Thoughts on Fasting, Selfishness, and a Crazy Love Story

I am listening to Worn and just trying to process the events of the past two days right now. And yes, you should ll go listen to that ASAP.

Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends

That you can mend a heart that’s frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise

From the ashes of a broken life

And all that’s dead inside can be reborn

Cause I’m worn.

This weekend I participated in something known as the 30 Hour Famine. It’s a nationwide fast among youth particularly. We raise money for the humanitarian organization known as World Vision. The money goes to families in underdeveloped countries who are struggling for their next meal.

In other words, we go hungry so they don’t have to anymore. We spend thirty hours fasting as a group, learning more about poverty, worshiping, and doing service projects in our community.

It’s an incredible idea. It’s incredible to be hungry. It’s incredible, because I found that there was more I was hungering for, in a world of empty affluence and an American dream that will never be anything more than a dream. It’s incredible, because for the first time those frustrating priorities- money, education, more money, success, more money- turn on their heads, because the lion is the lamb and the king died for the servants.

And all that’s dead inside can be reborn.

But with this renewal, frustration.

Frustration because I hate the selfishness that I see in the mirror. I hate that despite being hungry, I still knew when my next meal was coming. And I hate that all weekend we talk about ourselves, how the famine changes us, how hungry we are.

And then there’s the competition: Who raised the most money? Who fasted the longest? Who served the most? Who gave up the most?

Even when we’re losing we’re trying to win.

The weekend was more than I expected and less than I longed for. I wanted that lion to come roaring in and melt away the ashes of my broken life.

But instead, the lamb.

And somewhere in between the mountaintop of renewal and the valley of anger is a river called grace.

A river that doesn’t flow like I thought it did. Like I wanted it to.

But redemption does come.

And the struggle does end.

And this heart, so frail, so torn?

He mends it gently, secretly, in a quiet place in my heart no one sees.

A place where the King is a Carpenter.

Where the Rock of the Ages is shattered to pay for me.

Where the Lion is the Lamb.

And where redemption overtakes a heart that’s worn.

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