Exchanged Living

Fasting Tips

These tips were posted on Asbury's Reader to help out as we begin the Lenten Fast today:

story immersion practice: fasting

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the desert, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and at the end of them he was hungry.  Luke 4:1-2  

Some say fasting leads us to the wilderness. Others claim fasting is the wilderness itself. Regardless, fasting can take us to a place of God-awareness leading to self-awareness.  Fasting ignites a furnace of transformation, raising our prayer life by an exponential factor.  Fasting is difficult, a place of struggling with God and self. It pushes all our buttons and reveals all our weaknesses. Progress is hard to measure and often only discernable in hindsight. The key is one’s orientation with the practice. 

Fasting must not be reduced to, “what I’m giving up for Lent.”

Fasting leads to the secret place of feasting on “every word that comes from the mouth of God,” and the public place of kingdom righteousness in the streets. “I have food that you know nothing about,” says Jesus to his disciples. “My food is to do the will of him who sent me.” True fasting locates us “in Christ” in the wilderness where he trains us in his unique way of “loving mercy, doing justly and walking humbly with God.” (see Micah 6:8) The practice of fasting narrates us into the story in a profoundly experiential way. As Jesus journeyed from the blessing of baptism to the challenges of the wilderness so do we.

Throughout centuries of Christian pilgrimage, the season of Lent has come to be associated with a time of intense self-examination, confession and repentance. Across ages of Christian Tradition, Lent has become synonymous with one practice: fasting. A practice of self denial, fasting cultivates appetite for God by denying appetite for things of the world. A form of voluntary poverty, fasting identifies us with the poor and marginal, revealing our misplaced treasure and rerouting the longing of our hearts. 

The Triune God has created all things and called them good. He bids us to receive his good gifts with thanksgiving. But he also calls us to fast and to practice self-control. Christians have honored this two-fold truth by celebrating alternating seasons of fasting and feasting in the Church year. The fifty-day feast of Easter is preceded by the forty-day fast of Lent. But fasting is often ignored in our Western culture. Here are some suggestions—not rules—for different ways to fast. Fasting is both taking something out of our lives, and replacing it with something else. Find ways for God to more fully saturate your life; partake more fully of the means of grace. Fasting is both a personal and a corporate discipline; find accountability in community.

practical guidance for fasting

• Disobey your thirst. One purpose of fasting is to teach us self-control. “People are slaves to whatever masters them” (2 Peter 2:19). Intentionally abstaining from our cravings demonstrates that Jesus, not our stomach, is our true Lord. It also identifies with the billions throughout the world who are unable to satisfy their every desire.  

• Fast on Wednesday and Friday. From the first century, Christians have set these days apart for fasting. John Wesley desired the Methodists to keep these fasts each week. At minimum, try and fast for a 24 hour period once per week. Try eating the evening meal on Tuesday and not eating again until the evening meal on Wednesday. Drink water or juice through the day.

• Fast from food. Total abstention from food (and sometimes drink) is the primary Biblical model of fasting.

• Fast from meat. Throughout history, meat has been the food of the wealthy.  The Church has traditionally suggested abstaining from this delicacy during periods of fasting.  Sometimes fasting from dairy products has also been encouraged.  

• Fast from dessert. Rich and sweet desserts are rare in the world; only in Western culture are they commonplace. 

• Fast from coffee, soda, etc. Examine how much of your diet is given to unnecessary trifles. Prove in your actions, “God, I love you more than coffee.”  

• Fast from entertainment. Most entertainment is not by nature evil, but it is superfluous. 

            •  Are you addicted to a certain television show?

            •  Do you need that new DVD or CD?

            •  Do you spend more time watching movies than in prayer?

            •  How central are computer games to your lifestyle?

            •  Is internet social networking taking the place of face to face community?

•  Attend the Eucharist regularly. Let the body and blood of Christ replace your breakfast or lunch. Feast on him.

•  Let the money you may save fasting from food or entertainment be given to the poor. This is the kind of fast God delights in (Isa. 58:7).  

• Spend more time in prayer and Bible study. Feast on the Word of God.  

• Spend time with family or friends that is centered around prayer or service rather than entertainment. Spend a weekend at a homeless shelter rather than at the movies.

 

“Everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected, provided it is received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by God’s word and by prayer” (1 Tim. 4:4-5). But a rhythm of fasting and feasting will enrich us spiritually and enable us to encounter God more fully. Forsaking goods for a period of time makes them all the more significant during times of feasting.

Sharing someone else's testimony...

Last night, I had the great joy of being a part of my best friend T's baptismal service. T has been a believer for about 11 years, but had never taken the step of being baptized to mark his faith in the gospel. He was baptized at Sojourn Community Church, a church that is doing a lot of things well from what I've seen. They did a number of things I really liked in the service, weaving liturgical readings throughout the worship set, baptizing "together" (meaning they as a congregation baptized aloud, "in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit"), and the testimonial readings before the baptisms...

At first, it kinda of sounded weird to me; having some one else tell someone else's story almost seemed to be in conflict with the idea of baptism (at least from its public-identification stand point). Shouldn't the person being baptized tell their story? But as I began to think about it, the symbolic picture of someone re-telling another's testimony began to speak to me.

Think about it: when we watch someone be baptized, we see a number of things. We see a picture of washing: an outward symbol of cleansing and renewal. We see a picture of death, burial, and resurrection--both the person as they are baptized into Christ (a la Romans 6 ), and a picture of every believer's story and experience in Christ. And that's where this public display becomes a unifier/community builder. When we see someone baptized, we in essence see part of our own story. We see a person identifying themselves with the saving, redeeming work of the passion, but we also see our history within the act. It brings the past into the present as a reminder, a remembrance, even a re-presentation of our own story within the faith. That unifies us with the person being baptized because we too have been crucified with Christ; we too were baptized and we too raised to walk in the newness of life. Their testimony is a part of my testimony--it becomes "ours".

Someone else, then, recounting their story of salvation also carries with it a part of their own story. Some of the details are different, but the power of the cross is the same. And so when I read T's testimony, I heard part of my own, and through that I not only saw T's testament of the grace of Jesus, but could join him in that cry because that testimony was mine as well. I, too, crossed from death to life only by the gift of God, the life of the Son, and the power of the Spirit.

Kinda cool, eh?

Other Thoughts, part two

Thanks to the gracious comments from the past post. It's great to know people read and have opinions about the garble I sometime regurgitate on this page.

The second part of the previous post has to do with living a life of holiness. This is a weird confessional point for me, but here it goes:

It's been a long time since I've taken living a life of holiness seriously.

"What, what?" you may be saying..."but aren't you a pastor? Isn't it your job to be holy?" Well, yes and no. It's my job to do the things Hope Church asks of me, and yes, one thing they ask (or rather, is an unspoken must of the job) is a holy life. But being holy isn't my job; it's my calling. Just like the rest of you followers of Jesus out there, I'm part of a "chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession," that I may "proclaim the excellencies of Him who called (me) out of darkness and into His marvelous light." (1 Peter 2:9-10)

I take issue with the holiness-is-your-job idea because it sanctions holiness to certain professions and out of the all-encompassing call of the believer to a life as a person set apart by the work and person of Jesus Christ. But that's not where this post takes root...

You see, I grew up in a church and house that served me with a great moral core. My parents raised us within a sphere of Christian values, and the church we went to supported, instilled and ingrained (and even enforced) these values into my social/cultural identity. But at some point, I believed a lie that I think a lot of people can fall into: I equated "living a holy life" with this moral code.

Now very few of these instructions for life are ill-advised or non-biblical; they find their roots in the faith, and still largely inform the ways I make decisions today--so don't take this as a bashing of my parents or the church I went to back then. I am grateful everyday for the grace those principals guided me into. However, I grew into thinking that if I kept this sometimes long list of do's and do not's, then I would be living a good, even a holy life. Part of this mentality is to set up kids with a moral tide that guides them to Christ.  Part of it is to set up fences that keep often foolish kids like me from making dumb and harmful decisions. Part of it even stems into our history, as Christians set up social systems that set them apart from the world they lived in so that a contrast would be seen in their gatherings (an artifical difference, might I add). For me though, this line of thinking brought great pride to me in keeping the rules well and great guilt and shame to me in the areas where I failed.

Now, when I was in college, I learned a good deal about the Scriptures, really becoming more of a disciple of Christ and less of a believer-by-culture-and-not-personal-faith. (I think i hyphenate too much. Note to self: stop it.) One of the topics of the faith I spent a lot of time in grace; and when you grow up in a faith that is governed primarily by rules, one of the topics I began to look at was legalism. You know, the idea that one can become so consumed by rule keeping that you actually miss the gospel--that "the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death" (Romans 8:2), that it is for freedom that Christ set us free, that we're no longer under law, but under grace, etc... Now, for someone that's been bogged down by the weight of their checklist, this grace becomes intoxicatingly attractive. One might say that I went grace-crazy, and for good reason: there is no more powerful force in the world than the uninhibited grace of God.

Sadly, for me, this ended a long-time concern I had with holy living, primarily because I equated no check list with no concern for holy living. I was excited to no longer bear the burden of creating a righteousness for myself, but I did what I'd guess a lot of people do who get that first taste of grace in their mouth: I quit worring about holiness. (I say I guess I'm not the first to do this because Paul warns about this kind of reaction with his two interrogating questions in Romans 6. I should read closer.) Now, I had both outright rebellion and dumb-ery during this phase and some amazing revelation and growth, which is weird. Freedom in Christ became a banner I flew far more than I understood, and I still had this underlying core I drew from for both guidance and correction that I left alone in the name of freedom for the most part, almost taking the attitudde that holiness will happen eventually, but I need not concern myself.  Needless to say, I was a walking wreck most of the time. 

I think my bigger issues with living a life of holiness (literally a life "in the state of set apart-ness") came down to two things: one, a fear of legalism, and two, a pride in being free. I heard a long time ago that a fear of legalism is the biggest enemy of holy living, and it makes a lot of sense. Honestly, striving to be free from rules, or being ruled by rules, naturally puts you at odds with all commandment, even God's.  It stems from autonomy, which can thwart the life of dependance we see in the Vine/branch metaphor Christ give His disciples to help them understand the design of a life of faith, which is naturally a holy life. Couple that with a pride in freedom, which twists the work of Christ in death and resurrection into a trophy I hold above my head and boast in, as if it was wrought by my own hands... wow...how I'm not dead from multiple lighting bolt strikes is solely a picture of undeserved mercy...thank you, Jesus!

So as I've come face to face with these ugly truths about my own heart and attitudes, I've had to ask the Father to teach me about holiness all over again; to divorce it in my mind from checklist spirituality while at the same time wedding it to my desires and drive, as it is something that He's made me for. I do believe that holiness is something that is to be natural for believers, as natural as fruit should be to an abiding branch.  It is not something I muster from my own efforts or some image created my my good deeds--it is the gift of God, something I cannot do of myself.

Part of my rethinking of (and rebirth into) holiness has come through thinking of God, the Father, Spirit, and Son, as the source of my holiness. Not to confuse this with Him being the source of my righteousness before Him, I'll draw this distintion through definition: my holiness is rooted in the act of God setting me apart; in the ways He sets me apart for His uses, I am holy. The items in the temple of the people of Israel were set apart for temple use from the point of design. They were made for use in sacred space, and were set apart for that use. They were treated differently because of that design and designation. They were also marked as set apart for divine purpose through their positioning. Priests positioned items in holy places, and because of that positioning, they became holy items, even if sometimes they had to be ceremonially cleansed before they could be set apart for that purpose. 

For those who are in Christ, these parallels should quicken your heart. We have been designed for use by God, "created in Christ Jesus for good works" (Ephesians 2:10). He made us new creations, and not for our own sakes (though we desperately needed it and greatly benefit from it), but for use in His purposes. We were set apart by design as that chosen race, that royal priesthood--and why, but to proclaim the excellencies of Him who called us out of darkness and into His marvelous light. We were cleansed by the redemptive covenant blood of Jesus Christ, and brought into the courts of God by Jesus, our High Priest. His Spirit in us guides us into holiness as He guides us into all truth, teaching us and showing us the path God has marked out for our lives.

So holy living becomes more about offering myself for use by God, for God, than it does my actions, though my actions are governed by my choices to obey his direction. That holiness is something I can rest in because it's completely by His doing. I didn't cleanse myself, nor did I bring myself to God; instead, He came and reconciled me to Himself. It centers in His work and my positioning to be involved in it. He sets us apart for use and we then choose to place our lives and hearts in His hands to be use.

I've had this hunger for holiness bubble up in the past couple weeks that I've not had for a long time. A hunger to be used as He's designed me to be used. It's weird...I didn't know I wasn't after it until that hunger bubbled up; it wasn't that I was unholy in all things--just that I started seeing how being set apart was an action God intended for my life for a reason, and I just starting thinking and praying---God, whatever you've done this for, I don't want to miss it. I don't want to not be what you've made me and set me apart to be. And I just started praying, and this hunger for holiness just started growing. And it's so good to be hungry for it, actively, again, and not driven to it because I fear I'm not holy, because I am, and I want to be too.

OK. That whole rant may not make sense. I blame the homework I'm not doing right now. I need to be set apart for homework now, so I'm out.

Oh, and keep praying for the people of South Louisiana. There are people who will be without power for weeks, and food is running out and there's no where to go if grocery stores don't have food (or power to get and keep food). Things are getting more desperate for many.   
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Listening to: Radiohead - All I Need

The Raccoon Master

This morning, as I was leaving the house, I found a trash bag partially hanging out of one of our trash cans. What was hanging out of the can was shredded to pieces--something was trying to get into our trash.  Now, it could have been our dog, but I know it wasn't. You know how? Because yesterday I found his food bag shredded up in the yard, and he had been sleeping inside. We have a problem. A raccoon problem.

Now this is not necessarily bad news around our house. I have a few enthusiastic roommates with shotguns, so I'm sure that the death will be brought to raccoons very soon. We've had raccoons before, and David and Andrew baited them in with left overs a few times, then dropped the hammer on them. Troy woke up to shotgun blasts outside his window, which is always comforting at 12:30 at night. (congrats to Troy and Lindsay, btw--they got engaged last week).  The tragedy of this raccoon infestation is two-fold though: one, our dog never gets to eat his own food, and two, I've somehow become the sole provider for a family of raccoons. Lord knows I want a dog that eats and I don't want raccoons living off my tab.

As I was running this morning, I was reminded of a passage I was reading in The Voice's translation of Romans (The Voice's project is quite amazing in my opinion, and it great reading for people who are wanting to catch the narrative feel of the Scriptures, plus Chris Seay, the pastor spearheading this project, is Robbie Seay's brother--and I love some Robbie Seay). In Romans 7:14-25, as Paul recounts his struggle with the work or power of sin, he comments that "sin is always closer than you realize." Kinda like raccoons to my trash cans, it's only in the aftermath of sin that I sometimes realize how near to me it is. It's near enough to get at the very things I don't want it to touch.

In Genesis, there is a story of two brothers, Cain and Abel, who were bringing offering to give before the Lord. Cain, who was a farmer, brought a portion of his crops. Abel, who was a shepherd, brought a sacrifice from the first born of his flocks. God was pleased with Abel's sacrifice, but had no regard for Cain's, which made Cain pretty angry and upset. God warns Cain about his anger, saying

...sin is crouching at the door; and it's desire is for you, but you must master it.
(Genesis 4:7)

In both cases, this personification of sin frames it as a force that is near, almost too near for us to be comfortable. Sin also poses a threat--its desire is for us. That's kinda creepy in a way, but it's important to have a sober realization about the nature of sin and our relationship with it. Peter describes Satan as a lion "seeking someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8), so this idea of being watched, even hunted, echoes through the scriptures, and it places us in the position of prey, or victim.

Now, don't misinterpret me--I don't think that when I sin, I am not to blame--just because I'm being hunted, so to speak, doesn't mean my getting caught up in sin is not a result of my own choices. I'm a victim of my own choices, namely my choice to sin. But sin is kind of like these raccoons; it waits around for me to leave things unwatched, unattended, or just to be hand fed. All it wants is to consume whatever it wants and leave me to deal with the mess. And the thing is, we all deal with the mess, and usually the mess makes more mess, and more mess for others, not just ourselves.

God tells Cain to master sin, or to gain control over it before it gains control over him. He didn't, to Abel's demise. Some would argue that Cain couldn't overcome sin because he was fallen, just like the rest of us. Well, that's true in a sense--he was fallen, and sin was inherently tied to his nature on some level, but God would not have told him to get the upper hand on the sin if he couldn't. But how? Even Paul, in this Romans passage, wrestles with doing what he doesn't want to do, or not doing what he's supposed to do, even what he desires to do. He asks, "Who will set me free from the body of this death?" The answer Paul comes to is found in the person of Jesus Christ, and the giving of His spirit to us.

In the case of Cain, Cain had a choice: to act on the emotions he felt towards his brother, and towards God, or to look to God for the way out. God, in love, tells Cain to watch out for sin, that it wanted him, but he tells Cain that because He wanted Cain, too. He wanted Cain's obedience, his love, enough to warn Cain about the dangers around him. This warning from God was never meant to do anything but pull Cain in closer to Himself.  Even from these early points, we hear and see a God who wants to redeem His people by drawing them away from what destroys and towards Himself, the one who can deliver and give life.

Turning to Paul's question, we find God both forgiving our trespasses and sins and reclaiming and redefining us (and our relationship to sin) through His Son. He settles the debt of sin for us through the cross of Jesus--then we are crucified, buried, and raised with Him so that we become something we weren't before. In our very nature, we become new, saints and priests and children of the most high God, and because of that, our relationship to God, and to sin, changes. We become co-heirs with Christ, who overcame sin and death--so we inherit the victory that is His because we are now hidden with Him.

To put that in raccoon terms, we were once wholly susceptible to having our stuff raided by raccoons, even to the point where we naturally chose to feed them all sorts of things we valued. But because of Jesus, we're now both aware that raccoons don't need to be eating our trash, and we are empowered to protect our trash cans from those vermin who wait to steal and devour whatever they can get at. It's like we're given shot guns, but more figuratively.  That's pretty awesome.

He gives us His spirit to help guide, teach, and direct us, and He gives us His promises and His victory over sin to enable us to master sin. Gaining control over the situation is impossible without Christ. Raccoons will eat your trash without Christ...well, you get my point...so we must remember that those who believe are never without Christ; we're in Christ and His victory over sin is now ours. We must choose to remain aware that sin is always closer than we think, and that it's desire is for us, but that through Christ and our dependence on and choosing of Him, we can overcome.

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Listening to: Jars of Clay - Love Song for a Savior