Lent: Glitter or Gold

Every Sunday night before evening worship, I meet in my study with the middle schoolers of our church. Normally, we gather to discuss the morning sermon. That goal is not always achieved. As I have gotten to know them, they have also gotten to know me. And sometimes they use that to their advantage to derail our normal routine. They have figured out that the quickest way to spark a tangential conversation is to ask theological questions.

I have never told them — and maybe I do not need to — but these are some of my favorite moments as a pastor. In one manipulatively planned digression, these middle schoolers asked me about the practice of Lent.

Over a century ago, William Ingraham Kip wrote, “For some years past each return of Lent has been, we believe, regarded with additional interest.” That observation remains true today, as many traditions practice Lent. As Ash Wednesday — which is tomorrow — begins another Lenten season, many of us will encounter it. In the spirit of the Apostle Paul, who said, “Test everything” (1 Thess. 5:21), we should pause and think biblically about the Lenten season. Is it good, bad, or neutral?

Lent is regarded by many as one of the oldest and most important practices on the church calendar. Traces of its observance can be found in the writings of Irenaeus (d. 202), Tertullian (d. 240), and the Council of Nicaea (325). Through the centuries, different rules, ceremonies, rites, and liturgies have developed, leaving Lent without a unified expression, either individually or corporately. Nevertheless, for many, the Lenten season is a time of preparation for Easter and an opportunity to grow closer to God through fasting, self-denial, and repentance.

With such an ambitious purpose, some might wonder whether there is any room to question its usefulness. How could any of that be bad? Paul reminds us that not all that glitters is gold. There are “spiritual practices” that can actually be harmful. He told Timothy that it is possible to have the appearance of godliness while denying its power (2 Tim. 3:5). He also cautioned against submitting to regulations like “Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch,” which have an appearance of wisdom but “are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh” (Col. 2:23). We need to be careful. Just because someone intends to promote a good and godly end does not mean it will accomplish that end. So does Lent have the appearance without the power — the glitter without the gold?

First, we should remember that there is no biblical requirement to observe a Lenten season. No one is obligated to do it. Unlike the many religious days we have created, God has permanently set the rhythm of our lives according to his own calendar: “Six days shall you labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God” (Ex. 20:9–10). That has been the pattern since creation, and it will continue until Jesus — who is Lord of the Sabbath — returns (see Gen. 2:3; Heb. 4:9).

Under the Old Testament, many ceremonial days were added to the Jewish calendar. But these days were not intended to have a permanent place, nor were they intended to give new covenant believers justification for inventing their own ceremonial observances. According to the finished work of Jesus, these are days from which we have been set free (Col. 2:16–17). The only “holy day” the New Testament explicitly names is the Lord’s Day (Rev. 1:10). God himself has attached no significance to the forty days of Lent. Whatever meaning people may feel about the season is meaning we have assigned to it. That means whatever Lent promises, it cannot offer something unique or distinct from what God has already provided in his weekly appointed day.

Second, during Lent many people commit to giving up certain luxuries as a way to promote piety. In some traditions, such as Roman Catholicism, this functions as a form of penance. In Catholic teaching, penance is one of the seven sacraments, through which a baptized person makes satisfaction for sin. According to this teaching, even after confession, one must still “do something more to make amends for sin” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1459). This may include prayer, offerings, works of mercy, or voluntary self-denial. Through such satisfaction, grace and justice are restored, and forgiveness is obtained through the Church. It is not difficult to see the historical connection between Lent and the sacrament of penance.

While Lent is not exclusively Catholic, the instinct to make satisfaction for sin is not confined to Catholicism either. Evangelicals who observe Lent likely do not do so in a sacramental framework, but it is easy to adopt the same spirit — to imagine that abstaining from certain pleasures somehow compensates for sin. That mindset robs Jesus of the glory of his perfect satisfaction. He lived the life the law commands and died the death the law demands. We cannot add to the perfect work of Christ.

To be blunt, that is a cheap repentance and a form of confidence in the flesh. It echoes the attitude of the Pharisees, whom Jesus rebuked: “There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him” (Mk. 7:15). Sin is a problem of the heart. That is why we need the resources the Holy Spirit provides. “Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” (Gal. 3:3). Self-imposed rules will not bring us closer to God or further from sin: “Food will not commend us to God. We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do eat” (1 Cor. 8:8).

Third, while fasting is a biblical discipline, both individually and corporately (see Matt. 6:16; Joel 2:12), Scripture gives stern warnings about false fasting — fasting that masquerades as godliness. The prophet Isaiah declared, “Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure… Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high” (Is. 58:3–4). Likewise, Jesus warned, “When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by others” (Matt. 6:16).

Biblical fasting is meant to cultivate humility, repentance, mercy, and prayer. Without those corresponding realities, fasting becomes aimless, if not hypocritical. The fashionable and culturally savvy Lenten season promoted around us often works against the true spirit of fasting. It can create an environment in which hypocrisy thrives. John Calvin rightly observed, “It would have been much better to have had no fasting at all than to have it carefully observed, but at the same time corrupted by false and pernicious opinions.”

I know that Lent means a great deal to many — Evangelicals, Anglicans, Lutherans, Methodists, and Catholics alike. It is a significant part of their traditions. But when I consider the Bible’s teaching on the sufficiency of Christ, Christian liberty, repentance, and fasting, I am not convinced that the Lenten season actually promotes those realities. It has a great deal of glitter, but no gold.

Even if you disagree — and you are free to do so for biblical reasons — I hope you will take this encouragement: put no confidence in the flesh, in what you do or do not eat, but only in Christ. Rend your heart and not your garments. Add to your profession of faith every grace of the Spirit. Walk the path of daily self-denial, which is true identification with Christ and the pursuit of his glory.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17).

*This post originally published in March 2017, edited in 2021 and 2026