Others prefer to take “up” a new habit—pledging to exercise every day or to purge those burgeoning closets. Does it bring you joy? No? Then out with it! They commit to a daily act of kindness, regular trips to the gym, or more quality time with friends.
For Christians, Lent is a time of waiting. It commemorates the time when Jesus went into the wilderness for forty days and nights to seek God. It is also a season of preparation for Easter—an intentional setting aside of time and mind-space to deliberately focus on faith. It is an opportunity to go deeper in our spiritual lives—a holy recalibration of sorts. As a naturally impatient person, it’s a constant challenge to subject myself to any exercises that involve sitting still and waiting. But in the instances when I have chosen to knuckle down and quiet my soul, it has always been hugely beneficial and has brought such deep peace that I wonder why in the world I don’t do it more.
As I write this, I’m in Vermont having such a pondering, Lenten moment. I’m overlooking the winding Ottaquechee River. Winter’s gradual deposits of snow and ice along the banks have coerced the water into a forceful narrow channel in the middle. Soft snow is falling. Everything is white and crisp and pure. It is a perfect moment for taking stock, stilling my anxious soul, and considering the one who made the scene before me. It’s the kind of moment that I’ll recall when I’m back in the overwhelm of daily life.
By its very nature, Lent is a season of waiting. This year, there is an added dimension for me as I await direction, clarity, and purpose in my life. I have lost some of this over the last couple of years. I long to spend more of my time creating—drawing and writing especially. In fact, I must do these things.
So, I will—along with many others around the world—commit to making this Lenten season count. I’m pledging to take time every day to ”wait”. I think part of my hang up with waiting is that I’ve wrongly perceived it as passive. In fact, it is very much an action verb. Waiting requires decisiveness, discipline, and perhaps most of all, faithfulness. When the ice and snow encroach on either side, if the river can carve out a channel and keep pushing forward, then—in God’s strength—so can I. The season of thawing and new growth is right around the corner. Meanwhile, there are things to learn while waiting.
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27:14