I did not put my sense of humor away for Lent. Honestly, I’m not sure I could if I tried. My sense of humor has a mind of its own and occasionally needs to be told, “Hush now, we’re in church.” I once preached a funeral with the “Exit” sign burned out over the doors we’d be leaving through. My brain, unhelpfully, started processing the symbolism — we all exit eventually — and before I knew it, my mouth was dangerously close to sharing that observation with the grieving family. That’s when I realized: for Lent, I may fast from many things, but my sense of humor is apparently not one of them.
And speaking of Lent, that little moment of funeral foolishness reminded me how this season always brings out our quirks, our questions, and our well intentioned attempts at spiritual discipline. Many congregations observe Lenten practices, and you can usually spot us by the annual question: “So… what are you giving up for Lent?” Some of my Roman Catholic friends give up meat on Fridays, which has sparked many a conversation — and, fun fact, is the reason McDonald’s invented the fish sandwich. Stick with these Ponderings long enough and you’ll be ready for Jeopardy!
Which brings me to one of my favorite Lenten stories.
John Smith was the only Protestant to move into a large Catholic neighborhood. On the first Friday of Lent, John was outside grilling a big, juicy steak. Meanwhile, all his neighbors were dutifully eating cold tuna fish. This went on every Friday. Finally, the Catholic men decided something had to be done — John was tempting them beyond what any human should endure.
So they set out to convert him.
They talked with him, brought him to church, and the priest sprinkled water over him saying, “You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, and now you are a Catholic.” The men rejoiced. Their Lenten temptations were over.
Until the next year.
The first Friday of Lent rolled around, and just as the neighborhood sat down to their tuna, the unmistakable aroma of steak drifted through the air. They rushed to John’s yard, ready to remind him of his new commitments.
And there he stood, sprinkling water over his steak, saying, “You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, and now you are a fish.”
It’s funny — and it’s also a gentle reminder. It’s not what our neighbors call us that defines us. It’s not even what we call ourselves. Our actions, our habits, our quiet choices — those speak louder than our reputations or our labels.
Lent invites us into that quieter truth. Not the showy kind, not the “look what I’m giving up” kind, but the kind that shapes us from the inside out.
This Lent is Jesus shaping your heart and your journey to Easter?
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