Lent before Lent

There’s something about Lent that makes me want to forget that it’s Lent.  Or that Lent is even coming.

Every single year, I figure out that Lent is coming about a week or 10 days before it actually arrives.  Then, I manage to forget about it entirely until Maundy Tuesday, when I either decide frantically what I want to give up for Lent, or give up on Lent because it’s too late in the game and do nothing, or do something “normal” halfheartedly.

This Lent isn’t any different–I only know that Lent starts next week because they talked about it in church yesterday.

I’m a little disturbed at this trend in myself, but it also seems very human.  Lent is something that should make us uncomfortable.  It asks us to leave our status quo and move toward what makes us uncomfortable.  It asks us to voluntarily step into discomfort, or to spend our time differently than we might otherwise choose, or to exert energy where we might prefer to “just see what happens.”

The easiest way to avoid that discomfort is to forget about it completely, like I do.

And yet, Lent itches in my mind.  There’s a nagging little place that reminds me that practicing Lent has, in the past, been something good for me and something that has fed me.  I remember being bold in my first Lents, taking on more than I thought I could do and finding success in God’s strength.  In other words, I remember Lent being like it was supposed to be.

So this year, I will practice Lent.  I’m not yet sure how, but I will.

I encourage you to, as well.  In the next several posts, I want to talk about discerning a Lenten discipline, particularly as I go through my own experience trying to do just that again this year.   Feel free to join me, or to come along beside.