A Prayer for Lent

Lord, I want to give up.

That’s not something I was taught to do.

That’s not something I was trained to do.

That’s not something my ego revels in.

That’s not something that makes me feel good.

But Lord, that’s where I am.

I am giving up.

I am giving up on trying.

I am giving up on goodness.

I am giving up on mercy.

I am giving up on kindness.

I am giving up on the world, because the world has given up on us.

We cannot fix everything that needs fixing.

We cannot do everything that needs to be done.

We cannot help those who most need it.

We cannot speak and find someone to listen.

We cannot even sleep without anxious interruption.

The most basic parts of life have been sent tumbling down cliffs of greed, power, and broken promises. 

The most basic needs of our community have been cut, canceled, rejected, and eliminated. 

The might of man has eclipsed the cries of the weary. 

By the end of each day, my head is pounding and I can’t catch my breath.

The words of the Psalms snap like a snare on my heart:

Answer me when I call to you oh my righteous God! Give me relief from my distress and be merciful to me!

But it feels like nothing.

The words sound like nothing.

My prayers feel like nothing.

My heart is hard and empty.

Lord, here is where I am:

I am giving up.

But as my calendar flips with the seasons,

January to February to the Ides of March,

I am reminded of your timing.

I am reminded of the emperors who fell.

Of the empires that crumbled.

Of the centuries that are dust under my feet.

Of the things you have watched come and go.

Of the calling you gave me for such a time as this—reflect, repent, and be still.

My desire to give up is not a failure of my spirit.

It’s your spirit telling me exactly what I need.

My “give up” isn’t an act of empty rebellion,

It’s the rest and reset that I am made for.

So, as I prepare my heart for Lent,

I lift my hands to you and profess: I am giving up.

I am giving up my constant worries and trading them for kind actions.

I am giving up my nagging anxiety to sit in quiet stillness.

I am giving up my anger by tuning out the droning.

I am giving up my emptiness to fill my cup.

I am giving up my disappointment and preparing to seek your glory.

I am giving up my fear and leaning into your control.

I am giving up my desire to scream so I can hear when you whisper.

I am giving up my sense of self to reclaim my baptism in you.

I am giving up my fight or flight to bow my head and wait.

I am giving up the tension in my shoulders for moments of intentional reflection.

I am giving up invasive thoughts to internalize your word.

I am giving up my bad habits to refocus on being a good neighbor.

I am giving up my glorification of “busy” to spend time in earnest prayer.

I am giving up the burden of hate so I may lean into radical love.

I am giving up being overstimulated to nurture soft, safe spaces.

I am giving up the demands of the world so I may accept the fullness of the Passion.

In Advent, we anticipate hope.

In Epiphany, we celebrate transformation.

In Lent, we step back to reflect and repent.

In Holy Week, we prepare and grieve.

In Easter, we rejoice in the resurrection.

In Pentecost we receive the Spirit.

All in your time. All under your sun. All within your sovereignty. 

Lord, please pull my heart back to you with each season.

Hold me close as I listen for your guidance in the days ahead.

Help me sit, ponder, pray, and repent.

Forgive me when I stray.

Forgive me when I give in to darkness.

Forgive me when I fight the wrong battles.

Forgive me when I trust in man instead of in you.

Forgive me when my anxiety grabs for control.

Forgive me when I don’t seek your will.

Forgive me when I don’t listen.

Forgive me when I turn away.

Forgive me when I do too much.

Forgive me when I let “busy” consume me.

Forgive me when I follow the wrong path.

Forgive me when I let the world leave me jaded.

Forgive me when my heart is cold.

Forgive me when my faith fades.

Someday I know you will call my name

I will be asked to stand up and fight for what is right.

I will be asked to defend my neighbor.

To help my friends.

To speak for those who are ignored.

To pursue goodness and justice.

But before I can fight hard battles,

I know I must first surrender at your feet.

So, as I step into Lent, let this be the prayer of my heart:

Lord, help me give up.

Written for Walker Harbor Church, March 2025