A thoughtful mid-Lent reflection on identity, humility, and responsibility. What it means to wear the crown and carry the cross as the Lenten journey continues.
A Mid-Lent Reflection
By the time we reach this point in Lent—roughly two-thirds of the way through—the season often begins to feel different than it did at the start.
The early enthusiasm may have softened. The intentions we began with may have been interrupted by ordinary life. Some of the practices we committed to may feel easier now, while others may have quietly slipped away.
This middle stretch of the journey can reveal something important.
The beginning of Lent is often filled with motivation. The end carries the anticipation of what lies ahead. But the middle is where the deeper reflection tends to take place. It is where we begin to notice what this season is truly uncovering in us.
And sometimes what we discover is not what we expected.
A mid-Lent reflection invites us to pause—not to judge our progress, but simply to notice what is unfolding within us.
My Personal Focus This Lent
This year my personal focus during Lent has centered around a somewhat unusual idea.
I have been learning to wear my crown on my head instead of holding it in my hands.
For much of my life, I have had a tendency to carry my identity cautiously or camouflaged.
Instead of standing firmly in who I am, I often found myself holding my “crown” in my hand—waiting for permission, validation, or reassurance before placing it where it belongs.
Lent has been inviting me to shift that posture.
Not toward arrogance.
Not toward self-promotion.
But toward quiet ownership of the identity and responsibility entrusted to me.
By crown, I do not mean status or superiority. I mean the quiet responsibility of living honestly in the identity we have been given.
Holding the Crown vs. Wearing It
As I reflected on this idea, a simple realization began to take shape.
Sometimes we hold our crown instead of wearing it.
Holding the crown often looks like:
- Seeking validation before trusting our own calling
- Waiting for external approval before stepping forward
- Shrinking back from responsibility because it feels uncomfortable
- Looking to others to define who we are
In many ways, holding the crown is about seeking validation.
But wearing the crown is different.
Wearing the crown looks like:
- Living with integrity even when no one is watching
- Accepting responsibility for who we are becoming
- Walking in quiet confidence rather than needing recognition
- Serving others without needing to prove our worth
Wearing the crown is not about elevating ourselves above others.
It is about living in quiet responsibility.
Where This Fits in a Season Like Lent
At first glance, talking about crowns during Lent may seem like a contradiction.
Lent is often associated with sacrifice, humility, and letting go of things that distract us from what truly matters.
So where does the idea of a crown belong in a season like this?
The answer became clearer the more I reflected on the example we are following.
The life we reflect on during Lent reveals something profound: true leadership is rooted in service.
The one we look to walked with full awareness of his identity, yet chose humility, compassion, and sacrifice.
He did not cling to status.
He did not seek recognition.
He did not avoid hardship.
Instead, he modeled something deeper: servant leadership.
This reveals an important truth.
Knowing who we are does not prevent humility.
In many ways, it actually makes humility possible.
When our identity is secure, we no longer need to grasp for validation or approval. We are free to serve.
The Crown and the Cross
This reflection eventually led me to another realization.
If we are following the example set before us, wearing the crown also means being willing to carry the cross.
Identity and sacrifice are not opposites.
They often walk together.
Living honestly in who we are sometimes requires difficult choices. It may ask us to stand firm when it would be easier to shrink back. It may ask us to serve when recognition is unlikely. It may ask us to love, forgive, or persevere when doing so carries a cost.
In that sense, the cross represents the cost of living with integrity.
Holding the crown seeks validation.
Wearing the crown accepts responsibility.
And the cross represents the willingness to live that responsibility out—quietly, faithfully, and often without applause.
The Middle of the Journey
Perhaps this is why the middle of Lent can feel so meaningful.
The beginning of the season often carries inspiration.
But the middle is where honesty begins to surface.
This is the point where we may start to notice the subtle ways we hesitate, shrink, or question ourselves. It is also where we may begin to see small shifts taking place—new awareness, deeper clarity, or a growing steadiness.
Two-thirds of the way through Lent reminds us that the journey is still unfolding.
There is still time to reflect.
Still time to notice.
Still time to grow.
Finishing the Season with Intention
As the final weeks of Lent approach, the invitation is not to strive for perfection but to remain present.
Maybe that means recommitting to the practice you began.
Maybe it means simplifying your focus.
Maybe it means simply paying closer attention to what this season has been revealing.
Transformation rarely happens all at once. More often, it unfolds quietly through small shifts in awareness and intention.
A Gentle Encouragement
Wherever you find yourself in this Lenten season—whether steady, struggling, or somewhere in between—you are still part of the journey.
There is no requirement to finish perfectly.
Only an invitation to continue honestly.
Perhaps these remaining weeks offer an opportunity to reflect on what it means to both wear the crown and carry the cross—to live with integrity, humility, and quiet responsibility in the life we have been given.
And sometimes, that quiet willingness is where the deepest transformation begins.
A Closing Reflection
As the remaining weeks of Lent unfold, perhaps there is space to gently consider:
Are there places in your life where you are still holding your crown in your hands, waiting for validation before stepping fully into who you are meant to be?
And are there places where you may be invited to wear that crown quietly, embracing both the responsibility and the humility that come with living honestly and faithfully?
Because sometimes the journey of faith asks us to do both.
To wear the crown with integrity.
And to carry the cross with grace.