Loss and Longing During Lent
The Lent season is upon us. Starting Ash Wednesday, for 46 days, Christians around the world will await Easter, Resurrection Sunday, the day we celebrate the triumphant return from death of our Savior, Jesus the Messiah. You’ll probably see some people from more traditional-style churches walking around with a mark made from ashes on their foreheads, signifying the start of this period in the church calendar.
Lent is a time for fasting and prayer, but I didn’t grow up practicing it. I know a lot of people who currently don’t fast during Lent. That’s okay. This is not a thing to be legalistic about. Lenten fasting is a choice between each believer and God, a discipline that can lead to great spiritual blessing. Fasting itself is an ancient practice, though it’s also one that has largely diminished in the Western Church.
The last several years, I have chosen to fast during Lent: I’ve given up TV, social media, specific meals, sweets, or other things. For a long time, though, I didn’t truly understand the point of fasting.
Fasting has a purpose besides depriving yourself of something for six days at a time (Sunday is typically a “break” day from Lenten fasting). It’s meant to help the believer draw closer to God through their longing for the thing they’ve given up. It’s like tithing. When Christians tithe, they’re choosing to surrender a portion of their income in order that the work of the Kingdom may be advanced. It’s also a form of worship and a way to say, “This thing doesn’t own or control me, and I desire to be obedient to God.”
So when Christians fast, they are surrendering a thing they need or deeply desire in order that something more significant can be added to their life: namely, increased time in prayer and meditation in the presence of God, or even increased charitable service. It also tests them in trusting God to provide for their needs, since they’re going without something that is ostensibly essential to their lifestyle.
In Biblical tradition, the thing given up is a form of food, a whole meal, a day’s worth of meals, or even—if you’re married—physical intimacy with your spouse. But modern versions of fasting often include going without things like entertainment, certain types of financial transactions, or the use of favorite technologies. There’s some debate about whether these modern versions are “true” fasting, but I say, leave that decision in the hands of God. After all, some people care more about their social media or bank accounts than the food they eat.
Loss and longing define fasting, especially leading up to an event that starts with mourning Jesus’ suffering and death and culminates in celebrating His resurrection. In the words of the lead pastor of my church, “The experience of resurrection hope and joy is much more meaningful when you’ve first experienced suffering and death.”
We wish for the material thing that satisfies us, and that loss and longing becomes a spiritual forefinger pointing us to our Creator and Sustainer. We also pray specifically in the midst of our loss and longing: fasting is typically a time of repentance, lament, intensive Scripture reading, and soul-searching leading into heartfelt supplication, intercession, praise, and revival. There’s something about choosing to experience discomfort by physically going without that can trigger a deeper passion and hunger for the things of God.
I invite you to join me and the Body of Christ around the world this Lent season as we fast in preparation for the celebration of our Risen Savior.
P.S. Here are just a few useful scriptures for you to look up and study regarding the tradition of fasting in Judeo-Christian faith:
Joel 2:12
Daniel 1:10-16
Daniel 10:2-3
Matthew 4:1-11
Matthew 6:16-18
Acts 13:2