Lent, Christ, Worldly Consolations

I am sorely tempted to tell you the truth and say that I don't relish the idea of Lent.

Oh. Look what I just did.

As I mentioned in my last post, self-denial and self-discipline are not my strong points. I am so weak, in fact, in these matters, that I might as well go ahead and admit that even the idea of giving up some luxury or addiction leaves me hostile. There's something in me that shrinks from the idea itself - a voice that says, "Yes, I'm weak. I know I'm weak. God knows I'm weak. Can't we leave it at that?"

Fortunately (unfortunately), there are those out there who approach the concept of Lenten fasting with enthusiasm and willingness to do what God asks of them in this period. I just read a quick blog post from Frank Weathers, in which he presents what he deems "a modest proposal": he suggests that, rather than give up whatever it is you're giving up for forty days, to do it for forty years. Or possibly for the rest of your life. Whatever comes first. I shuddered. I quaked. I snorted in discomfort. I will not read Frank Weathers again. Fanatic, man. (Just kidding, Frank!)

Meant to be ironic. Kind of.

Naw. I'll stick to my forty days, and I'll pull through, perhaps, by the skin of my teeth, but I'll pull through. I've given up sugar - to what extreme I have yet to decide, and likely will only decide as I go along. I am a coffee addict - I do mean addict - laden with milk and sugar, easily six or seven times a day. It's almost indecent. I'll no longer put sugar in my coffee. And this - even this small small action, is difficult. It's not the not scooping sugar into my cup of liquid joy - it's the idea of it. I know it's small, I grapple with the fact that it's small, so small that I think, "Why bother? I can't be bothered," but I will do it. There's something so humbling about taking even the tiniest of actions to prove your allegiance to God, knowing full well that He gave literally everything for you, willingly. The sacrifice He made was His idea. As such, I am humiliated by my own hesitations. That may be the point. But it's unpleasant.

I got to thinking about worldly consolations in relation to Christ, while my stomach was growling on this obligatory day of fasting. Christ's human nature is a mystery to us all, of course, but I was trying to apply my limited knowledge of life 2,000 years ago and picture what consolations Christ may have employed - if He did. (I'm entering foreign territory here, so bear with me.) Our consolations - coffee or what-have-you - are not bad, in and of themselves - they are only bad if they separate us from God. What would Christ's worldly consolations have been? He was man - ate and drank and woke up in the morning just like we do. We know that He fasted. We know that He was capable of hunger, just as we are. (Luke 4:2.) During Christ's forty days in the desert, in the midst of His fasting - His hunger, He was tempted, and sorely. Christ took on that temptation, and defeated it, as later He would take all sin upon Himself, and defeat it. There's comfort in that. He did what we can't. That's the point of focus in our humiliation during Lent. Now if I could just get myself to remember that...

Well. Happy Lent, all! Good luck in your own endeavors.