it's saturday evening. much has transpired since my first fast in 3 and a half years. the kids and i have weathered another four days without mark; we've also weathered some colds and vomiting (as my parents' neighbors set off fireworks to celebrate the new year, i was fiercely embracing the toilet). i also received the highest paying job of my editing career yet, watched a great movie, and had a wonderful visit with old friends. it's been an eventful week.
so what of my fast? i made it. i kept food outside of my mouth for the allotted time, yet i ended feeling like it was a failure. rather than embracing my fast as i hoped to (and preached to mark about for years), i gave into my flesh and watched the clock. i didn't savor; i endured. don't get me wrong. failure is not a bad thing. and neither is endurance. failure, when viewed correctly, is simply a stepping stone forward. and endurance is always good, especially when you're in a desperate situation.
but i had chosen this fast, longed for it and anticipated it. yet in the moment, i could not savor the sweetness of communion. it was definitely humbling.
it is okay, though... more than okay, really. i received a reminder of my own frailty, of my tendency to talk more than i've experienced. i also received a greater measure of patience for others when they end early because i've been reminded that at the most basic gut-level, fasting is hard and not at all fun. best of all, Jesus was still delighted with my fast, honored by the sacrifice. yet he still invites me deeper, invites me to place of savoring him rather than hungering for food. my appetite whetted, i will keep leaning into this no-fun, hard discipline because on the other side (somewhere) i know must be bliss.
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