Day 31 of my fast and I feasted. J-M brought home some really delicious grapes last night, crunchy and sweet. I was good and waited till morning and then I ate almost all of them, a whole bag’s worth. Then I had a giant bowl of Mini Wheats, which he’d also bought last night and I was also thrilled to eat this morning. But I felt stuffed and all through lunch too. I don’t like this feeling anymore. It used to be a common occurrence. The fast has shown me that being over-full is worse than hunger pangs (and lasts longer and has a lot of unnecessary guilt associated with it). I was actually looking forward to that hungry place I reach every night now. But in the afternoon, J-M reminded me that the pastors families were invited to a BBQ potluck put on by one of the small groups from our church.
“But I can’t eat!” I whined.
“Don’t eat Friday, then” he said.
“But I wasn’t eating Friday anyway because I was reserving Thursday for my Women’s Ministry Team Appreciation Dinner!”
Then he didn’t say anything.
This is why I’m glad the fast will be over in just nine days.
No more navigating social functions. No more bending the rules, which confuses the issue for me. I thought I’d just stick to the fast for the remaining eight days, but Mallory has her Grade 8 graduation banquet and John-Mark, his birthday. I’m thinking that for the rest of this fast I may be doing a lot of eating. Eating rhymes with cheating.
Let’s talk about this morning instead. If you have never before met God in the morning, gone outside and had praise and worship service with the birds, if you have never embraced the solitude that feels like time stands still, if you’ve never had an audience with your Heavenly Father with no one and nothing else competing for your attention and Him ready to meet you, if you haven’t felt the sun rays roll over you like a celestial embrace, you are missing out on one of the most inspiring times to commune with our Creator. C’mon, if you get up tomorrow morning, I will share him with you. You won’t regret it.
This morning I talked to God about how I love to write and how I love to send out into cyberspace the words that he gives me. I told him how I love to visit my friends and be available day-by-day to those who need it. I thanked him for the opportunities he’s given me whether they’re about to end or continue on indefinitely. I thanked him for my family (I tell them and God all the time I can’t believe they really exist). I thanked him for you. Yes, you. I have so many wonderful, encouraging people in my life and the fact that you show up, that you’re reading this right now, it makes me thankful enough to get teary-eyed.
Then I read 2 Corinthians 3 in The Message. In this passage, Paul is writing to the church at Corinth saying that the people there are the “letter of endorsement” or success of his ministry, having visibly changed hearts because of Christ’s work in their lives.
Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you. Christ himself wrote it – not with ink, but with God’s living Spirit; not chiseled in stone, but carved into human lives…
I love that. Paul has nothing to prove, no need to defend his call, because Christ is doing the work of changing hearts.
And you know what? I want to be a letter–better yet, a book–written by Christ himself. Whether by my words or my actions, I want to demonstrate the glory of God and the love of Christ in my life. Every decision, every turn in the road, every idea, every encounter with someone a new page about God’s faithfulness. The outline would look like this:
Chapter 1 – God is faithful
Chapter 2 – The Lord can be trusted
Chapter 3 – God provides
Chapter 4 – He will see you through
Chapter 5 – The Father knows what you need
Chapter 6 – God is still faithful
Chapter 7 – The Lord is watching over you
Chapter 8 – He cares for you
Chapter 9 – God knows you and loves you
Chapter 10 – Our Father calls to you
Chapter 11 – The Lord will see you through
Chapter 12 – God saw what you ate today, but guess what, he’s still faithful even when you’re not