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Growing up, Lent meant two things to me. The first being soup suppers instead of Confirmation at church, and the second being that I was to give something up for the whole forty days.

That was it, Lent wasn’t anything more to me than a change in schedule and the physical act of giving something up, usually desert which was almost impossible given the soup suppers.

Everything changed in my understanding of Lent on my first Ash Wednesday as a pastor. It was a frigid morning in 2020 as I stood on the Northern Illinois University campus giving out snack bags and ashes to anyone who walked by. Partnering up with a colleague and watching students who were nervous but curious to accept the ashes warmed every part of me. It was also the first year where instead of saying the traditional words, remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return we used words from Mumford and Son’s Awake My Soul.

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die, and where you invest your love, you invest your life.

 These words invited me to think about Lent as something more than simply giving something up – because that is what we have always done – but rather an invitation to look at the places and the people we are investing in that is hindering us from living the life that we have been called to.

That shift for me meant that giving up something just to indulge in it again after the moment we proclaimed the resurrection wasn’t doing anything to grow in my faith. Rather, when I started shifting my focus, when I started to invest in things that filled my spirit, I started to understand what Lent is meant to be.

Lent, a forty-day journey to the cross, is an invitation to pause, to ponder, and to turn to God’s abundance. Lent is an invitation to trust in the promise of the resurrection and the hope of the new kin-dom where love reigns.

On Ash Wednesday, we accept the invitation to be transformed as we journey to the cross, as we face our own mortality, and as we live into our humanity.

This Ash Wednesday feels different. In the past several weeks, my own humanity has been attacked as executive orders and laws across the country have been enacted that strip from me basic human rights. I know I am not alone in feeling the despair in our world; I know I am not alone in feeling scared for what is coming next. The attacks on our neighbors, including our transgender, our immigrant, and our disabled neighbors, are ruthless and painful. These attacks are pushing us further away from the kin-dom that was promised to us on the cross.

When we are pushed further from what we are called to turn to, it can seem hopeless. The despair sets in, and we just bury our head in the sand and ignore what is happening. It is easy to get to that point and even easier to stay in that place.

Today marks the start of our journey, the start of digging deep and figuring out where we can invest our love so that we can invest our life. The despair is palpable, but the love of God – the love of Christ – is what calls us to action.

Instead of giving up something to simply give up, I invite you to invest in something that gives you hope and fills your spirit. Maybe that investment comes from giving up something that drains you. Maybe that investment comes from engaging in a non-profit working to love our neighbors. Maybe that investment comes from grounding yourself in prayer.

Wherever you find your hope, invest your love. Wherever you find love, invest your life.

Ever-creating God, out of endless love and grace, you brought us forth from the dust of the earth, creating us to invest our love in you and our neighbor. Call us to places that fill our spirit and show your loving kindness to our neighbor. Send us forth in prayer and service as we face our own morality with confidence in the promise and hope of the resurrection. We pray this in the name of your begotten one, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.