I’ve agreed to fast today–along with fellow praying friends. But I don’t want to, not at all. Although I’ve just gone through one of the best desperate times of my life and although I’ve stated and written that I always want something in my life that keeps me “on my knees” and desperate for what only you can provide, I’m realizing with a day of fasting ahead that this may not be as true as I’ve said.
Forgive me. But I’m a little afraid to put aside my desires (for food, is all this time. And those desires aren’t all that great. At least, not for meals. It’s only snacks I ever miss); I’m worried about choosing to become desperate, dependent on you.
Though I know I’ll be fine–physically–for one silly day without food. And though I know you are faithful and that this practice of fasting is meant to remind me of your faith, something like a spiritual PTSD is creeping up. I’ve enjoyed this past little bit of being able to look back on how you carried us through the ridiculous financial stresses. I’ve enjoyed living in the full hope and experience that you do–you are–providing. Not enough to wipe away every last morsel of debt yet (how long, Lord? ha!). But that we can pay bills. Mostly. That I no longer face each and every month wondering how the mortgage will get paid.
Forgive me–not for the hope–but because I’m realizing as I face this fast that what has made me feel more secure is our “own” ability to earn money again. It must be it, if I’m worried to go without food, if facing intentional desperation has me nervous.
Ack. I dunno. Maybe it’s the hunger talking. But forgive me for my bad attitude about how I face the disciplines. Show me today–once again–how you bless through desperation, how you prove faithful time and again even to weird wandering, me’s of little faith.