Lent, lipstick, and letting go
The following essay is the second reflection for our March focus on the spiritual practice of Fasting. Read more here about our exploration of the spiritual disciplines in 2025 through creative and reflective writing.
I’m not saying that my decision to put on makeup earlier that morning caused the car accident on the highway. But as I inched along in traffic, the two events grew more connected.
I was on my way to a large speaking event at a church in Orange County. When they contacted me a few months before, I didn’t realize it would be a ninety-minute drive from my home in San Diego. When I said yes, I also didn’t know I would be working full-time for my own church. So, I was grateful that their group met on my day off.
The night before my big speaking event, I led the kids’ program for our Ash Wednesday service. My boys, ages nine and ten, had never been introduced to the concept of Lent.One question that they asked kept ringing in my ears. “What are you giving up for Lent, Mom?”
I didn’t grow up in a faith tradition that acknowledged Ash Wednesday or emphasized Lent. This was only my second year participating, but it bothered me that I didn’t have a ready answer for my sons.
“I’m still not sure,” I said.
In truth, I had an idea of what I should give up for Lent. But I had rejected that idea and chose to wait for an alternative to present itself. A week or two earlier, as I was sitting in silence and solitude, I considered my options. What could I give up for forty days in order to grow closer to God? Options were rejected as soon as they sprang to mind, until I began a spirited internal debate with myself.
“Abstaining from makeup is perfect. Every time you see yourself in the mirror you can be reminded that God loves you for who you are.”
“But I hardly spend five minutes putting on makeup. It’s really not that important to my life.”
“But you do care about what other people think about you. You like to manage other people’s impression of you.”
“But… it’s unprofessional!”
“I think you know I’m right.”
“Shhhhh.”
The answer was no. The matter was settled in my mind, until my ten-year-old asked his question on Ash Wednesday. No better option would be coming along to save me.
I feel like a failed feminist to even admit that going without makeup is a hardship. I know the beauty industry thrives from imposing its standards of youth and perfection. I also know I should inherently embrace my dignity and worth based on my identity as God's beloved rather than relying on my outward appearance
Yes, and I’m still drawn to shiny jewelry, new clothes, and the right shade of lipstick. I still feel a jolt of self-confidence after transforming my tired-mom face into my slay-the-day face. I rely on my outward appearance to communicate to the world my competence, my professionalism, and my ability to have it all together.
That morning on the highway, crawling forward between bursts of rain, I glanced back and forth between Google Maps and the rearview mirror. My eye makeup was impeccable. But it had taken me two hours to drive 40 miles. So, I called my contact at the church and told her my estimated time of arrival would now be right as their group was ending. She was understanding. We would reschedule.
I hung up and tested whether or not my new mascara was actually waterproof.
A rainstorm and a car accident are to blame for my disappointment that day. These things happen. In our attempts at meaning-making, it’s tempting to put ourselves at the center of the story. But as I glanced into the cars of the other frustrated drivers on the highway that morning, I realized my drama was only a side note.
The rain and the traffic were not all about me. Still, God used them to get my attention and nudge me to action.
I didn’t wear makeup for the rest of Lent that year, not to film announcements for my church, not even at my next speaking engagement. Every time I saw my naked face in the mirror, my heart sank with a beat and with the next beat I had to let go of the false standards I’d accepted and remind myself of the truth. God loves me for who I am. He made me and delights in me. My worth is not contingent on what I look like or what I do. So, I can stop chasing the approval and affection of others.
Even now, ever since that season has come and gone, every glance at my reflection is another opportunity to internalize God’s truth.
(Article originally posted on www.sarahkbutterfield.com)
Sarah K. Butterfield grew up as a missionary kid, worked as a special education teacher, and is now happiest as a full-time Children and Family Ministry Director. In addition to writing, speaking, and reading, she loves beach towns, thrift stores, hiking, and hanging out with her husband and two boys. You can connect with her on Facebook and Instagram, read more of her writing on her Substack, and get all the info for her book Around the Clock Mom: Make the Most of Your God-Given Time, her podcast Theology on Purpose, her course Spiritual Practices for the Busy Modern Woman, and more, all on her website.
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This is such a brave idea and I giggled a little at your internal debate that included "shhhh"-ing yourself. I've had similar ones!
Sarah, it's fascinating how God works in each of our lives in the most unique ways ...