The forty days leading up to Easter form a season of the Christian calendar called Lent. Many Christians temporarily give up something like a food or activity for those weeks, emulating Christ's sacrifice during the forty days He spent in the desert. But I never fully understood this practice until the spring of 2019 while living in Sweden. My interest was piqued after observing a crowd of people buying pastries at a bakery before Lent.

In Sweden, they have a special dessert known as "Semla." Many Swedes, Christians, and non-Christians, feast on this pastry from Christmas until the first day of Lent, when they begin a period of denying themselves the decadent treat until Easter (except on Tuesdays, when there's a loophole). For many, participating in Lent this way is more of a tradition than a spiritual exercise.

Our apartment was across the avenue from a popular bakery. In the weeks leading up to Lent, I watched as the line at the bakery grew longer each day, often twenty people deep, as everyone rushed out for Semla before the self-imposed period of deprivation. It almost reminded me of the Israelites gathering up too much manna because they were scared they would never eat again.

This type of "giving up something" is how I had always viewed Lent. Like a holiday tradition that everyone follows together – a legalistic practice of not eating or drinking or watching Netflix for weeks while lamenting the loss to friends. Watching the Semla line grow outside my window that year, I realized I had never given up anything for Lent.

Was there any value to it, I wondered, or had Lent become a secularized version of the religious practice? Would I end up simply commiserating with friends about what we were sacrificing, or would I glean a deeper spiritual meaning?

Deciding whether or not to give up something during that Lenten season, I quickly realized how difficult it was to stop anything, even briefly. Common choices are sweets (or other foods), wine, social media, or a specific habit or activity. I worried that it would be too hard, and I would fail in my commitment to the Lord. But, honestly, I also felt reluctant to part with anything I enjoyed, even something that was not good for me.

I wondered if it was legalistic to participate in this human idea that had become widely practiced. I couldn't find anywhere in the Bible where God said to deprive ourselves of something leading up to Easter.

What would be my purpose in doing it? Would it be an attempt to prove my love for Him, to try to earn His approval? I knew God's favor was a gift of grace. Was choosing not to eat cookies for forty days a way to honor Christ? Christ gave His life for me – was Lent a time to help me learn to appreciate that more fully – by seeing how hard it was to give up even a cupcake?

Looking for answers in the Bible, I read in the Old and New Testaments that Jesus and others fasted at various times and always included prayer. So replacing something fleshly with something spiritual made sense and had a Biblical basis. Also, I read 1 Corinthians 6:12, where Paul wrote that "all things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful." So perhaps Lent was an opportunity to give up something permissible but not helpful physically or spiritually. For example, I realized that although God had given me the freedom to eat sweet treats or use a smartphone, maybe I was using those things in ways that weren't beneficial to me or others. Perhaps I was using them to assuage deeper needs that only God could fill.

Taking the plunge, I chose something to give up for forty days. And as I struggled to live up to my commitment, the reality of my lack of self-control became more apparent. But after reading Proverbs 25:28, I knew I didn't want to be like a city with broken walls because I lacked self-control.

As I participated in Lent that year, I learned that fasting from something permissible but not beneficial is an excellent opportunity to exercise living within the boundaries God set for me. I became aware of areas where I was living outside of the fences that God had lovingly placed in my life to protect me. My Lent practice also helped me see how I relied on earthly things to fill spiritual needs.

For example, I became aware that I would scroll through my phone when I was lonely or eat when I felt depleted but not hungry. When food or activity crossed the line from straightforward enjoyment to a fruitless effort to replace God's best with the world's poor substitute, I noticed. Participating in Lent helped me recognize when my habits and indulgences led me away from a path of godliness and love and instead carried me down a path of emptiness.

Observing Lent turned out to be a valuable time to intentionally reflect on God's work to refine me – what He had already done through the cross and what He was still doing through the Holy Spirit.

By the time Easter rolled around, I could see that the weeks leading up to it were the perfect time to open this door for spiritual examination. As Lent gave way to Easter, I appreciated the wonderful gift of the cross more than ever before. The inconvenience of giving up a little habit paled compared to the relief and gratitude I felt toward Jesus for covering my sins. And I was grateful that God used that tiny season of temporary sacrifice to open a broader space in my heart and mind to receive the better things He had for me.