Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Unplanned act of faith

As has often been the case for me, entering this morning of Ash Wednesday, I had not settled on my plan for Lent, the 40 days (not counting Sundays) leading up to Easter. It's that time when a lot of Christians "give up" something as they prepare for Easter through fasting, repentance, moderation and-or other spiritual disciplines, often marked by sacrifice. It's also become acceptable to add something, such as more Bible study or acts of kindness.

I've been doing a better job of daily Bible reading, study and prayer this year, and I thought that might be a good lead-in to the spiritual discipline of at least a partial fast. This morning, my Bible readings seemed to confirm it, as Scriptures and devotional readings spoke of fasting, letting go and trusting God.

Most direct was the verse of the day on the YouVersion Bible App:

"Yet even now," says the Lord, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;" (Joel 2:12)

Looking back at the morning's readings, I see that was the only one that mentioned fasting. But others (Matthew 19:26; Romans 5:3-5; Matthew 7:24-27) referenced how things that seem impossible to me are possible with God and are surely worth the effort and-or sacrifice.

So, I was a bit surprised and significantly troubled by just how strong and clear was the resistance of my spirit to this idea.

"Lord, if it is to be, it will have to be through your changing of my heart and transformation of my will. I lift it up to You," I wrote in my journal as I prayed.

"Show me Your way. This moment, it seems more likely Lent will be a time of preparing my heart to let go — to fast — than a time of actual fasting."

I long to surrender. And still I resist.

"Lord, I offer myself to You, to use me as You will. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Your will. Take away my difficulties, not for my comfort, ease or glory, but that victory over them may proclaim to others Your power, Your love and Your way of life. I pray to know and do Your will. I pray to trust You with my life — to trust You even when to me it’s not clear that You are in control of my will or my life. I believe You can and will transform me. I will look for evidence of Your work all around as well as within. And in all things, I will give You thanks and praise. This is my prayer. I lift it up in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."

This was followed by thoughts of things I might consider giving up. Peanut butter, chocolate, Diet Dr Pepper, gum and social media were possibilities that came to mind.

But I could not see any of it happening. I felt no willingness to let go, not even for Ash Wednesday, and certainly not for the 40 days of Lent.

I spent more time reading, praying and writing. I lifted up people and situations I knew to be standing in the need of prayer. I offered praise and thanksgiving. And finally, still with no strong sense of a plan for the day or for a spiritual program for Lent, I stepped out in faith, trusting that I would discover God's plan for me step by step.

It was early afternoon before I made my first visit of the day to Facebook, and there among my "memories" was a post from Jim Goodwin, a former pastor at the church I grew up in and my mother still attends, that affirmed the path I had fallen into for Lent.

Among his words from March 6, 2014:

"The quicksand of good intentions ... a slippery slope toward failure ... delusion of control ... promises ... expectations ... disappointing ... fear ... 
"So, is there another option? What about 'faith'? ... I'm talking about faith for this moment of the journey, just this one second; not tomorrow or next week, just for this heartbeat of life. ... Ah, there is the heart of the matter? Will it ultimately be faith in me and my limitations, or will it be faith in the unlimited resources of God? ... I wonder what would happen in the consistency of my commitments and promises if I learn to live simply ... by faith in God."


Maybe because of those stubborn illusions of control, it's hard for me to just trust God. It seems that even God should want me to have a plan. A lesson I'm getting to experience again and again this year is that my assessment of what I think God should expect of me is usually wrong. Living by faith rather than my plans worked well today.

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. 

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord." (Isaiah 55:8, Revised Standard Version)

Lord I believe. I believe in You and trust You in many things and ways. Help my unbelief and my resistance in the places where I lack faith. I trust that You are at work for good. I love You Lord. I thank You. You are good. You are gracious. You are beyond my comprehension in all Your ways. ... I trust that You will lead me, to Your glory.

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