At the end of the day…for what it’s worth…dead as a doornail…what goes around comes around…beat a dead horse…cool…nuke it in the microwave…bad hair day…surreal…

Baptists aren’t really required to give up anything for Lent. We aren’t allowed to do most of what other denominations are renouncing anyway, so why quit the one thing we can do, eat? It has become a trend recently for seekers to “give up” something, and that’s good if it leads to doing penance, mortifying the flesh, and self-denial, which I understand were the original reasons for Lent. Paraphrased.

For the last three years, I have relinquished something related to language, perhaps exposing the near-sacred position in which I place language. Three years ago, I stopped using clichés, trying to find more creative ways to express myself. While a cliché can provide a shortcut to comprehension, it can also be a crutch. In a professional social situation years ago, at a gathering of fellow grad students who were strangers, I began to realize that every sentence coming out of my mouth contained a cliché. I didn’t understand this, but it didn’t keep me from continuing to use them, even stacking them like turtles on a log (which isn’t really used enough to be considered a cliché, is it?). Only later, as I thought about the situation, did it dawn on me that in my nervous emotional state, my brain was defaulting to tried and true phrases that I hoped would carry me. So, I decided to analyze why I was depending on clichés and to expand my speech by avoiding them.

Last year, I tried to completely avoid adverbs, those portly, most lazy parts of speech. People rely on adverbs in a couple of ways. They deny the powerful muscle of the sentence, the verb, the opportunity to flex by instead comping to tired, worn out words, pumped up with an adverb. For example, instead of saying “he sidled over to the hostage,” one might write, “he walked sneakily to the hostage.” I’ve even seen, “he walked amblingly!” Why not, “he ambled?” The second way speakers use adverbs is to gain time and add (insubstantial) substance to a sentence because it isn’t conveying much meaning anyway. They stall or dissemble by uttering, “Well, basically what I’m trying to say”, “Actually, the point I’m making is”, “Practically” or, “Essentially”. When I hear those vapid words used, especially several in a paragraph’s worth of conversation, red flags go up. And everyone recognizes the misuse of “literally” and “virtually.” Thus, in abandoning adverbs, I tried to find stronger verbs to express myself.

This year, I thought about surrendering emojis. Yes, laugh, it’s funny to me too, the sheer insignificance of this minor sacrifice. But remember, I’m not using Lent as a time of spiritual reflection and personal denial. I’m merely taking an already-prescribed portion of time and exploring vagaries of speech and language as a means of reflecting on what I mean to say. What’s the big deal with forsaking emojis? They have a place, with people we don’t know well, as little bridges of meaning, day-brighteners, pictures worth their own thousand characters to convey light-hearted messages, or to show we’re technically savvy enough to produce them. But they become problematic when we can’t think of a way to express what an emoji will express. To avert being stunted in this way, I found other phrases. Thumbs up? Good to go.  Hearts or kissy-face? Xoxo, love you, or thanks–. Balloons? Way to go! Congratulations! Proud of you!

I’ve been tempted to tip in an emoji for my son’s birthday, for a solicitous message to an acquaintance with a teething infant, to a friend who needs affirmation. Make no mistake, though, I’m searching for ways I can express myself without resorting to the little creatures. I close in noting that in moderation, clichés, adverbs, and emojis are good. If Lent in its conventional sense doesn’t lead a person to think differently, not much transformation occurs. So even in my little way, I’m experiencing a change, albeit linguistically.  And in the same way as with the bad habits that seekers attempt to shed during Lent, perhaps success occurs by our realizing and addressing what we’ve allowed to run to extreme.