Thoughts on Fasting and Giving Gifts

I remember being in Italy and looking for a gift to bring home to my wife.  It's not that she is difficult to shop for, it's that I want to get her the PERFECT gift.  Not just a "hey honey I was in Milan and got you a glittery plaster statue of Il Duomo" gift; a meaningful gift that says "hey honey I was in Milan and saw this and it just screamed your name" gift.  The. Perfect. Gift. That is what I want for my wife most of the time, which makes gift giving holidays kind of stressful for me.

Which brings me to the season of Lent.  Towards the end of dinner a few nights ago we were discussing what to bring to the Chapel's "Fat Tuesday on Sunday" fellowship lunch and that led to the next logical question: "What are you thinking about giving up for Lent?"

Being of a Protestant tradition of the Christian faith, there aren't any specific fasting traditions or requirements. In the Eastern Orthodox Church you will most likely encounter fasting from meat, dairy, eggs, wine/alcohol, and oil.  In the Roman Catholic tradition you will most likely meet with individuals who are limited to fish as the only meat they can eat on Fridays.  On the Protestant side of the family tree, there aren't quite so many limitations, which means that there is usually some ind of discussion as Lent draws near about how we want to approach the 40 day fast. 

What has recently occurred to me is that maybe we should approach the decision to fast with the same level of care with which we choose gifts for one we love.  After all, fasting is a gift given in love to the God who saves us through Christ, why not choose the pattern of fasting with the same care-filled hearts we choose gifts with. 

For the season of life that I lived in the Eastern Orthodox Church, I let my life be governed by a dietary calendar.  Pink days on the calendar were fasting days, if there was a little fish in the corner it meant that seafood was permissible. 

Permissible.  That's a pretty telling word about my approach to the fast. It was rules-based and driven by my desire to not need to confess to the priest that I had not kept a particular fast day.  There was very little love behind my discipline.

After moving into the Protestant neighborhood, I had seasons where I would not be dictated by a calendar and therefore never kept much of a fast at all.  There were also seasons where I made the choice to take up a discipline and found that in taking something up I was forced to lay something else aside and grew in my love for God and my walk with Christ. 

Now I find myself motivated by wanting to find the perfect gift. And I am reminded of these words that are part of the Ash Wednesday liturgy every year: "Even now," declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart."

I don’t want to go as far as to say, “It’s the thought that matters,” because that’s not entirely true.  But I do believe that fasting disciplines are more meaningful to us if we put our hearts on the line and consider the why behind the fast.