Fasting {week 2}

*A note before you read this. After doing an audit of my blog in 2022, I have decided to leave content that speaks to the Christian I was at the time this was written. I no longer identify as Christian (and haven’t for a very long time.) I chose to leave these posts because it is who I was then and it is important to me to be honest and true with every iteration and evolution of self that I experience. I may decide to add comments to the end of posts like this as well

Wednesday during the day was another physically rough day for me. I didn’t expect to be down two weeks in a row on the same day. Not only was my body hurting, but my emotions were that of a very hormonal teenager :/  I was crying and angry over something so very stupid. I was tired and my head hurt and I cried more. I could not stop crying (and I’m just *not* a crier!)

Phil left early for work and I tried to make my attitude better. By evening when it was time to log off, I felt much better emotionally, but physically, I was still drained so I went to bed super early.

Thursday was a much better day. I woke feeling great and that lasted all day! I spent the majority of my day finishing word sketches while listening to sermons from Adrian Rogers and John Piper. My soul was full. I prayed for many people.

I didn’t log on to social media. I didn’t take a bite of meat. I did ok this week!!

I did however, feel heavy over a particular thing…

Yesterday was Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday which commemorates The Last Supper. I was thinking on Jesus’ words to his disciples:

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying,“Take and eat; this is my body.”

Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.  I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

I cannot eat bread.

I cannot drink wine.

And my heart was so heavy. So very heavy.

My body is in such a state of illness that the two symbolic acts of remembrance that Jesus gave, I cannot partake of. I thank God that we are in an age of grace and this reality will not hurt my relationship with Christ. Symbolically, though, the fact that my body will reject bread and wine weighs on me. the traditional unleavened wheat bread of communion will cause swift and severe allergic reaction, it will leave me sick for days on end. It will bring the healing to a screeching halt. The wine, I’ve just learned, is basically poison to my system for as long as my adrenal system is in failure.

Both the bread and wine are poison to me right now.

I can’t get over that.

It feels very much like the Easter story, the very gospel message: Jesus became sin. His body became the very thing it rejected. As my body is rejecting His symbols of ultimate love and sacrifice, I am in mourning for I want nothing more than to be able to share in His communion. But I can’t. Not if healing is to occur.

His body took on all of the ugliness of this world in order that He might heal us all and reconcile us to eternity and He mourned and grieved to the point of sweating blood. He wanted nothing more than to be able to be in communion with His Father. But he couldn’t. Not if healing was to occur.

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”

When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

My minuscule health problems do not compare to Christ’s sacrifice in even the slightest way. I know that. But I also have a deeper, a much deeper, understanding of healing right now–in this moment–when I cannot be in true communion with Jesus.

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