Jesus Doesn't Need You This Lent. Really.

Can I confess something? Every year, Lent stresses me out. Ash Wednesday, the traditional start to the season, approaches, and I think how am I going to commemorate Lent this year? Traditionally, Christians choose some sort of fast for the 40 days before Easter, and participating in that tradition genuinely blesses me.

But the decision-making about what to give up is an invitation for major performance anxiety. Is what I give up enough? Does it count? Will other people think it’s lazy or weird? Should I add something else–or will that make me resentful and grouchy? Shouldn’t I just suck it up and choose because JESUS DIED FOR ME AND I CAN DO WITHOUT CHOCOLATE FOR TWO MONTHS?

Usually, Ash Wednesday rolls around with me still arguing with myself. Then I go to the service and all the performance do-gooderism rolls off my shoulders and I remember that I AM NOT THE ONE WHO SAVES THE WORLD THIS EASTER. Jesus is. So my best efforts are kinda beside the point.

Here’s the delicious irony of my anxiety about Lent: I have literally written a book about how to celebrate it. It’s called Word Made Art: Lent. Every week for eight weeks, the book gives you an art prompt for a project, and a verse to meditate on. You flip to that verse in an old copy of the Bible, read the passage, and then right there, on the actual pages of scripture, you make an art project with crayon, scissors and a little derring-do. Discussion and personal reflection questions help you go deeper with scripture, God, others, and your own heart. You can even join the Facebook group I moderate to share those projects with others.

Every time Lent rolls around and I share this book with the world, I’m excited, proud, and nervous. Lent, despite my anxiety, is one of my favorite Christian observances. But even though I’m excited about Lent and my book, I don’t want some of you to touch either with a ten-foot pole.

Why?

I don’t want to give ANYONE any anxiety Lent. I don’t want you to think, I really should observe Lent this year.

Or, A better Christian would be excited to go through this devotional.

Or: What’s wrong with me that I don’t want to do this or anything else for Lent?

There’s nothing wrong with you. So don’t buy my book because you feel like you should.

Rest instead.

Let yourself off the hook about doing ___________ to be a “good Christian”, no matter how you fill in that blank.

You are a beloved, cherished child of God whether you do anything to observe Lent.

Learning to intentionally abstain from spiritual disciplines, practices and tools has grown my faith JUST AS MUCH as studying, reading, or working hard.

Because in the end, it’s not our religious observances that save us.

Not our Bible reading. Our devotional-doing. Our quiet times. Our church attendance. Our enthusiasm. Our hands raised in worship. Our service. Our speaking in tongues. Our brilliant (or ordinary) prayers.

It is God that saves us. It is God who calls us good, redeemed, acceptable.

Nothing. Else.

I am excited for people to buy my book because it is kind of a crazy thing to make stuff that people will use with joy (it feels kind of weird, guys. Like inviting people to a party and also being a door-to-door salesman that really adores her vacuums.)

But I have avoided so many good Christian books. I have felt dread about so many worthwhile resources. I have shied away from SO many spiritual practices because I simply did not have the bandwidth, the time, or the heart-energy.

Learning that was okay healed me.

If you’re like me, I bless you. I release you from any Lenten observance. If you’re already sitting in ashes, you might not need an extra cinder smudge on your forehead this Ash Wednesday.

It’s okay. It’s okay to stay away if you’re not yearning for a way to mark the time. Listen to that weary voice inside you. Honor it.

But if a different voice is speaking up, a voice that says, Lent sounds oddly attractive, then listen. Not because you should. Not because a Good Christian would. No: because the child in you is tugging at your sleeve and pointing down the street to a garden. She sees that a snowdrop has just poked its head above the ice. She wants to see what might be blooming in the cold.

Go because of the gentle tug on your sleeve, not because you must. Go because you can be a child again if you allow yourself to be eager for ordinary miracles.

Choose some kind of simple observance. Choose to let go of a habit for forty days. To pray the hours. To practice the daily examen. To sit in stillness for five minutes while praying the Jesus prayer on your breath. Do your observance once, or every day, or every hour. Do what your heart is longing to do, even if you can’t quite figure out why.

Or you can buy my Lenten devotional, Word Made Art: Lent on Amazon in paperback or for Kindle.

I can honestly say I have never come across a devotional like it—rather than studying the Bible, you make an old Bible into an art project. Messy, joyful, kindergarten-style, paste-and-crayon art. I’m really excited to share it with you.

I’m also offering a Facebook group for those interested in experiencing the devotional in community. We’ll share projects each week, discuss the reflection questions, and travel towards Easter together. Membership includes a PDF copy of the book. You can purchase the bundle in my shop.

Lent is a slow processional dance. There is beauty in dancing to a mournful song, even if it doesn’t feel happy. If you want to intentionally pay attention to this season before Easter, wonderful. Honor that yearning.

And if you don’t, it’s not because you’re less holy or faithful. It’s probably because you’re soul-sore. I promise that God honors you admitting that simple, heart-breaking truth out loud.