So, What Are You Giving Up for Lent?

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honour your father and mother.” ’ He said to him, ‘Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.’ Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

—Mark 10:17—22

What a perfect text for us to consider on Ash Wednesday. So many of us are considering what to give up for Lent. Some of those renunciations are silly (a seminarian once quipped, I give up Lent for Lent!). Some are heartfelt (once an Elder renounced anything not on the diet her doctor gave her, using Lent as a sort of redo on New Year’s resolutions). In my experience, almost all of these declarations of renunciation are sincere—people really do want to observe some sort of Lenten discipline—there really is some spiritual thinking at center. 

Now consider some of the ancient foundations to the practice of giving things up for Lent. In general, the idea comes from the practice of fasting. Fasting was an accepted means of spiritual housecleaning, a way to purify mind, heart, and body. By abstaining from eating and drinking, the thought was to gain clarity. Hunger would sharpen our awareness. A more focused awareness would more certainly encounter the presence of God. 

This thinking has its scriptural roots in the great fasts found there, in particular the forty day fast of Jesus in the wilderness as he entered his Temptation—the testing that focused his own self-identification as the messiah. Therefore, the forty days of Lent is meant to parallel the same experience and focus the Lord found in his own testing. We are to identify more closely with Jesus, becoming better able to be his disciples as we share his experience.

Now—about the rich man who comes to Christ—

He is intent on finding God. His question about eternal life is a thinly veiled hope to participate in the kingdom of God. Note that—he wants to be in the presence of God; he hungers for the experience of God with him; so his seeking is pure and faithful. His intent is exactly where it needs to be.

Jesus answers his search. To be in the kingdom, behave as a denizen of that kingdom—i.e., obey the commandments of God. God has set before us the architecture for life within the kingdom. That is the intent of the Law. It is the frame for the holy life. 

Pause here to consider our own lives of faith. 

In speaking with a sweep of folks participating in the life of the church, it is clear that the man’s motivation is also our own—we hunger for being in the presence of God; we long to be sure we are in that presence; and we trust that such presence will bring us needed hope, necessary comfort, and long sought answers to the conundrums life throws at us, like, Who AM I going to vote for this year?, facing the slate of “oh my’s” before us. Our intent is also sincerely faithful.

And many of us can say we have heard the answer about obedience to the commandments, too. Many of us were drawn into faith because a church or preacher outlined the rules of the game, rules that made sense, and rules that seemingly simplified the overwhelmingly complicated nature of modern life.

But the man has still more questions—But I did that! I have tried and tried to follow rules, but I still feel empty—something is missing!

More than a few of us look at each other, nodding, Been there, done that!

Now note Jesus’ reaction—Jesus looking at him, loved him…

Jesus knows a disciple when he sees one. He recognizes a sincere heart before him. The man touches Jesus. Here is a person ready for the next level.

We know the man’s experience at this point, too. We fall into a ritual of faith. We practice religiously. We live within a framework of expectations, obligations, and duties. We try to do the right thing, say the right thing, and serve the right way. But then we wake up one Sunday morning, wondering why we bother with this church thing. Life is still life. The world is the still the world. And the slate of candidates is still the same slate we went to bed with. 

Or, succinctly, So what?

Jesus is right there with us. He understands. More than that, though, he sees an opportunity—the next level—the level where all this gets real…He sees the hunger for something more, something deeper, and something more of God. Obedience can simply become obedience—blind, we call it. There is no heart, no mind, and no spirit in it. It just is. But when we feel the nagging emptiness, the thought that there must be something else, Jesus leaps!

One thing you lack—go, sell all that you have and give it to the poor!

Jesus aims right through the heart—you follow the rules, now follow the heart behind the rules. What does God require? Love that is other-centered and self-sacrificial. That means stripping away all that keeps us from that love. That means breaking all ties to the stuff we carry that keeps us from being carriers of the love of God. That means clearing the decks of all distractions, competitors, and hurdles to being fully and completely with God. 

Sadly, the man only hears another commandment, this one ridiculous in its extremity, and impossible in its standard. 

He has missed the point.

Jesus was pointing to the intent behind the Law, the man sees only another rule in the Law. 

Do you get it? Do we hear what Jesus says?

A place to test our understanding is in this whole practice of giving stuff up for Lent. Consider a very simple question—

Does what I give up bring me closer to God?

Deeply consider this question. Maybe it can become the entirety of your Lenten discipline this year—for the next forty days, consider what it is in your life that keeps you from full awareness of the presence of God, then begin the renunciation of it, all of it, until you can see clearly. 

The man departed. Jesus wept. He turned to the baffled batch of disciples and explained—someone with so many attachments to the stuff of life cannot see the source of life. I am sure he spoke with pure, unadulterated compassion for the man. Jesus wants us to succeed. Jesus wants us with him.

So, clear the decks. Clear away everything. See the Lord. God is here, waiting for us.