A Ramble about Fasting

Originally published as a Facebook Note May 2nd, 2009

I hate fasting.

I've never seen the usefulness of it. I remember a guy I knew a long time ago once telling me that he had tried to fast only to be reminded by his stomach that it was time to eat, and it got to the point, as he described it, that his hunger drowned out any spiritual thoughts or motives to the point where he just gave up and ate something so that he could clear his mind.

My experiences with fasting have generally been similar. I've tried fasting before. I actually went a whole week without eating anything. I wanted it to be for spiritual reasons, but in reality it was more to see whether or not I could do it. I did, and then promptly got diarrhea with the first meal I had after the week was up. In spite of my protestations to the contrary, the reality was that the only benefit it brought me was a bit of weight loss; hardly spiritual in nature.

In many ways, I've been on forced fasts this past week. I've been eating less than I usually do, by necessity, I've been getting less sleep than I probably need, I've not had any real alone time for four days, and there are other little assaults on my physical comfort as well that just... prick, a little here, and a little there. In short, I've been miserable. And the cherry on top of this cake is that I seem to be coming down with the flu as well (never mind the asthma and chest congestion I'm still fighting from months ago).

Yesterday or the day before, I think it was the day before, the conversation between God and Satan came to my mind from the book of Job. In it, Satan has pretty much ruined Job's life and destroyed everything he loves and holds dear, and Job's still praising God. So, Satan says this, "Skin for skin! A man will give up everything he has to save his life. But reach out and take away his health, and he will surely curse you to your face!" Truth is, while I don't recall Job ever cursing God to His face, he did get a lot more whiny after that and asking for explanations.

We don't like to admit it, at least I don't, but Satan's analysis of the human response was, in most cases, spot on. No one ever accused Satan of being an idiot, or unobservant; psychotic perhaps, but definitely not an idiot. We seem to be willing to part with quite a bit, but when it touches our physical comfort, that's when things really get personal.

I think that's the biggest lesson for me in all of this. Does my physical comfort and well being dictate the terms of my relationship with God? I've written before about having to die in order to be resurrected, ironically, the body always seems to be the last thing in which I--and probably not just me--am willing to commit to the cross. I always use the excuse of needing a clear head, and not wanting to be distracted from communion with the Lord by being hungry, or having some unfulfilled physical need or urge. It makes sense to me in the moment.

The truth is that all too often I am ruled, not by the spirit, but by my stomach, and like the proverbial "momma", when it ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. And this is also the place where it seems unclean things like to attack the hardest, because they know it's a sure fire weak point.

The truth is that you can't serve two masters, and often we try. The body has it's needs, and they must be cared for, but, as one Buddhist author whom I respect highly puts it, the body is like an injury or a wound. You must care for it very carefully, all the while treating it and helping it to heal. One doesn't indulge an injury or a wound in order to make it worse, but you do baby it just a little in order to help it get better. The truth is, you can't serve both God and your physical appetites. Either they become subject to the death of the cross, or they master you. There isn't any middle ground here.

I don't like this. I think it sucks, and I whine and complain just like Job when my body gets touched in any way. Thing is though, Jesus didn't, and He didn't use my excuses about needing a clear head to face temptation either. In fact, He refused to turn stones to bread when He hadn't eaten for forty days. Most people who reach that point are generally either delirious with hunger, or just plain dead. He went up against Satan himself in that state.

He didn't use those excuses when the crowds wouldn't give Him and His students any alone time either. His students asked Him, almost literally in the Greek, to blow them off and give Himself a break. He refused and ministered to them until each one of the thousands who came to Him was healed, and only then did He let them go. Today, I think He would be recommended to counseling for avoiding burnout.

And then there's the cross itself. Vicious scourgings, massive blood loss, total physical and emotional humiliation, and finally death, after having massive railroad size spikes driven through the nerves of his feet and wrists.

In many respects, Jesus fasted physically every day of His life even when He was eating and drinking. He didn't let His bodily appetites, though He had them like everyone else, control Him or what He did, and I am sure there are times when His body screamed at Him and made Him dizzy enough to collapse. But His body was made subject to His cross long before he was nailed to it, like every other aspect of His life.

I don't like fasting, but then I'm sure He didn't either. I'm fairly certain the cross was no fun at all. I write a lot here about submitting to death and letting everything go, and my physical appetites and being needs to be a part of that, and because it's so intrinsically tied to my self it becomes that much harder to let go of, especially when it's little things that keep gnawing at you. But He did it. And, He asks us to pick up our crosses and follow Him. Man, this is going to hurt... I'm fairly certain somewhere along the way, He said the same thing to Himself, and then kept walking towards Golgotha.