The Search for Freedom in Lent

Every year, right before Lent, I start hearing it.

“What are you giving up?”
“Sugar?”
“Social media?”
“Wine?”

There’s this low hum in the air. A kind of Catholic buzz. And then Ash Wednesday comes — and the churches are packed. Packed. Even though it’s not a Holy Day of Obligation. In some places, there are more people there than on actual Holy Days.

We line up. We kneel. We hear the words:

You are dust.

It strikes me every time. The Church doesn’t begin Lent with a strategy. She begins with remembrance.

You are dust.
You are loved.
You are redeemed.

That’s where we start.

Not with goals.
Not with productivity.
Not with spiritual self-optimization.
With truth.

Lent Isn’t About Proving Something

Somewhere along the way, it’s easy to turn Lent into a quiet performance. Even if no one else sees it, we do.

If I give up enough…
If I stick to it perfectly…
If I’m disciplined enough…

But Lent isn’t about proving something to God.

It’s about returning to Him.

We fast not because our bodies are bad — but because they are good and meant for something greater.
We pray not because God is far away — but because He wants communion.
We give because love doesn’t stay contained.

Lent is relational.
It’s about the heart.

It Looks Like Less — But It’s Actually More

On the surface, Lent feels like narrowing.

Less food.
Less noise.
Less scrolling.
Less indulgence.

More discipline.
More sacrifice.

But the Church is not trying to shrink our lives.
She is trying to free them.

“For freedom Christ has set us free.” That line has been sitting with me.

Freedom from what?

From whatever quietly owns me.

And if I’m honest, it’s not just chocolate.

It’s control.
It’s comfort.
It’s wanting to be right.
It’s needing to be needed.
It’s reaching for distraction the second I feel discomfort.
It’s self-reliance dressed up as strength.

Even good things — food, productivity, serving others — can become attachments.

Lent exposes what owns us.

Not to embarrass us.
To free us.

What Fasting Actually Shows Me

When I fast, I start noticing things.

How fast I reach for comfort.
How restless I am in silence.
How much I depend on stimulation.
How irritated I become when I can’t have what I want immediately.

It’s not pretty.

But it’s revealing.

And that revelation? That’s not failure.
That’s grace.

Because once you see the attachment, you can surrender it.

This Lent, I Want Freedom

As women, we already carry so much. Responsibilities. Expectations. The invisible emotional weight of being the steady one.

It’s easy to make Lent another arena to succeed in. Another place to measure ourselves.

But the Church doesn’t begin Lent with “Do better.”

She begins with:

Remember who you are.

You are dust.
You are loved.
You are redeemed.

Lent is not restriction for the sake of restriction.
It is making space.

Space for God.
Space for silence.
Space to choose love over impulse.
Space to loosen the grip of the things that quietly control us.

So this Lent, I don’t want to shrink.

I want to be free.

Not impressive.
Not rigid.
Free.

And that kind of freedom always begins with remembering.