The difficult journey that is Lent.

This year, especially.

The Rt. Rev. Phoebe Roaf, Bishop of the Diocese of West Tennessee, preaching at a past Lenten Preaching Series at Calvary Episcopal Church.

As you know if you’ve been reading this column for a while, I’m a church person. I love singing in the choir. More than that, though, the community of faith that I am a part of at my longtime Episcopal church in Memphis has sustained me, challenged me and given me role models I could never have found any other place.

Even so, you might be surprised to find out that I love Lent.

Yes, the season of denial and fasting, of prayer and penitence leading up to the brilliance of Easter is one of my favorite seasons in the church.

Part of it, again, is because of Calvary in Memphis, which has opened its doors to the city during Lent for more than 100 (!) years, offering preaching of all kinds at noon, three days a week. This year we will welcome a rabbi, multiple priests, a professor, a poet, a bishop, a baker and a playwright, among others. You never really know what you’ll hear from the pulpit during Lent, but it’s always worth hearing.

The other part of Lent at church that makes me love it is something called the Waffle Shop, a quasi-restaurant in the basement that offers traditional lunches for people who have just heard the preaching or just want to come and eat good food.

When I say traditional, I mean it. You’ll find homemade waffles — I guess they were a low-cost offering in the early years — but also tomato aspic, chicken salad made with homemade mayonnaise, peppermint ice cream with hot fudge for dessert and other delicacies. The house favorite, served only on Fridays, is fish pudding, which sounds awful but is actually a wonderful, rich casserole. Trust me, it’s great.

The fish pudding plate comes with corn sticks, cole slaw and potatoes along with a dollop of homemade mayonnaise on top of the fish pudding. Trust me, it’s great.

At Waffle Shop, you’ll also often find yourself eating lunch next to someone you don’t know. You’ll introduce yourself and engage in polite and often fascinating conversation. Where else do you find that these days?

Aside from the preaching and fish pudding, Lent for me is a time to re-evaluate, slow down and think. As the great Kate Bowler says, Lent can be a time to “stop pretending … sit with what is fragile … let grace sneak in through the cracks.”

This year, though, I am struggling with my Lenten discipline. You know, the commitment I make to give something up or take something on for the duration of the 40 days.

When I was younger, I’d stop eating chocolate or drinking wine. I was never particularly successful, which always made me feel like a failure.

As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve tried to pay closer attention to what God is asking me to do for these precious 40 days. A few years ago, I realized that taking something on, or changing something for the better, was as powerful as denial. Actually, it might be more powerful.

This year, during a time of so much upheaval, chaos and suffering, I have given a lot of thought to my Lenten discipline.

I know that some of my friends have given up reading/watching the news. While I certainly understand the impulse, that will never be an option for me. Aside from the engagement and perspective that I owe my clients, I feel almost obsessed with staying informed and awake right now. It’s pretty painful sometimes … well, all the time.

Social media isn’t the same as news — really, it isn’t — but giving up social media isn’t an option for me, either, though I’ve tried to restrain my scrolling to a few minutes in the morning and a few minutes at night. I’ve missed some stuff, which gives me passing FOMO. But I’ve also seen friends’ adorable new dogs, childrens’ milestones, art works and gorgeous pictures of the crescent moon hanging low over the river.

So what I’ve decided to do is spend these 40 days focusing on courage — and kindness.

Courage to speak up for things I think are critical to our country and the world. Courage not to give in to despair in the face the tide of cruelty, destruction and just plain meanness that seems to define our public life right now. Courage to DO something about that, whether it’s call my Senators (again) or reach out to help someone who might need it, especially now.

Which leads me to kindness.

The world is a broken place, and that old saying, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle,” feels doubly true right now. I will try, every day, to go gently through the world and take care with the feelings of my fellow humans.

I know I will fail sometimes.

But at least for these 40 days, it’s worth trying.