The Quiet Gift of Lent

By Scott Lowe

Lent is the quiet, uncelebrated season of the church calendar.

Nobody counts down to Lent like we do Christmas. No one says, “Only two weeks until Lent!” There are no decorations to hang. No parties to plan. No Lent bonuses at work.

It doesn’t sparkle. It doesn’t shout.

Instead, Lent invites us inward.

It is a season of fasting — and fasting isn’t exactly trending. Delayed gratification isn’t our cultural strength. We see it in how we handle money and debt. We see it in our on-demand habits. And if we’re honest, we see it in our spiritual lives.

One author once noted that between 1861 and 1954, he could not find a single book written on fasting. Nearly a century of silence. Even today, the shelf isn’t crowded.

Why?

Because fasting exposes what quietly controls us. And most of us would rather not look too closely.

When the Silence Gets Personal

Each year I’ve tried giving something up — television, sugar, beer, you name it. I’ll never forget the year I gave up TV.

A few days in it hit me:

“What was I thinking? March Madness?!”

I even tried negotiating with myself. “I’ll just watch this one game. I’ll make it up later.”

It’s amazing how quickly Lent can become inconvenient when it touches something we love.

But that’s precisely the point.

It’s Not About Giving Up — It’s About Taking Up

Lent is not a delayed New Year’s resolution. It’s not spiritual self-improvement season. And it’s not about choosing something impressive to give up.

It’s about what we take up.

It’s about taking up Christ.

Richard Foster once wrote, “Fasting is feasting… Fasting reminds us that we are sustained ‘by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’”

The things we eat, scroll, watch, or drink often help us numb what’s underneath — anxiety, loneliness, restlessness, the ache for more. Fasting gently surfaces those deeper hungers.

And when they surface, we are invited to bring them to Christ instead of covering them up.

This Is Not About Earning Love

Let’s be clear: fasting is not about making God love us more.

Spiritual disciplines can easily slide into legalism. And legalism crushes. It fills us with guilt when we fail and pride when we succeed.

That’s not the gospel.

In Philippians 2, we are reminded that Jesus gave up heaven itself. He humbled himself to the point of death — even death on a cross — to rescue us.

As Scott Sauls once wrote:

“More than coming to be our example, Jesus came to be our rescue. Without his rescue, his example will only crush us. But with his rescue, his example will inspire us.”

That changes everything.

We don’t fast to earn love.

We fast because we are loved.

The Quiet Joy

When we shift from proving ourselves to receiving grace, Lent becomes a gift.

It becomes an invitation to rediscover that Christ himself is our sustenance. Our rescue. Our joy.

Lent may be quiet.

But in the quiet, we often hear the voice that matters most.

May this season not be marked by grim determination, but by deeper joy.

May our fasting become feasting.

And may we “take up” the beautiful, sustaining grace God offers us.