For me, Lent has often been difficult, the most dull and boring season of the Christian year. As much as I look forward to Easter, I do not look forward to the long arduous process of Lent, with its focus on self- denial, and discipline, and self-examination. It is like the travail of being confined to a solitary prison cell, groaning through interminable confinement, and yearning for release that seems so long away.
I suppose that the austerity and deprivation of Lenten discipline can heighten the anticipation of release and freedom, just as imprisonment can make freedom seem so much more attractive.
For me, Lent has often been difficult, the most dull and boring season of the Christian year. As much as I look forward to Easter, I do not look forward to the long arduous process of Lent, with its focus on self- denial, and discipline, and self-examination. It is like the travail of being confined to a solitary prison cell, groaning through interminable confinement, and yearning for release that seems so long away.
I suppose that the austerity and deprivation of Lenten discipline can heighten the anticipation of release and freedom, just as imprisonment can make freedom seem so much more attractive.
During most of my life, I have given only passing thought to the spiritual meaning of Lent. As a young person, while I probably heard about Lent, it wasn’t something that was observed in my family. Holy Week, yes – but Lent, just did not seem to be that relevant. While Lent is still not commonly observed in many Protestant and Evangelical traditions, the practice of Lent is actually one of the oldest traditions observed among Christian believers and dates back to the second century. The word lent reflects the season of the year preceding Easter in the northern hemisphere and is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words lencten, meaning “Spring,” and lenctentid meaning “Springtide.” Spring is the season of awakening, of new life emerging slowly from the dull grey landscape and leaden skies of winter. Spring is filled with signs of the coming summer.
Following the “legalization” of Christianity by the Roman Empire in 313 AD, the practice of Lent became more uniformly established by the Council of Nicea (325 AD) as the 40-days immediately preceding Easter. Although Lent had been observed prior to this time the number 40 took on a special spiritual significance in preparation for Easter. It was on Mount Sinai that Moses stayed with the Lord for 40-days and 40-nights without eating and drinking while he waited patiently to receive the Ten Commandments from God’s own hand. And of course the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt was a seemingly endless wilderness journey of 40 years before they were finally able to set foot in the land promised to their ancestors. Elijah, the prophet, feeling frustrated and weary and alienated from God walked painfully for 40-days and 40-nights to reach Mount Horeb, where he experienced God in a new way. Just before beginning His public ministry, Jesus was led by the Spirit from the Jordan into the desert where He fasted and prayed for 40-days and 40 nights as the devil tried to dissuade and seduce Him from His mission.
While there is nothing inherently spiritual in the number, 40-days or 40-years is a very long time to wait or to prepare for anything. By nature, I am a rather impatient person who would rather do something than prepare to do something, even though sometimes in the doing of it I discover that I should have taken more time for preparation. Waiting for anything, whether it is a traffic light or my wife or the completion of a project by my colleagues is a painful exercise in patience. I find myself groaning under the burden of waiting for something to happen, for something to be accomplished.
Recently I endured a knee surgery that prevented me from being out and about as I normally am. The time of immobility during my recovery was far more painful for me than the surgery. I chafed at not being able to get around, at being housebound, but there was nothing I could do except wait in anticipation of the day that I would be able to walk normally again. There was a lesson for me to learn.
In prison I have seen two kinds of waiting. There are those for whom waiting for the day of freedom is an empty time of soul-sapping, life-dulling, useless drudgery; and there are those for whom waiting turns into a time of meaningful soul-searching, life- altering, meaningful preparation, in anticipation of the day they will be free.
To approach Easter through the 40-days of Lenten discipline involves a kind of intentional waiting – not an empty waiting, but a purposeful preparation pregnant with the anticipation of Resurrection.
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
more than watchmen wait for the morning. (Psalm 130:1-6)
Ron W. Nikkel is the president and CEO of Prison Fellowship International (PFI). For more information, visit the PFI web site.