Fasting

Think Lent, think fasting. It doesn’t matter how many other things you do at Lent, “giving up” something is pretty much how folks think about this christian season.

Do you fast? Fasting usually is about food, and not eating as much, or any at all, for a certain time period. In recent years, though, fasting is a synonym for giving up anything. Some people call intentionally not watching TV “fasting from television.” Others fast from social media (then why are you reading this?). There’s fasting from certain kinds of thinking. You can fast from griping, or complaining about other people’s driving, or fast from pure hatefulness. You name it, you can separate yourself from it by fasting.

You can fast from being a news junkie. You can fast from being mean to people. You can fast from staying up late. You can fast from being lazy.

Fasting is a discipline: it’s difficult. It takes attention. What makes it difficult is that so many of the things that we need or want to give up are part and parcel of who we are.

I have a friend who told me he was going to give up complaining about everything. He was successful. It was such a hard thing, though, that he thought about it all the time. As we discussed this, I suggested that every time he considered his complaining, he might not waste the moment but offer his thought as a prayer.

Fasting in and of itself can be good for us, but during Lent, whatever we do should be moving us closer to God. Fasting from the dark side of our psyche can be such a struggle that we need God to make it possible.  That is sort of the point: not just to give up something, but to use that something as a trigger to remind us that God is present.

In Centering Prayer, we use a word or phrase to bring us back into the presence of God called prayer. We don’t think about the meaning of the word: it’s just a tool to tap us on the shoulder and remind us that we are supposed to be focused on God. Fasting does the same thing: when we realize, “Hey, I’m not supposed to be drinking a soda right now!” we are then to consider why we gave up soda in the first place, which is to have this moment and turn it over to God.

It’s easy to forget that the early Church recalled Jesus in the wilderness before his public ministry began and based Lent somewhat on that. Taking 40 days (not counting Sundays, which are always feast days that remind us of the resurrection, a day of celebration) to fast from spiritual laziness usually enhances our faith journey. Keeping it secret from others keeps us humble and makes it about God, not us.

Besides food, we can fast from anger; fast from selfishness (if we don’t see ourselves as selfish, though, we’ll miss a lot of opportunities here!); fast from ignoring the hungry and poor, (go buy some food to donate, then do so). I could go on, but the best thing I’ve seen about this recently is from Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber and the House for All Saints and Sinners’  list of 40 things to do to keep Lent holy:

http://www.nadiabolzweber.com/sermons/40-ideas-for-keeping-lent-holy-2.htm

It is a helpful practice to put a sign somewhere in our house or work (or both) to help us remember. I call these my “external hard drives” that help me be present for Lent daily. My wife, Renae, taught me this with her scriptures written on paper and taped to the bathroom mirror for her to use during each day to call her to time before God.

Fasting: it’s more than giving up. It’s an act of remembrance and prayer.

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About jamiebrame

Greetings, fellow earthlings. I'm the retired Program Director at Christmount, the national retreat, camp, and conference center of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), in Black Mountain, NC. From September 2019 through October, 2020, I served Timberlake Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, VA, as interim minister. After taking more than a year off, First Christian Church (DoC), Wilson, NC, offered me the position of Interim Minister, beginning May 10, 2022. Originally from Eden, NC, I graduated from John Motley Morehead High School, earned a BA in Religion and Philosophy at Atlantic Christian College (now Barton College), and eked out a Master of Divinity from the Divinity School at Duke University. I served, in various positions, churches (part time and full time) in North Carolina and Georgia, and have lived in Black Mountain, NC, since 1989. I married Renae in 1992 (she refers to these years as "looooooooooong" years. I've spent the past 50 years or so trying to practice Christian contemplative prayer with some touches of Zen meditation to help the journey along. Married to a wife who is much holier than I am, I am fortunate to learn from her daily about how to do this thing called spirituality. Being an ordained minister doesn't make me holy (but occasionally, as you'll read, a little sanctimonious, so forgive me in advance!); but I hope that I put my education to good use. I'd love to be considered a spiritual teacher, but I know myself too well to claim that. While I do a bit of teaching, I think the best teaching we do is when we remain silent (the old desert abba said something like, "if you won't learn from my silence, you won't learn from my talking"). But silence shouldn't turn into quietism, and we do have to speak out and act for justice and fairness and equality for all. I frequently ask myself the question, "Does it matter?" about the major - and minor - issues of the day. What I think matters: love for God, equality, fairness, loving our neighbor, feeding hungry people, housing homeless ones, clothing naked ones, and especially caring for children; basically, caring for those who have some trouble caring for themselves. AND our relationship with God. What doesn't matter: what you think of me. I'm not very Christ-like. You won't hear me talking about all the things I do for others, or all the things I do for God - I was taught that It's not about me, and using good works to get attention for myself isn't what Christian faith is about - look up "narcissism" on Google. I'm not sure Jesus thinks it matters much that I am like him or not, but I do. The old story from the rabbis is probably apropo: when I am hauled up before God at the end of time, God isn't going to ask me why I wasn't more like someone else: I will be asked why I wasn't more like me. The rabbis tell the story better. I'm still a work in progress, as Renae will attest to. Finally, I just hope that something you read here will make you think. Use what you can, ignore the rest. Go read some of the desert saints. Read the classics. Take care of people, never point to yourself, and don't follow me: I'm just hoping to be one more signpost to God. And as one friend reminded me the week before I left Christmount, "It matters." Oh, and my favorite color is probably blue, and I love cats, and I love my wife's music. I don't like beets.
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