Lent 2025 Day 21: When Endings Make Room for New Beginnings

Flannel Diaries
Mar 28
3 min read

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” – Lao Tzu

We’ve passed the halfway mark of Lent. And I’ve done pretty well avoiding soda pop (minus that one time—but it might’ve been a Sunday, and we know Sundays don’t count). So here I am again, trying to make sense of life through the lens of Lent.

But I keep asking: do we really need to give something up to feel close to God—or to the Divine Spirit?

After a lifetime of disappointment with religious institutions, I’ve come to accept that I’ll probably never be part of a church again. Too much judgment. Too much hypocrisy. Too many people calling themselves “children of God” while behaving in ways that dishonor Christ’s message.

If you claim to be Christian but don’t know what Ash Wednesday or Lent is—and say it’s just “a Catholic thing”—you’re only Christian in name, not in practice. Lent is central to the Christian story. It’s the sacred lead-up to the Crucifixion and Resurrection—the arc that turns Jesus from a wise teacher into the Christ. Without the rising, Jesus is just another storyteller. But with it? Magical Jesus. Zombie Jesus. That’s the foundation of the Christian faith.

And yet, some of the loudest voices claiming Christianity are the furthest from living Christ-like lives.

Performative Christianity is a plague.

If you go to church every Sunday, tithe regularly, serve on committees—but ignore your neighbor in need, judge others harshly, or hoard power and privilege—you’ve missed the point entirely. Jesus didn’t climb social ladders or seek power. He turned over tables in temples. He broke bread with outsiders. He healed and fed and loved relentlessly.

If you’re not walking that talk, St. Peter might be a little judgy when you show up at the gates. Just saying. And no, you can’t bribe your way in. That’s in the Bible—if you’ve actually read it.

I may be blunt. I may not do pleasantries well. But I live my life with integrity, compassion, and a passion for justice. That’s how I practice my faith—not in performance, but in presence.

I don’t need a church to affirm I’m a good person. I know I’m a good person because of how I show up—for myself, for others, for the world. I honor the eight billion ways people believe, as long as those beliefs don’t cause harm.

We’re too busy trying to be liked while others are literally dying from a lack of love, food, shelter, and justice. We don’t need more polite smiles—we need more people who give a damn.

So I’ll keep walking this Lenten path, not because I need religion to tell me who I am—but because I believe transformation begins with truth. And truth begins with action.