Ash Wednesday
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent; along with Good Friday, it’s one of the days in the church calendar that is traditionally a day of fasting. Why fast?
There are a lot of reasons, but I know that today one of them has become clearer to me. Fasting shows me how weak I am.
Spiritually weak, not physically. As a practical matter, it is not a big deal for me to skip two meals, breakfast and lunch. When I’m really busy and focused, sometimes I forget to eat anyway. I’m not even making it a total fast: I had a glass of orange juice this morning and I am having a cup of coffee now. But I keep thinking about eating. Oh, it’s lunchtime! No, wait, I’m not having lunch today. Hey, isn’t there a granola bar in my desk drawer? No, wait, I’m not going to eat anything until after church tonight. Hmmm, dinner. I wonder what we’ll have at the church potluck? No, hold on a minute, why do I keep thinking about food? I’m not even that hungry!
What fasting shows me – in vivid Technicolor – is that I am lousy at resisting temptation, and great at pretending that I’m good at it. I am capable of great discipline for the things I care about: I am a hard worker for my job, and I put effort into my athletic training. So I convince myself that I am a self-disciplined person, I must be good at resisting temptation!
And then I try, for a space of a few short hours, to set aside something that I want, to take on a discipline that is purely to honor God – and I discover that I am not good at it. Not at all.
I have a clear-cut end point for my fast; I am not going even a full day without eating, much less giving up anything forever. And yet the temptation to have something to eat recurs, sometimes less, sometimes more. The justifications pop up: I might be coming down with a cold; is it really wise to skip eating if I might be getting sick?
Who am I kidding? I am terrible at resisting temptation. Most of the time, what I call “resisting temptation” means not doing things that I don’t have any desire to, anyway. Or it means thinking “I could resist that if I needed to, but I don’t need to right now.” Actually giving it a try shows me that it’s a lot harder than that. And I know it. At other times, God has asked me to give up things in my heart that I didn’t want to give up… and I fought hard with Him before He helped me let go of them.
I am humbled to realize that my ability to be celibate, to live a clean life, has nothing to do with my own self-control and everything to do with God’s grace. It is not my strength but God’s mercy that has kept me from falling; it is His guiding hand that has kept me away from the temptations that He knows I would not be able to withstand. And it is my pride, my sinful pride, that whispers in my ear that I am in control, that I deserve praise for my good character and ability to resist temptation. Today I look at my sinful and weak heart and recognize that all that is good in me or my life is the work of God. Not my doing, but His.
What does Ash Wednesday teach me? That, in my poverty of spirit, I must turn to my Savior in all things, great and small, because it is by His grace and mercy that I follow Him, and not through my own strength.
Originally published at Radiant’s Sacred Spaces blog.
Related posts:
Dr Holly Ordway came to Christ through reason, in the pursuit of truth. "In your hearts honor Christ as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect" (1 Peter 15).
She writes about her journey from atheism to orthodox Christian faith in her book "Not God's Type: A Rational Academic Finds a Radical Faith" (Moody Publishers).
