Lent and the Artist of Faith

Lent isn’t something most evangelical churches practice. It’s a somewhat misunderstood concept for those outside of high church traditions, and yet, it is a God-honoring spiritual practice that I believe has many benefits.

Lent is the period in the Christian calendar preceding Easter intended to reconnect us with the internal thirst we have for God. Hearkening to the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness, Lent traditionally runs for forty week days, from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday (the day prior to Easter). Typical Christian practices during Lent include fasting, daily devotionals, and abstinence. These practices, particularly those which include self-deprivation, are intended to help us take the focus off of ourselves and prepare us to enter into a greater awareness of God in our lives. And this isn’t just an arbitrary practice. Fasting and abstinence is a time-honored Christian tradition that goes all the way back to Jesus’ desert experience, where he practiced intense fasting, solitude, abstinence, and prayer.

But the idea of self-denial seems a bizarre, foreign concept in this day and age. Our modern culture practices overindulgence, overspending, overeating, excessiveness, self-gratification. So many people trying to fill the holes in their hearts with all manner of materialism, escapism, substance abuse, selfishness. And when we do practice self-denial (like dieting), it isn’t about God so much as it is often about more superficial things.

So, when a person does decide to enter into the Lenten season through some act of abstinence, it’s usually about giving up candy or sweets, alcohol or tobacco. And these can be very good things—if it helps to focus more on spiritual things. But ideally, what one should do is to give up something that actually can reorient one’s soul. In other words, giving up something that will form you spiritually.

Skipping a meal in order to have an extended time of prayer. Fasting from social media in order not to enter into the soul-numbing contentiousness and dissent. Proactively cleaning the kitchen or bathroom without keeping score with your spouse or roommate, as an act of being a servant of God. Driving the speed limit and being aware of your attitude toward other drivers, as a means of humanizing the traffic that often times will frustrate you. These are all examples of how you can properly apply Lenten practices in a soul-forming way.

Now, how does this apply to artists of faith?

All art is defined, in part, by the limitations imposed upon it. A painting is defined, in part, by the size of the canvas and the brush in the hand. A film is defined, in part, by the camera, the story, the location.  And a solo piano composition is defined, in part, by the number of hands one has. A haiku is limited to a very precise order of syllables. All art is limited by the medium in which it is expressed. Our ability to embrace those limitations—to work within them and even stretch the boundaries of those limitations—is what makes for great art.

So all art is defined by the limitations of the particular art form of that art.  Those who are great at their art have simply learned to master their limitations. So let me offer you a challenge this Lenten season. Place a self-imposed limitation on your art form, and try to work within it. If you’re a visual artist, perhaps you might want to limit your color palette. If you’re a writer, maybe limit yourself to a short story or novella. If you’re a songwriter, strip down your instrumentation or arrangements. Say more with less.

A number of years ago, one of my dear friends and a world-class Pysanky artist, Teresa Mihalko Harbert, decided that she would create a series of black and white eggs for the season of Lent. She felt that this limitation—creating Pysanky void of the typical vibrant colors which were characteristic of her designs— was an artistic statement of how beauty can still be a part of the desert experience.

Teresa went to be with the Lord six years ago now. But her work still speaks so very clearly of beauty and blessing in the midst of deprivation and suffering.

The truth is, we all have limitations. Even our humanity is, by definition, a limitation. But it is also a wondrous and mysterious gift.  And embracing our limitations—and understanding them as the gifts that they are—is simply one more step toward spiritual maturity.

[Banner Photo: Gian D. on Unsplash. Inset photo: Teresa Mihalko Harbert, Lent gallery, by Ryan Harbert.]