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About the author: Jason is the director of worship arts at ZPC. He and his wife, Stephanie, have four children, June, Rose, Ford, and Rush. Songwriting, whistling, rabbit trail conversations, reading the Bible or good fictions, and mushroom hunting are among his many interests.

In this season of Lent, I have been challenged by the spiritual discipline of fasting. However, as much as I would like to think it was a strictly spiritual discipline, I would argue that it is also, if not more, a physically painful discipline. Perhaps the same kind of pain one might endure in injuring a limb in a strenuous sport but certainly one in the same as when the body is telling you that something is wrong. It becomes obvious that depriving yourself of a meal or three for the sake of growing more aware of ones need for God bears a weight of great discomfort and difficulty. The discomfort is your stomach reminding you that you missed a meal and need to eat. The difficulty is that you are certainly able to eat food but you are making a decision not to, even when it is easily in reach.

So why do I do this? What have I learned about myself or God in this season of fasting? Leaning into the difficulty and discomfort of this discipline has made me increasingly aware of my dependence on food, for the good of my body or for the bad of my addiction to fighting off discomfort. Before I embarked on this journey, I wondered about these discomforts and what it might benefit my relationship with God: my need for him, my hope in his providence, and certainly his feelings about this particular practice. And while there might be many benefits for the picking, one I have tried to consider anew is that while I await my next meal, perhaps I could train my whole self to wait for the Lord. The greatest waiting I am currently journeying for is the Day of the Lord, one which is entangled in the Revelation narrative of Jesus returning to make all things new.

Prayer

Lord, in our quiet or busy mornings, during the length of our laborious days, and as we gather to rest in our evenings, may we find that our time has been invaded by your presence, whether in great or small amount. If great, may we bask in the fullness of your providence and give thanks. If small, may we seek your forgiveness for missing out and beckon toward you. May our lives be lived for the glory of you, O God.
For the Father, in the Son, by the Holy Spirit,
Amen. 

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