It wasn’t until I was 7 years old that I learned about the concept of Lent. With an ash cross on my forehead for the very first time, I listened carefully, noting how I was to adhere to the tradition. I felt, even then, that my being accepted or loved by my God was not contingent on my practicing of Lent; but still, I was eager to be a part of something, eager to engage in a practice that would remind me of my devotion.

We were explained the concept of Lent in simple terms: Because Jesus suffered in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights, we were to follow this example by sacrificing something we loved. My first Lent, I gave up Eggo frozen blueberry waffles. It seems silly in retrospect, but I really did love those waffles.

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I learned pretty quickly that the adults in my life also gave up certain foods for Lent, quite often with a dieting mindset. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this (if done with healthy intentions), I decided that surrendering a certain food was not sufficient for me to feel like I had actually sacrificed anything meaningful.

My second Lent I decided to take things a step further. I gave up Chubby Bubby, my deeply beloved teddy bear. It was hard to sleep 40 nights without him and, I confess, I shed a tear when we were reunited on Easter.

Though no Lent season since has rivaled such an emotional sacrifice, I remember feeling closer to my faith after that than ever before. I had given up something deeply important to me, I proved to myself I was capable of it, and then the reunion felt like a divine gift.

I am not advocating here for someone to give up something they love merely because they will feel rewarded when they get it back. While I can’t make any overarching limit that applies to everyone, there is certainly a line to be drawn between a reasonable sacrifice and something that goes too far. The main rule I have is that the practice should never be entirely self-serving.

For the past few years, I have chosen to refrain from using all social media for the duration of Lent. And while I’ve given it up because I feel it is good for me, I also do it because I feel like the version of myself I have to offer is better when I’m not addicted to a screen.

I can better serve others and feel more connected to my faith by giving up social media. If I choose to give up a food or establish any dietary restrictions for Lent, I do so not with the intention of changing my physical appearance, but rather because I feel the physical cleansing will translate to a spiritual one.

While I have had largely gratifying results through observing Lent, I am not under the assumption that the practice should be for everyone. I merely believe that sacrifice and self-discipline can be a profound experience; not only can it make you feel stronger or clearer, it also has the potential to connect you to something greater than yourself — whatever that greater power may be.

The practice of self-sacrifice is hardly restricted to Catholicism. Judaism observes Yom Kippur, Islam observes Ramadan and Hinduism observes Maha Shivratri, to name a few. These practices are notable for fasting with the aim of cleansing both the body and the soul. Among friends and family who choose to observe such restrictions, I have noted overwhelming positive results — regardless of whatever religion these sacrifices constituted.

I’d argue there is ample room for such an experience in the secular realm as well. There is something to be said of clearing the body and mind of excesses — of getting back to the self — even if it’s done with a secular mindset. By reflecting on past seasons of Lent and why I choose to observe it, I realize sacrifice isn’t about what I lose, it’s about the faith I return to. I hope, regardless of what you believe, that this is a practice that can mean something to you, too.