Fast
Lenten fasts are an excellent practice, not only as a preparation, but as an opportunity to take advantage of one's own self-conscious piety as a tool for moderation and discipline. The knowledge that it is a Lenten fast lends so much more weight than just a regular attempt at self-moderation. When I select my fasts, I always go with an aspect of my life that I know requires a bit of reining in.
I always try to augment specific Lenten fasts, giving up a particular vice, with a general moderating of all my frivolous pleasures. I will not drink any of my beloved desert/coffee items from Starbucks during this time. This is an item that I will not miss for the most part, but it is a greatly immoderate favorite use of my funds. So also, I will not buy any new clothing during this period. This is another thing that I will not miss terribly, but it is a favorite method of tending my vanity.
My point in fasting is not to cast myself into physical discomfort so much as it is to make me realize that, nice though these things might be, they do not make me content, nor are they where I find my happiness. On the contrary, the more I indulge the more I desire, and the less content I become with that which is mine.
I do not think that I am alone in this. The more I feed my vices the stronger they become, and worse I am at managing them. It becomes an addiction.
We have gone chasing happiness in the guise of a thousand petty drugs, but when the first sensation passes we are left with an empty hunger; a desire for more. We know it has killed others, but we have it under control. We understand what we are doing, we only stray from God in moderation; a little bit of sin, easily inoculated by the boundless grace of God.
Lent is stern stern call, and in our addiction it is jarring: repent.
There are no safe sins, no gray areas, and all sin is corrosive to faith and leads only to death. We take the good things God has given out of his divine providence and mercy and we pervert them. We look to goods and pleasures for lasting pleasure, identity, and meaning, as if we could draw these things from material possessions.
Worse, we grow frustrated at our inability to derive meaning and happiness from the worldly goods he has given, and chase after things which we have not been given. We are so sure that God is holding out on the best things--the ones that would finally make us happy. Or, more likely, God never enters our minds as the provider of our worldly goods, and we chase after our desires counting everything we obtain as our due.
And if it is our due that we desire, then it is our due that we shall receive.
There is a just rebuke in Ash Wednesday. We are dust, and to dust we shall return; a point we are all too quick to forget. Our Lord does not tell us this in order to throw us into despair. He reminds us of who we are, that we might remember who he is.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder: stop looking to the things of this world for happiness and meaning, it is all dust, as are we. Where your treasure is, there also your heart will be. Stop trying to join yourself to the dust of this world; it leads only to death.
It is a strange irony that it is in dust that we find our hope. Not all dust is dead. In the midst of trials and trepidations, dead family, false friends, bad drivers, and empty coffeepots, there is but one dust in which our trust is well-placed.
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, dust of our dust, bore our form, fell lifeless to the earth, and rose triumphant, in order that he might draw our dust to him. We are dust, and yet he put on our dust that we might be his bride. We are dust, and to dust shalt we return; to the risen dust of Our Lord in heaven.
The fast will not be comfortable, but rejoice, even as we fast in this world we know that we shall never fast in the next. Discipline yourselves, my brothers. Trust not in the dust of this world, nor in your own dust, but in the promise of Him who took on dust for us.
We are heirs to the Kingdom of God, spotless and pure, the Blood of God running plenteously down our lips and in our veins. Let this be our pleasure, identity, and trust.
Rejoice my brothers, and fast. For our treasure is infinitely greater and more precious than all those things from which we now abstain.
I always try to augment specific Lenten fasts, giving up a particular vice, with a general moderating of all my frivolous pleasures. I will not drink any of my beloved desert/coffee items from Starbucks during this time. This is an item that I will not miss for the most part, but it is a greatly immoderate favorite use of my funds. So also, I will not buy any new clothing during this period. This is another thing that I will not miss terribly, but it is a favorite method of tending my vanity.
My point in fasting is not to cast myself into physical discomfort so much as it is to make me realize that, nice though these things might be, they do not make me content, nor are they where I find my happiness. On the contrary, the more I indulge the more I desire, and the less content I become with that which is mine.
I do not think that I am alone in this. The more I feed my vices the stronger they become, and worse I am at managing them. It becomes an addiction.
We have gone chasing happiness in the guise of a thousand petty drugs, but when the first sensation passes we are left with an empty hunger; a desire for more. We know it has killed others, but we have it under control. We understand what we are doing, we only stray from God in moderation; a little bit of sin, easily inoculated by the boundless grace of God.
Lent is stern stern call, and in our addiction it is jarring: repent.
There are no safe sins, no gray areas, and all sin is corrosive to faith and leads only to death. We take the good things God has given out of his divine providence and mercy and we pervert them. We look to goods and pleasures for lasting pleasure, identity, and meaning, as if we could draw these things from material possessions.
Worse, we grow frustrated at our inability to derive meaning and happiness from the worldly goods he has given, and chase after things which we have not been given. We are so sure that God is holding out on the best things--the ones that would finally make us happy. Or, more likely, God never enters our minds as the provider of our worldly goods, and we chase after our desires counting everything we obtain as our due.
And if it is our due that we desire, then it is our due that we shall receive.
There is a just rebuke in Ash Wednesday. We are dust, and to dust we shall return; a point we are all too quick to forget. Our Lord does not tell us this in order to throw us into despair. He reminds us of who we are, that we might remember who he is.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder: stop looking to the things of this world for happiness and meaning, it is all dust, as are we. Where your treasure is, there also your heart will be. Stop trying to join yourself to the dust of this world; it leads only to death.
It is a strange irony that it is in dust that we find our hope. Not all dust is dead. In the midst of trials and trepidations, dead family, false friends, bad drivers, and empty coffeepots, there is but one dust in which our trust is well-placed.
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, dust of our dust, bore our form, fell lifeless to the earth, and rose triumphant, in order that he might draw our dust to him. We are dust, and yet he put on our dust that we might be his bride. We are dust, and to dust shalt we return; to the risen dust of Our Lord in heaven.
The fast will not be comfortable, but rejoice, even as we fast in this world we know that we shall never fast in the next. Discipline yourselves, my brothers. Trust not in the dust of this world, nor in your own dust, but in the promise of Him who took on dust for us.
We are heirs to the Kingdom of God, spotless and pure, the Blood of God running plenteously down our lips and in our veins. Let this be our pleasure, identity, and trust.
Rejoice my brothers, and fast. For our treasure is infinitely greater and more precious than all those things from which we now abstain.
my beloved desert/coffee items
ReplyDeleteDesert items?
Seriously though, Mr. "I want to be a rich bachelor lawyer", that was, like, a sermon. And really lovely.
Yes, very.
ReplyDeleteYes,very . . . and you made me cry.
ReplyDelete