Here I am in my least favorite place in the world, the Atlanta airport. Wending my way through the crowd, a voice through the speakers welcomes us to “the world’s busiest airport,” as if we need a reminder.  

I’m on my way to Oklahoma City to visit my sister, who is scheduled for heart surgery the next day. It’s hard for me to admit this, but I’m scared about the unknown that awaits me. Will she get through the surgery OK? Will I know how to care for her, when she comes home to her apartment?  

After grappling with the full range of “what ifs,” I realize this trip is my Lenten sacrifice. I could have stayed home and no one would have said a word. Instead, I am leaving my comfortable routine and my cozy house to confront the unknown.  

Over the years, I’ve done the usual stuff for Lent. Gave up sweets, gave up wine, gave up streaming videos. When Easter rolled around, I can’t say I was much different than at the start of the Lenten season.  

Every year I’ve scrutinized the meaning of Lent and puzzled about its true goal. For someone like me who has been on diets her entire life, giving up sweets or snacks hasn’t brought me closer to God.  

At heart, Lent is about spiritual transformation. During spring, we witness drab trees exploding into frenzies of color. Daffodils raising their buttery heads from green stems. Blueberry bushes showing off frilly blossoms like a little girl with a new dress.  

Who do I want to be by Easter? Someone who gave up M&M’S? Someone who stayed off social media? Not really. How about someone who has grown closer to Jesus Christ?  

He didn’t shrink from the uncomfortable things. He walked miles on dusty, rocky roads to meet the crowds waiting for him. He gave himself to bullies who whipped and tortured him. He could have called down legions of angels to defend him, but he didn’t.  

During Lent, can I do the uncomfortable things? Can I make sacrifices for my sister? This means packing my bags when I’d be happier at home. It means fighting the anxiety that comes with flying. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying these minor inconveniences in any way approximate Christ’s sacrifice. But for a selfish person like me, they are one step forward. 

When I arrived in Oklahoma City, things started becoming clearer. Instead of suffering because of my sacrifices, I experienced the joy of seeing my niece, her teenage son and her toddler waiting for me at the airport. I saw the look of happiness on my sister’s face, when she greeted me at her apartment.  

Later that day, the doctor’s office called and rescheduled the surgery. I could have considered the trip a wasted effort, but instead I relished the time with my sister and the rest of the family. I also experienced the drama of my first Oklahoma windstorm. And on the flight back, there was plenty of turbulence.   

It was all part of a very different kind of Lent. The sacrifices hadn’t been chosen by me; you see. God had worked out all the details. He was asking me to sacrifice my habit of worrying and learn to trust him. He was calling me to give up comfort in the interests of love.  

I plan to fly back to my sister’s for the re-scheduled surgery. This means another foray into the world’s busiest airport. It means leaving behind my comfortable routine. Jesus said, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” I pray that when Easter comes around, I will be a tiny bit closer to the Lord.