Self Denial

​In a few minutes, I will invite you all, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a Holy Lent, and I’ll make suggestions about what a holy Lent might include: self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and reading and meditating on God’s holy Word. Of these good practices, tonight I want to emphasize the value of self-denial, of giving things up for Lent.
 
I know that some people don’t need to give things up. Others prefer to take things on, and that can be really helpful. But as I have aged, I have found more and more value in giving things up.
 
My own experience with Lent goes back at least to my high school days. We were not, at the time, a particularly devout family, but for some reason we always gave things up for Lent. (My father typically gave up porridge, which he never ate anyway, so that probably doesn’t count. But the rest of us really did give things up!)
 
By the time I got to college, I had dropped virtually every expression of Christian life. I didn’t worship, or pray, or read the Bible. I didn’t do much to help other people. For at least a short time, I didn’t even believe in God. Neither did any of my friends, as best I could tell. But for whatever reason, I continued giving up sweets for Lent. I continued to find value in that modest self-denial.
 
Even then, I knew that Sundays were always feast days, so I could eat whatever I wanted on Sundays. But because I ate virtually all my meals in the dining hall, I had no control over the desserts available to me on any given day. There might be a fabulous dessert during the week, and something I didn’t much like on Sunday. Eventually I decided I would move Sunday around as needed to make sure I got a tasty dessert.
 
You may think giving up sweets except when the dessert is really good isn’t much in the way of self-denial, and you would be right. But looking back, I am thankful for that vestige of Christian practice even in my most decadent years. That bit of self-denial kept me connected in some small way to the Church, to my faith, to God.
 
After graduation, I slowly came back to Church. As I became more serious about my faith and eventually began to consider ordination, my Lenten practice evolved. I got more focused on adding things to my life rather than giving things up.
 
My own additions were pretty conventional. I added things like a short daily meditation or saying Compline each evening. Those two stuck and became a regular part of my prayer life all year round. Others didn’t work as well for me, but that was OK. Trying different things and holding on to the ones that worked was a great blessing.
 
I know people who were more creative in their Lenten practices. One friend committed to doing something brave each day. Another committed to writing letters to absent friends each day. Both sound like great additions.
 
My point is, I have always understood when people tell me they prefer taking things on to giving things up.
 
But for the last several years, I am back to focusing on self-denial as my own primary Lenten practice. We live in a culture of such excess that an annual time of cutting back feels increasingly important to me.
 
But where we should cut back varies from person to person, depending on where we experience excess.
 
I approach the question of what counts as excess in three ways. The easiest way is to think about our health. What habits make us less healthy?
 
And the easiest example is food. From Thanksgiving through the New Year, like a lot of people, I always eat and drink more than is good for me. Most years I gain several pounds, and I don’t feel great physically. Usually, and this year was no exception, by February I find myself wanting to cut back, but unable to muster the willpower to do it.
 
And then comes Lent to give me the help I need. I give up sweets and snacks and alcohol. I lose my winter weight, and I feel better physically, mentally, and spiritually. In Easter, I’ll resume my food vices, but, at least for a while, more moderately. And then the cycle repeats, meaning I’ll need Lent again next year.
 
But physical health is not the only area where we should be concerned about excess. Another big one is how we spend our time.
 
One friend of mine felt like he spent too much time and money shopping on Amazon, so he gave that up for Lent. I used to watch more television, to the point that it became a problem for me, so I gave up television for a few Lents.
 
In recent years, games have become a time suck for me. Sudoku always. This year one of my sons introduced me to a Sudoku-like game on my phone called Nonograms, which may be even more addictive than Sudoku.
 
There is nothing intrinsically wrong with Sudoku or Nonograms. The problem is how much time I spend on them. Sometimes I play late into the night. Sometimes I play when I should be spending time with Carrie. That means I am indulging in excess gaming, and it is time for an intervention. So, I’ll give them up for Lent, too.
 
But the most subtle way in which we indulge to excess isn’t a behavior at all, at least not exactly. It’s in our reason for doing whatever we do.
 
At a difficult time in my life, a therapist told me I was self-medicating with alcohol. I protested that I wasn’t drinking that much. But she challenged me. She pointed out that I was drinking when I felt anxious, that I was using alcohol as a coping strategy, and that drinking was distracting me from dealing with the issues I needed to address.
 
By the time I got home, I realized she was right. I wasn’t drinking enough to compromise my health in a serious way, and I wasn’t spending more time or money on alcohol than I could afford. But because I was using alcohol to ignore my problems, my alcohol use was excessive, and I had to give it up, at least until I got my issues straightened out.
 
I experienced the same thing again this year, but not with alcohol. After my concussion, I couldn’t read for a few weeks, and I was surprised at how much extra time I had. I read for pleasure, but my reading had become obsessive. Taking a break for a few weeks was good for me.
 
Excess in our lives, whatever form it takes, gradually gains control over us. You can see that in my inability to stop eating sweets even when I don’t feel good. Or to stop playing a game on my phone even when I need to go to bed. Or when I need a drink to manage my anxiety or read to kill some time.
 
Lent is an opportunity for us to cut back on whatever is excessive in our lives, as an offering to God, who wants us to thrive, and with God’s help, without which we can do nothing.
 
And so, as Lent begins, I encourage you to spend time in self-examination. Ponder areas of excess in your own life. Resolve to regain control where you have lost it. And ask God to help you.
 
And now, please stand for the invitation to the observance of a holy Lent…..