Do I Fast?

I was recently asked by a friend whether or not I fast. After looking at her oddly since the question seemed to come out of nowhere, I answered that I do sometimes fast. She then asked me what I thought about fasting. My short answer to her was that I don't fast because it is somehow the "holy" thing super-Christians do, or because I am trying to get something from God. I choose to fast when I feel I have no other choice with which to respond to particular moments in life. In other words, I fast when it seems to be the natural response.

My theology of fasting has been greatly shaped by the work of Scot McKnight. I really began to develop a deeper understanding of this ancient Christian practice when reading his book on fasting from The Ancient Practices Series. In McKnight's words, fasting "is the natural, inevitable response of a person to a grievous sacred moment in life [emphasis mine]."

As he explains, biblical fasting begins with an encounter of a "grievous sacred moment." It is this experience that prompts a person to fast. A person responding to such events only receives benefits after they respond to a prior event (and even then blessings are not guaranteed to always happen). McKnight consistently argues that the reaped benefits are not the point of fasting. We do not fast in order to get closer to God, to change our circumstances, or to get our prayers answered (although these things often do happen when we fast). Rather, we fast because we feel led to do so by our circumstances. We fast because it seems like the natural reaction to particular moments in our lives.

So, yes I do fast, but only when I feel like it is natural for me to do so. I fast during those "grievous sacred moments." A loved one dies. A friend is sick. My ministry faces challenges and frustrations. A church is divided by conflict. A country is burdened by bloodshed and war. These are the moments when I fast. I fast because my soul grieves. I fast because my body does not feel the desire to eat. I fast because I need more than bread in those times--I need the words of God.

I feel like fasting has always danced an awkward tango with the evangelical church. I've heard many evangelical leaders praise and demand fasting because "it is the only way to get close to God or to see your prayers answered" (which, as I just stated above, is not the real purpose of fasting). At the same time, I get the feeling that most evangelical Christians don't really know what to do with fasting or don't really know why they should do it. They get the impression that it is a "holy" experience they should do, but they don't know why and tend to avoid it because it seems too ancient or odd.

I think a large reason we evangelicals don't get fasting is because we've divorced the "body" and the "soul." We think the "real" part of us is our soul, which we think will fly off to heaven one day, leaving our body behind. In contrast, fasting is an act very solidly rooted in bodily experience. Why practice fasting when I can't really see how this bodily act will impact my soul, the "true me"?

However, once we realize the error of this thinking then we can better appreciate the practice of fasting. We are more than a soul. We are soul and body. These two cannot be divided or separated. This is the whole point of the promise of the resurrection. One day, God will restore our bodies back to us. Our bodies do matter, and what we do in these bodies matters as well because bodily practices do impact the spirit. They are united.

So, yes I do fast, and it probably wouldn't hurt if you did too. However, don't fast in order to get something. Don't fast to manipulate God into blessing you or answering your prayers. Instead, fast when life demands it. Fast when you encounter those "grievous sacred moments." Fast when you are in pain. Fast when you are surrounded by death and suffering. Fast when your prayers seem to go unanswered and you feel abandoned by God. Doing so brings our body into harmony with what our soul is experiencing. So, the next time pain and tragedy smack you in the face, don't censor your body, but allow it to suffer as well and open yourself to the healing and grace found in Christ.

Scandals in the Family

In the past few days I have seen several posts on Facebook and news stories concerning the scandals and accusations surrounding Seattle pastor, Mark Driscoll. In case you missed it, a fresh round of accusations has come his way and seem to be coming to a head. Some are the same old charges of misogyny, while newer concerns have also been raised about mismanagement of church funds. The most recent revelations have led the Acts 29 network to kick Driscoll and his church, Mars Hill, out of their fellowship, Lifeway publishers to pull Driscoll's books from shelves, and church members and others to protest outside the church demanding for Driscoll's resignation.

Pastor Mark Driscoll

For a number of Christians, this news no doubt excites them. I know numerous Christians who have criticized or made fun of Driscoll because of his theological stances which they viewed to be sexist or misogynistic. I myself would tend to agree and have never been greatly impressed by Driscoll's overall demeanor. So, now that things seem to be falling apart for Driscoll and his church, it would be easy to those who have criticized Driscoll in the past to pat themselves on the back and say, "I told you so. It was just a matter of time."

But now is not the time for gloating or for seeking vindication. Rather, I think now is a time for weeping. It is becoming clearer that the ministry built by and surrounding Driscoll has not always been very ethical. In fact, this is the central reason Acts 29 gave for removing Driscoll and Mars Hill from their membership. But this is not something to celebrate.

The previous two churches I attended have experienced scandals and church splits. I can say that this is not a joyful experience. While some of us may not care for the ministry approach (or sins) of Driscoll, we cannot forget that there are many members of his church who are caught in the crossfire of these controversies. Whether their pastor resigns or simply has his credibility damaged, this congregation will suffer. And, if some of us are right in asserting that he has failed to minister in an ethical or godly way, then we should also grieve that this congregation has not been served well for years.

But even beyond grieving for this particular congregation, incidents like this should cause us to weep for the entire Church. "There is one Body." You and I are connected to Driscoll and to his ministry whether we like it or not. We serve the same Savior King. We were baptized by the same Spirit. We are part of the same Body. And so, when one minister sins, even on the other side of the country, his (or her) sin impacts us all. It damages the credibility of the Church in the eyes of the world. It hurts our brothers and sisters in Christ. And it creates a distraction from the central mission Christ has given the Church.

And so, even though I personally don't care for Driscoll, I must suppress the urge--the temptation--to gloat or celebrate. As part of the Body of Christ I need to grieve. After all, I am called to love Driscoll and his church, despite the shortcomings. So, let us grieve for this situation and seek healing and forgiveness because the love of Christ compels us to do so.

"But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it." 1 Cor. 12:24-26