My first fast

A friend of mine loaned me a copy of Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster with no explanation other than "I felt led to give this to you." Not that I needed another example, but I immediately began preparing myself for a "there are no coincidences" moment. The book goes through twelve spiritual disciplines and explains how practicing them (without turning them into legalism) can bring you closer to God.

The chapter on fasting had a particular impact on me. I knew that fasting had been done in the past, and I know that it is still practiced today (even by people in my own church), but I had always associated it with some kind of physical or spiritual crisis, sort of like a hail Mary pass to God. Mr. Foster makes the case that this is not true, that fasting can be used regularly to increase your passion for and closeness to God.

John Piper, in the preface to A Hunger for God, says "The weakness of our hunger for God is not because He is unsavory, but because we keep ourselves stuffed with 'other things.' Perhaps, then, the denial of our stomach's appetite for food might express, or even increase, our soul's appetite for God." Increasing my soul's appetite for God is always a desirable result for me, so I've decided to try what Foster described as a basic fast, going twenty-four hours without food, from lunch one day to lunch the next. The advantage of starting on this timeline is that only two meals are skipped, making it easier for beginners like me not to yield to temptation. And since I have this here bloggy thing, I've decided to take you all along with me. So here we go...

12:15 PM:	Finish a healthy lunch of fruit, yogurt, and cheese. I decide to chase it with some BBQ potato chips and Doritos so I'll have happy memories to fall back on if this turns out to be harder than I think.
2:30 PM:	I feel hungry. I can't actually BE hungry at this point, I think part of me is starting to freak out at the thought of going until noon tomorrow without solid food.
4:30 PM:	Getting the first rumblings of actual hunger now. Unfortunately there's no way for my brain to explain to my stomach the higher purpose of what I'm doing. I think I Corinthians 6:12 is going to be handy for the rest of the night: "All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything."
5:40 PM:	Arrive home to find the house stocked with enough food and leftover Easter candy to become a humanitarian aid station if needed. The initial wave of hunger is subsiding so I'm not sorely tempted to give in. There's also a spark of clarity forming in the back of my mind. We (I mean personally and the culture as a whole) have way too much...stuff. Not a particularly new or groundbreaking insight, but I'm seeing it for the first time on a very personal level.
7:00 PM:	After a furious internal debate on whether to contribute at the prayer breakfast I attend on Friday mornings, when I won't be partaking in the breakfast, I decide the money is really for the teaching and not the food. So Pastor Skip will be getting his $2 after all. I feel like I'm starting to be guided toward what God wants to reveal to me. II Corinthians 12:9 keeps springing into my head: "And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."
5:00 AM:	I expected to wake up ravenous and ready to eat everything I could get my hands on but the desire isn't there. I also notice a subtle shift in my mindset, as I don't feel the need to check facebook before continuing with my day.
6:15 AM:	Arrive at Man Alive. Does coffee count? Please Lord, tell me that coffee doesn't count as breaking the fast early. God's answer is that He would let black coffee slide but if I add milk or sugar then it's over. I'm certain He said this just because I'm not yet desperate enough to drink black coffee. I also need to keep myself from judgmental thoughts as I watch all the other men pile bagels and scrambled eggs onto their plates. It does, however, lead me to wonder what kind of sick, food and drug addicted society have we become? And what in the world can I do about it?
8:15 AM:	The hunger pangs are back, but I now know that I have the strength through Christ to see this to the end. It's working! Thank you Jesus, it's working!
12:00 PM:	Acts 10:13

So what did I learn?

• I was concerned about getting on an emotional roller coaster as this went on, and a little worried that this would reveal a spirit of anger deep within me. I find the fact that I was able to remain calm during this whole thing encouraging.
• Self-denial can actually be a liberating experience. As I looked at my pantry full of food and realized that I was free to walk away without having any, it put a little spring in my step.
• My perspective changes in such a short period were amazing. I'm now seeing food, and even possessions in general, in a whole new light.

And, would I do it again? Yes, but I wouldn't make it a regularly scheduled thing and run the risk of making the fast my focus or falling into spiritual pride. I think spontaneous is the way to go.

Thursday, roughly 2,000 years ago

h/t Marco Fiorentino. Thanks for sharing.

“He Chose You” – by Max Lucado
From The Final Week of Jesus, pp 91-94

“It’s nearly midnight when they leave the upper room and descend through the streets of the city. They pass the Lower Pool and exit the Fountain Gate and walk out of Jerusalem . The roads are lined with the fires and tents of Passover pilgrims. Most are asleep, heavied with the evening meal. Those still awake think little of the band of men walking the chalky road.

They pass through the valley and ascend the path which will take them to Gethsemane. The road is steep so they stop to rest. Somewhere within the city walls the twelfth apostle darts down a street. His feet have been washed by the man he will betray. His heart has been claimed by the Evil One he has heard. He runs to find Caiaphas.

The final encounter of the battle has begun.

As Jesus looks at the city of Jerusalem , he sees what the disciples can’t. It is here, on the outskirts of Jerusalem , that the battle will end. He sees the staging of Satan. He sees the dashing of the demons. He sees the Evil One preparing for the final encounter. The enemy lurks as a spectre over the hour. Satan, the host of hatred, has seized the heart of Judas and whispered in the ear of Caiaphas. Satan, the master of death, has opened the caverns and prepared to receive the source of light.

Hell is breaking loose.

History records it as a battle of the Jews against Jesus. It wasn’t. It was a battle of God against Satan.

And Jesus knew it. He knew that before the war was over, he would be taken captive. He knew that before victory would come defeat. He knew that before the throne would come the cup. He knew that before the light of Sunday would come the blackness of Friday.

And he is afraid.

He turns and begins the final ascent to the garden. When he reaches the entry he stops and turns his eyes toward his circle of friends. It will be the last time he sees them before they abandon him. He knows what they will do when the soldiers come. He knows their betrayal is only minutes away.

But he doesn’t accuse. He doesn’t lecture. Instead, he prays. His last moments with his disciples are in prayer. And the words he speaks are as eternal as the stars which hear them.

Imagine, for a moment, yourself in this situation. Your final hour with a son about to be sent overseas. Your last moments with your dying spouse. One last visit with your parent. What do you say? What do you do? What words do you choose?

It’s worth noting that Jesus chose prayer. He chose to pray for us. ‘I pray for these men. But I am also praying for all people who will believe in me because of the teaching of these men. Father, I pray that all people who believe in me can be one…I pray that these people can also be one in us, so that the world will believe that you sent me.’ (John 17:20-21)

You need to note that in this final prayer, Jesus prayed for you. You need to underline in red and highlight in yellow his love: ‘I am also praying for all people who will believe in me because of the teaching.’ That is you. As Jesus stepped into the garden, you were in his prayers. As Jesus looked into heaven, you were in his vision. As Jesus dreamed of the day when we will be where he is, he saw you there.

His final prayer was about you. His final pain was for you. His final passion was you.

He then turns, steps into the garden, and invites Peter, James, and John to come. He tells them his soul is ‘overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,’ and begins to pray.

Never has he felt so alone. What must be done, only he can do. An angel can’t do it. No angel has the power to break open hell’s gates. A man can’t do it. No man has the purity to destroy sin’s claim. No force on earth can face the force of evil and win – except God.

‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,’ Jesus confesses.

His humanity begged to be delivered from what his divinity could see. Jesus, the carpenter implores. Jesus, the man, peers into the dark pit and begs, ‘Can’t there be another way?’

Did he know the answer before he asked the question? Did his human heart hope his heavenly father has found another way? We don’t know. But we do know he asked to get out. We do know he begged for an exit. We do know there was a time when if he could have, he would have turned his back on the whole mess and gone away.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because he saw you. Right there in the middle of a world which isn’t fair. He saw you cast into a river of life you didn’t request. He saw you betrayed by those you love. He saw you with a body which gets sick and a heart which grows weak.

He saw you in your own garden of gnarled trees and sleeping friends. He saw you staring into the pit of your own failures and the mouth of your own grave.

He saw you in your Garden of Gethsemane – and he didn’t want you to be alone.

He wanted you to know that he has been there, too. He knows what it’s like to be plotted against. He knows what it’s like to be confused. He knows what it’s like to be torn between two desires. He knows what it’s like to smell the stench of Satan. And, perhaps most of all, he knows what it’s like to beg God to change his mind and to hear God say so gently, but firmly, ‘No.’

For that is what God says to Jesus. And Jesus accepts the answer. At some moment during that midnight hour an angel of mercy comes over the weary body of the man in the garden. As he stands, the anguish is gone from his eyes. His fist will clench no more. His heart will fight no more.

The battle is won. You may have thought it was won on Golgotha . It wasn’t. You may have thought the sign of victory is the empty tomb. It isn’t. The final battle was won in Gethsemane . And the sign of conquest is Jesus at peace in the olive trees.

For it was in the garden that he made the decision. He would rather go to hell for you than go to heaven without you.