The Way Of Sacrifice
We live in a culture obsessed with more.
More followers.
More productivity.
More comfort.
More upgrades.
We are told the secret to a full life is to never say no to ourselves. Keep consuming. Keep collecting. Keep climbing.
More, more, more.
But more is not always better.
Two years ago, around this time, I was packing for the Camino. A friend sent me a suggested packing list. It was far shorter than I expected.
My instinct was to bring everything I might need: extra snacks, gadgets, extra shoes, maybe a book or two. But experienced hikers know something beginners don’t — every extra ounce becomes pain somewhere around kilometer 40.
I carried two pillows. An inflatable one and a neck pillow. Why did I think I needed two? I hauled them more than 200 kilometers. There were items I never once used — but I felt every ounce of them.
More is not always better.
Sometimes more is what slows you down.
The Season of Subtraction
As we enter Lent, we step into a different rhythm — the holy art of subtraction.
Lent isn’t about adding more spiritual tasks to your calendar. It’s about removing weight from your soul.
The word Lent comes from an Old English word meaning “springtime” — the lengthening of days. For nearly two thousand years, the Church has observed these forty days (excluding Sundays) as a season of preparation leading to Easter.
Just as Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness before His public ministry, we enter our own desert to prepare our hearts for resurrection.
Historically, Lent was the final preparation for new believers before baptism. It was spiritual boot camp — prayer, repentance, clearing out what didn’t belong.
The early Church centered this season around three practices:
Fasting – Sacrificing comfort.
Prayer – Sacrificing time.
Almsgiving – Sacrificing resources.
It’s addition by way of subtraction.
Not spiritual weight loss — but spiritual clarity.
Lent proves to our souls that God is more necessary than our cravings.
The Way of Sacrifice
The invitation comes straight from Jesus:
“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)
This moment comes right after Peter declares Jesus to be the Messiah. And immediately Jesus explains what that means: suffering, rejection, death — and resurrection.
Then He turns not just to the Twelve, but to everyone:
“If anyone would come after Me…”
This isn’t elite Christianity.
This is normal Christianity.
Deny yourself.
That doesn’t mean hate yourself. It doesn’t mean punish yourself. It means relinquish self-rule. Step off the throne. Admit your preferences are not ultimate.
Our culture says:
Find yourself.
Express yourself.
Promote yourself.
Jesus says:
Deny yourself.
Take up your cross.
We’ve softened that phrase over time. Today the cross is jewelry, décor, inspiration. In the first century, it was an execution device. To take up your cross meant you were walking toward death.
Jesus is not calling us to seek suffering for its own sake. He is calling us to follow Him even when it costs something.
Luke adds one word that sharpens it:
Daily.
Not one dramatic sacrifice.
Ordinary surrender.
Repeated obedience.
Losing to Find
Jesus continues:
“Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.”
The word for life here is psyche — the self, the soul.
Grip your life tightly and it slips away.
Surrender it to Christ and you discover what it was meant to be.
The more we curate comfort, the more anxious we become.
The more we chase self-fulfillment, the more hollow we feel.
But when we give ourselves away — in love, obedience, generosity — something deeper awakens.
Sacrifice doesn’t diminish us.
It reorders us.
Chipping Away
There’s a story about Michelangelo being asked how he sculpted David. He said the statue was already in the marble — his job was simply to chip away everything that wasn’t David.
Lent is God’s hammer and chisel.
It chips away pride.
Distraction.
Noise.
Self-reliance.
Not to make you smaller — but to reveal Christ within you.
When we give something up, we discover what we’re attached to. Fasting becomes a diagnostic tool. It reveals our idols. It creates hunger.
And every time you miss what you gave up, let it become a prayer:
“Lord, I want You more than this.”
God is not hungry for your coffee.
He is not threatened by your social media.
He is not measuring your willpower.
Lent isn’t about impressing God.
It’s about exposing attachments.
What Are You Carrying?
So let me ask gently:
What are you holding onto?
Control?
Resentment?
Noise?
The last word?
Busyness that crowds out prayer?
Comfort that keeps you from generosity?
Sometimes what we need to lay down isn’t a substance — it’s a posture.
You cannot carry everything and carry a cross.
So we lay something down.
And in the laying down, we find freedom.
In surrender, we find life.
In sacrifice, we find Christ.
There is joy on the other side of surrender.
The cross is never the end of the story. Resurrection always follows.
So this Lent, ask prayerfully:
“Lord, what is hindering my wholehearted following of You?”
And when He answers — trust Him.
Lay it down.
Clear the path.
Make room.
Deny yourself.
Take up your cross.
Follow Him.
Because sometimes less really is more.