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...