All too often, I hear myself telling God about how things look like they are going to be tight, that I don't know if things will stretch far enough, that He is going to have to cover a need if He wants me to do X. Then, I stop, look around the house, and sheepishly take my worries back as I start to thank Him for everything He has already provided. I mean, really. We have a home. Food in the fridge and in the pantry. A washer and dryer. Furniture to sit on; a bed to sleep on. Indoor plumbing. Safe drinking water. Central air and heating.
How rich are we?
I once heard someone say something along the lines of, "If you only had tomorrow the things you thanked God for today, what would you have left?"
Yeah, I started listing everything.
You've all heard the lecture about taking our lifestyles for granted when so many have so little. I don't mean to add this post to the ranks of white-middle-class-guilt-inducing literature. We don't have to feel guilty. But we should definitely feel grateful. And then we should act gratefully.
If we're grateful, then we're not entitled.
If we're not entitled, then we can give it up (or give it away).
But we don't like to give things up. Think, for example, of the last time you heard fasting mentioned as something a modern American should do. Can you think of a time? Even a time in church?
I used to fast more often. I would take a day a week, even, when I had something that needed some extra praying. It was a strange experience, almost enjoyable, once I stopped thinking about all the things I couldn't eat and just started using that time to focus on my prayer. (I did not know how all-pervasive food was to my thought life until I started doing this. It was unnerving.) The experience was freeing, in a sense, from my normal concerns; it proved to me that I could ignore this urge for a while, that it was not my master.
This month, I've been fasting from desserts and other highly-sugared edibles. Why? Well, the short answer is, "Because I didn't want to."
Note: The moment you tell God that you are not willing to give something up, know that that item is going, and going soon.
Thankfully, He brought me to the point of giving up my sweets through gently working in my soul, rather than creating a medical crisis necessitating such actions. He could have done it that way, but maybe He knew I would whine a lot less if He brought me to it this way.
Today, I have eight days left in the month. I have passed on birthday cake and s'mores. I have resisted doughnut holes and caramel cake. I've looked the other way while Preston ate ice cream or as I walked through the checkout aisle in the grocery store. And, yes, I have set a few select items by in the cupboard or freezer until October 1.
But I have been free.
I have had (almost) a month when I could say no to that sweet something calling my name. I have walked away from dessert and realized that I didn't feel hugely disappointed or like I had missed out greatly. I have not worshiped a brownie in weeks by putting enjoying it ahead of my health or my goals or of God's desires for my life.
I conceived of the goal as a weight-loss maneuver, but it has become a spiritual journey.
Oh, the temptation is there: if not to eat something sweet, then at least to fantasize about what I will eat as soon as the thirty days are past. But to know that God has given us these foods, that they are good, and that they are not my master, that is the real treasure; and, oh, it is sweet.
