Temptation

When you intentionally give up a habit/activity/behavior for a period of time like Lent, you very quickly find out that habit/activity/behavior stares at you like one of those weird paintings where the eyes seem to follow you around the room. You can't seem to get away from your desire to do that thing.

What you discover in short order is that that thing actually has power over you.

Surprise! You've grown quite fond of junk food (what I happen to be giving up)/sweets/angry words/TV, or whatever it is you've decided to do without. In fact, you might even experience long periods where you find yourself thinking about that thing. Wanting it. Longing for it. Contemplating what it will be like when you get to have it/do it again (I'm not saying I've already planned a trip to Crown Candy Kitchen, but there may or may not be a date in my calendar).

This is crucial moment. Fasting, Richard Foster says, is the one practice that, more than any other, reveals the things that control us. Jesus--the smartest man who ever lived--understood this and encouraged regular fasting.

Giving something up for Lent isn't an exercise in spiritual muscularity, it's an exercise in humility. We find out that we are weak, that we need help, and that we can't do this alone.
We need God.
We need a community to support us.
We need to admit that we need help.

The photo is from Baskin-Robbins--for me a true Lenten den of iniquity--and if my family hadn't been in the car, I think my car may have automatically gone through the drive-thru.

What is your Lenten sacrifice teaching you?

Scott