IT TOOK me to give up coffee for Lent to realise just how much I was paying for it. The habit of buying my morning takeout Americano from a branch of a deli chain conveniently situated between the train station and the office, and taking it to my desk to consume, was just that: an unthinking habit practised daily, so routine that I’d actually look out the £2 it cost before I got on the train into town each morning and never give it a second thought. I did it for years, while a staffer in this newspaper’s offices.

When I’d give it up for the 40 days of Lent – the period of fasting and abstinence between the first Sunday after Ash Wednesday (tomorrow) and Easter Sunday – and drop the coins into my chosen charity box instead, it soon mounted up so that by the dawn of Good Friday there would be at least £60 in there. And that’s just from one individual.

Now that I no longer travel to the office every working day, I find myself in a dilemma. I don’t go out for coffee every day but if I do, I can always switch to tea but then still have to settle the bill with cash that could have gone to the charity box. So I’ve been searching for something else to give up for Lent, which among other things is a recognition of need to realign our bodies in readiness for spring after the indulgences of winter eating, Christmas festivities and the sugar-and-fat-fest that is the Great British Bake-Off.

Giving things up – and suffering a bit in the process – is only part of what Lent is about. Fasting (which used to be known rather quaintly as the mortification of the body leading to penance and prayer) is a major part of it too, but only really practised these days on Ash Wednesday and Fridays. So although Lent is just as old, it could be seen as a watered-down version of Ramadan, the ancient Islamic practice of fasting from dawn until sunset for 30 days each year.

We’re taught that there’s no greatness in self-imposed suffering if it does no good to others. But this isn’t unique to Lent either. Fasting and abstinence have become popular secular practices too. The 5:2 diet involves fasting for two days each week and No-Drink November (a new version of Sober October) and the January Dryathlon – billed as a “test of willpower” – encourage us to give up alcohol after the Christmas binge and to donate the money saved to charity. The former takes place all year round, and the latter just before Lent. Both are supported by social media and have huge appeal for people of all religions and none, especially the young. Sponsored, and very public, self-denial is trending, with many charities benefitting, not just Catholic or Christian ones.

So giving up coffee has become just another thing to do and has lost its USP. Lent has become stripped of any special meaning, even for some Catholics. I saw a tweet the other day, which read along the lines of “Dry January and now Lent. What is it with these people who get off on giving things up?”.

Somewhere along the way, the Lenten rule of not showing off your suffering in public seems to have been lost.

So I wonder if Lent could be an opportunity to think outside the box.

We could use it to get a grip of our diet, help the planet and support those who against the odds are trying to make a difference by challenging the skewed global food system.

A start would be to take control of what we’re putting in our bodies. At the moment, year-round consumption of unhealthy food is out of control – with consequences on our nation’s health record as well as the planet.

A friend of mine has decided to try living on a diet of non-processed food for the entire 40 days. By his own admission, this will mean hard work: sourcing ingredients and cooking them for much of the time, dropping most meat and fish and bread, and focusing instead on vegetables and pulses. Pre-planning and preparation will be necessary. In other words, he’ll be practising mindful eating. It won’t be easy, because the temptation to snarf down the odd bacon roll or burger or biscuit will always be thrown in his path. I admire him. He reckons that if we’re to take Lent seriously, we need to look at how we manage our food and drink for the long term.

Eating naturally goes hand in hand with eating locally grown food. So my friend will be helping the people in Scotland who, with dwindling available funds (the Community Food Fund is one that is coming to an end), are trying to start up or maintain veg box delivery schemes, community kitchen gardens, organic farms, food assemblies, local cafes and restaurants, and so on.

If we all did that, we’d eat less of the bad stuff and more of the good, thus nourishing our bodies and souls into the bargain.

Maybe that way I could still have the odd cup of Fairtrade coffee between now and Easter.