I imagine sitting at an empty table, perhaps like one of these nestled in the beauty of Rudesheim, Germany.
All day I have been without food. I wasn’t too busy or too poor. At any time I could have grabbed a bite. But I wanted to appreciate even more the delight of coming to this table and this meal truly hungry. The fact that I can eat any time I want makes it easy to take for granted…and it means that I lose touch with what it is to hunger.
Carrying that thought deeper, I still don’t experience the enduring hunger of those without sustenance. When I fast it draws those dear ones closer to my waking mind and heart and they become a more intimate part of my conversation with God.
I read an article titled Hunger by Lindsey Krinks from the Aug. Sept. Oct. 2015 edition of Weavings this morning and discovered a new take on fasting.
Fasting, to me, has always meant a discipline by which we reign in our carnal desires. It has really illuded me spiritually until this morning when the light went on while reading the reflections about hunger. To hunger for God’s presence and to hunger for the desire to serve…these are things that are, in my heart, essential to my walk with God. But how often do I know what it is to really hunger? What frame of reference is there to remind me what hunger feels like when all of the worldly delights have me fascinated.
I just read that passage in the New Testiment where Jesus is asked why his disciples don’t fast. (I don’t have time to look up chapter and verse right now) He replies that there is no need to mourn while the bridegroom is with them…something to that effect. And there, my friends, is my huge AHA! moment.
How much do I miss my Jesus? I have yet to physically meet him. But in my busyness and fullness do I hunger to see him?
This is what came to me over my morning cuppa joe.