This is the first year that I’ve really participated in the Lent season, at least as far as I can remember. Lent is a season of fasting, repentance, and preparation for Easter. Normally, Lent sneaks up on me, and I forget about it, so I end up missing it. This year, however, I happened to be playing for an Ash Wednesday service, so I had time to prepare and think about the next forty days. It has been a journey, and I’ve learned several things, so I thought I would share in this three-part series. Today, I’m taking a look at what I learned in those first few days.

The First Few Days

As I prepared for Lent, I had to figure out what I was going to fast from. I had to evaluate what things we’re controlling my life because fasting is supposed to hurt. It wouldn’t do me any good to fast from Brussel sprouts; it’s not a sacrifice. A sacrifice should be something that’s important to you. So, among a few other things, I decided to give up coffee/caffeine. Surely, I would be fine without coffee until Easter. So, the morning of Ash Wednesday, I drank my last cup of coffee.

The first few days were rough. I had a headache for about 3 or 4 days in a row. It’s not fun to teach high school English when you have a constant headache. I tried to drink a lot of water, but it didn’t help much. I just wanted a cup. One cup. Just a little something that would make the headache go away. Anything to make it better. Slamming my head into a desk and going unconscious for a while.

I learned a little on those first days about sin and temptation and prayer. I’m not saying that coffee is sinful, but the physical reaction I had makes me think about sin. When you’re entrenched in sin, you don’t realize what it’s doing to you. It often controls you in a subtle way (especially things that are not inherently bad), and when you stop, there is often a physical, and sometimes violent, reaction. It’s a type of withdrawal, and it’s worth pushing through to fight against going back to the ways things were.

What I learned about prayer, though, was even more significant. Instead of giving in to my desire, I prayed. It wasn’t some big, gradiose prayer. It was just a simple prayer asking for help. Nothing more. I guess, for whatever reason, I’ve looked at prayer as a super special, solomn time when you kneel down and bow your head and spend an hour in prayer. This wasn’t like that. It was more like a conversation. I just asked. No profound, archaic language. Just a simple, “Help me, please.” And God did.

But here’s the funny part. The headaches didn’t go away. Not until a few days later. The desire is what went away. I found myself with the strength and resolve to continue on. I didn’t need the solution I thought I needed. I got a different one. The pain doesn’t always go away when we pray. It’s often the other internal things that do: the temptation, the desire, the weakness.

Want more? go on to Part 2.