Fasting from Fretting

Forty days is a long time. A true test, if you know what I mean. Long enough to lose trust and choose an idol. Long enough to fear giants in a land of promise. And long enough, too, for the only faithful human to pass a test that would change the world.*

This is why we do it. This season we call Lent. We mark off 40 days leading to the cross. 40 days reminding us that we are fractured and fragile and unfaithful people. 

My husband gave up fretting for Lent. Specifically he has given up all manner of trying to figure out his future. Our future that is. And here we are a week in and we’re both chuckling at all the times we continue to fail. Together we fail, because I—his designated helper—fail to notice and remind him. Because maybe this fretting has become the water we swim in. Maybe it’s just the air we breath. 

We are fragile people. 

I was listening to a podcast about practicing Lent, and the teacher said our failure is a gift. She said, every time we fail we get to imagine God loving us and cheering us on to try it again. Like a devoted Daddy, proud of every repeated attempt. 

Speaking of being a Daddy. Any day now, our Jimmy will have his whole life turned inside out by the arrival of his new baby son. Oh, Jimmy. You have no idea. Seriously. No idea what you’re doing, and no idea how your heart’s about to explode with ridiculous love. Of course, you’ll figure it out. And your dad and I will be right here in the wings cheering our heads off. No doubt. 

Our boy tribe is outgrowing the gals. Again. There’s another little fellow due in July. And we’re still waiting to find out where this boy will make his big appearance. Southern California or up north in Minnesota. There are hints and suggestions, but still nothing solid.

Recently I had a chat with God, saying something like: The only thing I feel pretty sure of is that I’m following you. I just don’t know where we’re going. 

He said: Welcome to my story. 

It is sort of a theme, after all. Long seasons, testing our trust.  

These 40 day tests are all over the Bible. Times of preparation and also fulfillment. And more often than not, the time of testing is followed by a truly remarkable new beginning.

Noah’s family waited out a 40 day storm, hunkered down in an ancient boat. After 40 days of a giant’s taunting, David finally grabbed his slingshot. And after Jesus’ death and resurrection, he spent 40 days preparing his people for the coming Holy Spirit. 

We should know by now. We should know that while we’re doing the slow work of waiting, God is advancing the story in ways we could never imagine. God is always at work. And not just in my minuscule slice of the story. He is at work in the world, which is even better. 

If you do the math from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday, it actually totals 47 days. And this, too, is a grace. Because somebody somewhere, a  long time ago, decided we humans would need Sundays to take a breather. To give up our fasting for a day to feast. Which means, my husband can do all the fretting he wants on Sundays. And I get to eat sugar and drink full-strength coffee. lol. 

Long as it seems, Lent actually has a very encouraging meaning. Literally—Springtime. No kidding. And here in Minnesota we can certainly understand the embodiment of such a season. We wait, and we wait, and we wait. And as we wait, stuff happens. 

Days grow longer. Sun feels warmer. Snow begins melting. And birds remember their songs. We feel something stirring deep in our bones. Our very life-blood remembers a deep-seated promise. He will not fail us. 

Not once has he failed. 

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Scripture references in order of mention:  

Exodus 24-32—Moses on Mount Sinai/people make the golden calf

Numbers 13—Scouts in the land of Canaan 

Matthew 4—Jesus is tested in the wilderness 

Genesis 7—Noah’s flood 

1 Samuel 17—David & Goliath 

Acts 1—Time between Jesus’ resurrection & ascension