Lent - Week 2

What am I doing this for?  This is stupid, I thought.  Two weeks into Lent, to saying to no to soda and withholding desserts and sweet things from myself, my attitude has been sour.  What’s the point?

As I began to journal my raw thoughts and emotions, I was suddenly aware of how ugly my attitude was.  I was writing to God and how He better be doing something with this.  How He better have something for me here.  How He better bring about some kind of healing or cure for my eating disorder.  How I better shed a few pounds by Easter with all of the calories I’m eliminating in my every day diet.  How there better be a reward at the end of all of this Lent stuff.

The pen in my hand was writing furiously and I could barely keep up with all that I felt like I was wanting and hoping and needing God to do in this process.

You’re missing it, He said.  You’re missing Me.

So I stopped and I cried.  Because for two weeks, ALL I have thought about is donuts and cookies and pie and ice cream.  I have begrudgingly eaten some apples and have tried to imagine my container of light and fit yogurt was a bowl of chocolate ice cream with extra hot fudge.  I haven’t sought Him out when the cravings hit.  I haven’t gone to Him when I’m desiring the usual amount of sugar I am used to filling my body with.  Instead I’ve pouted and have been waiting for some spiritual light bulb to go off inside of me that gives me some aha moment and maybe then I’ll suddenly be changed in this place forever.

It’s what I’ve been waiting for.  It’s almost what I’m banking on to happen at the end of this journey, that in the last week, has felt utterly ridiculous.  When I was honest with myself, weight loss or feeling cured of this is maybe why I agreed to go through with this in the first place.  I realized that I’ve been in it for me.  For my own glory and gain.  Or loss, in this case.

And what He spoke to my heart was true.  I have been missing it.  I have been missing Him. It grieved me that something is all about Him and for Him, I've managed to make all about me.

There are 30 more days left of this season.  And I have been counting down because Easter Sunday marks the day I can freaking have some kind of amazing dessert.  Even my countdown has been all about me because I’m counting down to the thing and not to the celebration of His resurrection.

Today I’m feeling humbled, a little knocked on my butt and a little embarrassed that to admit any of this here.  My hope is that the next 30 days will be less about me and less about the sweets I’m not eating and more about Him.  Because I don’t want to miss Him in this.

This morning I’m remembering His invitation when He laid this on my heart.  Come to me for the sweet, He said.

Could He be sweet?  The God I love and believe in, the One I’ve wrestled with and struggled with, the One who has broken my heart again and again – could He be sweet?  Could I find what I’m looking for in Him?  Can God really satisfy me here?

I don’t know yet.  But maybe I’m beginning to ask the right questions.