Performative spiritual discipline kills the joy of Easter

President’s Day is Monday, February 16.

Fat Tuesday is Tuesday, February 17.

Both days may not mean much to many; however, Wednesday, February 18, marks the beginning of a 40-day season on the Christian calendar that leads to Easter

As a Black Baptist growing up in the South, I did not observe Lent as did many of my Roman Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran, and Methodist friends and colleagues. However, for centuries, the Church has set aside these weeks for prayer, fasting, reflection, repentance, and renewed commitment to the way of Jesus.

Historically, Lent prepares believers to remember the suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ. As Advent calls us to remember and reflect on the coming of a promised child in hopes of a better world, Lent forces us to center Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness, where he faced hunger, pressure, and temptation before beginning his public ministry. Lent reminds us that doing the work of Jesus leads to suffering. Therefore, Lent is preparation, examination and alignment.

Frankly, too often we’ve reduced Lent to giving up something small and manageable like coffee, sweets, and social media without asking deeper introspective questions about who we are becoming. That version of Lent asks little and changes even less because once the 40 days are over, we pick up what we put down.

Jesus did not enter a quiet retreat center. He stepped into a wilderness shaped by empire. Rome controlled land, taxes, movement, and daily life. Temptation was not abstract; it was about power, bread, survival, allegiance. To follow Jesus toward the cross means we must examine the systems we live within and the compromises we have normalized.

Lent invites us to practice intention instead of a momentary refrain. Fasting becomes more than skipping a meal; it is refusing what numbs our moral clarity. Prayer becomes more than routine words; it is grounding ourselves in God’s justice and mercy. Repentance becomes more than guilt; it is turning away from habits that shrink us and turning toward life that honors our full humanity.

As one who did not grow up observing Lent, I now cannot imagine the magnitude of Resurrection Sunday without journeying with Jesus through the wilderness, recognizing the politics surrounding his murder and reflecting on how much of Jesus’ world mirrors my own world. I wholeheartedly maintain that any inkling of Easter joy that skips over suffering is fragile. The cross exposes the truth about power, about fear, and about what it costs to resist injustice.

This season is an invitation to slow down long enough to ask: What needs to die in me? What needs to rise, and what will it cost to live honestly?

If we enter Lent with intention, it can become sacred space to reclaim courage, recover clarity, and choose again to walk in freedom.

If you are ready to approach Lent with depth and intention, I invite you to journey with me through my Lenten Study Guide, Courage in a World That Resists Change. This six-week study explores how Roman occupation shaped daily life, how Jesus confronted systems that harmed the vulnerable, and what it means for his 21st Century followers to live with courage in spaces that resist change.

This guide is thoughtful, grounded, and honest. Each week includes historical context, theological reflection, and questions that press beyond comfort into clarity. If you are serious about using this Lenten season to grow, to confront power, and to reclaim your voice, this study will walk with you.

Do not let these forty days pass without intention. Purchase your copy today and commit to a Lent that forms you, not just informs you.