I’m sitting here with an almost irresistible
desire to open the fridge. To pull out all those yummy items that I know are in
there (or at least what my imagination tells me is in there), plop back down on
the couch, and eat to my heart’s content.
But I refrain.
Because it’s Fasting Day. (Pout. Sigh. Tummy growl.)
A few months ago, my friend J. and I were
discussing the missing ‘something’ in our spiritual lives…fasting. Sure, I fast with the best of
them on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, counting out my small meals and going to
bed early so I don’t notice the lack of my favorite bedtime snack. But voluntary fasting? Shudder. For someone
who loves cooking and baking and—let’s be honest here—eating…fasting was something I was quite
happy to shake hands with twice a year and leave it at that.
But whenever I heard that Bible verse, Mark
9:29, about how some demons "can only come out through prayer
AND through fasting” (emphasis mine), I’d get a little
squirmy...
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