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Posts Tagged ‘fasting’

Here was the plan: Jesus would come to Earth and do his best to explain/demonstrate the whole Spirit thing and then sacrifice himself to wrap up and seal the covenant. Promised result: the eyes of our hearts would be opened wide and we could live likewise. Actual result: we’re still discussing it.

Ephesians 5:25b, 27
. . . Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy. . . and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.

Here’s another word picture for all of this: the high rise window washer who puts himself in great danger to clean the windows so that light can be seen both in and out. But then we shut the drapes.

I have everything I need to enter the story life that God intends. I have the body, the circumstances, the family, the nation, the neighborhood, the friends, the talents, the washed windows . . . (all the layers of my drapes are on the inside of the windows).

The light is there. I made covenant with Christ thirty years ago. I am in the Body. I am loved by God.

During this time of fasting, I am slowly opening my drapes, one by one.

While the light of God might be more like the sun, shining brightly with heat and energy everywhere, the Holy Spirit is radiant and glows, permeating the dark spaces with steady but gentle light.

There is radiance and there is holiness within me. Like the last day of school before summer vacation, I want to open the doors and allow it all to pour out.

(FD 10)

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This phrase about grieving the Holy Spirit has always jumped out at me. Reverend Spurgeon said, back in 1859, that causing grief touches even the hardest hearts. But today, for the first time, I linked the cause directly to my mouth.

Ephesians 4:29-30a
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God . . .

This revelation really clenches it for me: I must include “unconscious talking” into my fast.

I can just imagine the Holy Spirit within me, covering ears and thinking, “I can’t believe she really said that!” And then, crying. Doesn’t crying go along with grief?

Sometimes, there is anger too, and disappointment. There is helplessness in grief, because there isn’t much one can do to change the situation. And with grief, there is pain.

When a person is sorrowing, it is because of loss. And in that loss, there is love. But it’s love that is cut off, stopped, quenched, unresolved, blocked. . . for whatever reason.

So, whenever I speak out-of-hand, or gossip, or judge, there is a loss that happens there too. I am inching further away from my center where the Holy Spirit dwells. And the Holy Spirit is calling, reaching out to me, warning me, crying for me, whispering to me, but I am too focused on the outpouring.

Unlike fasting from food, which is relatively easy since the body is pretty good about reminding me about three to four times a day, “Hey, didn’t you forget something? Food! I need food!” But to fast from blabbing is more difficult. There won’t be any help for this one. It will be about mindfulness. It will be about “practicing the presence” of God. It will be about thinking before I speak. It will be about slowing down. It will be about listening.

And maybe, just maybe, if I can submit to this discipline, even for a short while, I will hear the angels singing after all.

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Here’s an idea: every time I tell a lie, it does harm to the Body of Christ. That Body requires truth. And anything less diminishes it. Either I have a corporate corporeal responsibility or not. I’ve managed to minimalize the impact. It’s so big after all. Well, time to think again.

Ephesians 4:25
Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.

Another image that comes to mind is one of those psychology experiments in college where small electric shocks are given to someone else based on the subject’s (my) answers or failures (or whatever the testing might entail). If I could see or feel the impact on this “Body,” would I act differently? If I had a chart of the body and every time I sinned or lied or cheated, a red dot representing pain in some other region or area of the Body would light up. Would I stop?

I know that’s silly, but really, am I a unique part of this larger Body or not? And does my place in it make any difference?

Telling the truth is the hardest of all really. I lie with my lips and I lie in my mind. I lie to others (sometimes masked in halves or exaggeration) and I lie to myself.

Sometimes, I get another crazy picture in my head like I’m standing at the “pearly gates” and, as I have been forewarned [Romans 14:12], I begin to give an account of my life. When I get to the lies part of the list, It’s so long, I end up in some kind of purgatory (waiting tank) after all.

Have I placed ALL the lies under the covering of the blood sacrifice? Have I stopped telling them? Really?

I will probably never get very good at the “not telling lies” part. Some of this is my quick mouth and some of it is the way I think and blab at the same time. I sometimes don’t even “hear” something until I say it. This leaves on option for me: silence. Not speaking. Also difficult, but probably a better choice for the sake of the Body.

I am planning another fast. I do these on occasion but this time, it’s as a result of my previous days’ revelations about the superficiality of the “old self” and the power of sensuality to rule. I’m thinking that food and unrelenting appetite fit into the same drama (not just sexuality and violence). And today, I can add lies and too much talking into the mix. Can I fast from so much talking? Something to consider.

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Who wants to give up anything the body wants or needs? I’ve been investigating the importance of the body as the “Temple of the Holy Spirit” and yet, here is old Paul recommending celibacy as a way of walking out “self-control.” Harumph.

I Corinthians 7:1b
It is well [and by that I mean advantageous, expedient, profitable, and wholesome] for a man not to touch a woman [to cohabit with her] but to remain unmarried.
[Amplified]

This Pauline letter must be one of the main sources for the Catholic tradition of celibate priests. A few verses later, Paul even spells it out, “I wish that all men were like I myself am [in this matter of self-control]. But each has his own special gift from God, one of this kind and one of another.” [vs 7:7]

Is this a good thing? I know that fasting, another form of body denial has its place in devotion. It seems that as we deny the body sustenance, there is more time to look inward to the things of spirit. But this conversation is for those who choose these things, for those who choose to be celibate or choose to fast, or choose to deny themselves in other specific ways.

What about those who have no choice? What about the lonely men and women of this world who desperately want relationship and intimacy with another person? What of the couple who no longer have intimacy due to illness or boredom. What of the poor?

God promises a grace to those who are not in a position to choose. These promises can be seen readily in the beatitudes. They are promises of hope in the midst of great loss and deprivation. These were the people he chose to teach first, to reach first.

What happens for the rest of us who much choose seasons of deprivation? We get a taste, a glimpse of both poverty and grace in this arena.

But I want to remember that Paul also says that each person has his/her special gift from God. The key here is knowing what God wants of me. The point is hearing God’s voice, God’s plan for today, for now. Once, God called me to a long fast and I was so deaf, He made bread taste like garbage before I got the message.

Choosing self-denial for the mere sake of it does nothing special. These times must be part of the true call.

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Matthew 6:17-18
But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to men that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Facing the challenge of walking with a child, even a teenager, through the tests and doctor visits and more tests and more doctor visits searching for answers, takes everything and more. It is the parents who must be strong for the sake of the child, who must carry hope like a light in a very dark place, who must model faith. This is the “unknown” time when no one knows for sure what is causing the symptoms. There are theories and suspicions, there are whispered conversations in the hall, and there are scrutinizing questions. But the answers remain elusive. And so we keep going. We keep searching.

This is a faith building time. I know it. But I also know I need a way to focus that faith on the circumstances at hand without anxiety. And so, I choose the fast. May this small gesture propel me into the “secret place.”

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