The discipline of fasting couldn't have come at a better time for me.

In the past, I've usually had a specific reason, or else the nagging feeling that I need to get things straight between God and I, for which focused prayer and fasting were needed. I usually just fast for a day, abstaining from all food but drinking water. Prayer and the Bible take precedence. The day is marked by a renewed sense of peace in God, purpose is sharpened, and self is taken off its throne.  However rich the benefits of fasting, I could probably count on one hand how many times I've done this.
However, since we were required to fast this week, I looked for a reason. It shouldn't have surprised me that there are oh so many reasons, even in a seemingly normal week. Even though this week's activities might not have normally prompted me to fast, I was much better prepared to meet the week.
I decided to try something new this week. From Saturday until tomorrow, I have committed to the Daniel fast -only fruits and vegetables (I did make some minor adjustments). To my surprise, this has worked very well. Instead of focusing on the hunger that comes with missing meals, which invariably occurs when I abstain from food, I was forced to discipline myself, but not to the point of distraction. This way I have been able to maintain a worshipful experience for a longer period of time. I was happy to find that I didn't find it too difficult to practice discipline in this area.
I will confess, food is an area I do not regularly practice much discipline in. I often eat without thinking, or use it to smother ideas and thoughts that I'd rather not deal with. It's an easy preoccupation. Even though I don't wish to go to the other extreme of evaluating everything I eat, I know that I need to not let food dominate my life as much as I do. It becomes a habit, a bad one.
After reading in our book, Celebration of Discipline, about fasting regularly, or maintaining an absolute fast for a whole month, I've been convicted to do this more often. I've never entertained the possibility of fasting weekly, but perhaps making this part of my practice would force me to center myself weekly other than on Sundays. Bringing every area of my life under subjection not just to my own will, but under God's will, could only be a healthy practice.

This week, several things came together in my life spiritually. Perspective on life, forgiveness long withheld, killing sin, listening prayer, and recalling events in order to write my spiritual autobiography all brought me into the presence of God. Fasting added another element into the mix. My mind is clearer, and focuses more readily on worship. I have had some beautiful moments with my Lord this week. You know the kind? When you can almost feel God sitting in the room with you? When your active mind stops trying to answer its own questions, is still, and just for a moment, you realize that the words that flashed into your head were not your own? A wide moment looking up into the sky, and the peace that surpasses understanding breaks in upon your heart?

Thank You dear Father.

No, fasting is not fun. But it brings us into the presence of our Lord, of the One we desire most. It rips the idolatry of Self from our hearts, centering us again on God, the fulfillment of all of our desires, the Giver of Life. Why not take advantage of the opportunity to draw closer to Him?

                          Spiritual Autobiography

I sit with notebooks of my past journalings sprawled around me. Each one contains softly penciled precious thoughts, recordings of events, doodles, and half-written stories: the ideas that make me who I am. Old though they seem to me now, my journey with my Father began long before these pages were written.

The family I grew up in was loving, strongly Christian, and conservative.  I was given a solid foundation in the knowledge of God and was homeschooled from kindergarten up.  Born on April 23rd 1989, I was raised in New Jersey, the middle child of three girls: Laura, two years older, and Julianne, five years younger. I was adventurous, tomboyish, imaginative, and loud among acquaintances, yet shy around strangers. Stubborn and hard headed, I would often resist my mom’s schooling efforts and get myself into mischief.
Church plays a central role in my story. I learned a lot of doctrine from my church and family (my dad had attended to the seminary connected with the church) but it remained head knowledge. I would seek spiritual experiences, especially during Communion as I watched the members of the church take the cup and bread I would try to work myself up to feel the gravity of the occasion by imagining the brutality of Jesus’ sacrifice. I assumed that I would partake of baptism and membership along with all the others in my age group when I was considered old enough.

October 1999, almost exactly 13 years ago, we moved to Jenison, Michigan with the intent of attending one of two churches which were sister churches of my home church in New Jersey. However, only a few months after moving here, we left the church in which we had intended to become members in the first move of a “church odyssey” which spanned years. We attended a wide variety of denominations: Brethren, Strict Baptist, Orthodox Presbyterian, Reformed Presbyterian, non-denominational, church plants, etc. Every Sunday was spent huddled with my sisters listening to my parents discuss the finer points of theology, church practice, etc, as they decided if the church would be a good fit. Though we didn’t have much social interaction during the week, my sisters and I didn’t look forward to attending church yet again as the “new visitors.”

On and off during the time, I would battle with guilt over my sins: stubbornness towards my mother, fights with my sisters, and lack of diligence at schoolwork. Every day I’d try to start with a fresh slate, but I could never manage a full day without getting tangled in my sin.
One week in November 2000, I spent almost every night afraid to go to hell, crying and praying myself to sleep. I knew that although I believed all the right things, I was not giving my life to God in repentance. That Sunday, we visited a new church, whose walls were the same white painted brick as that of my home church back in New Jersey. I can’t remember the thought process that went through my head, but the Holy Spirit changed my heart that night. In the dark back seat of our old station wagon, heading down 1-96, I looked out at the winding road behind me and know that I was changed person. My heart belonged to another master, and the heavy guilt of my sin was gone. I began to trust Him that day, and for the first time I began to know His power and goodness. I know my life was changed then and I truly wanted to live for Him instead of just trying to good to escape earthly consequences and ultimately, hell.
I told no one of God’s encounter with me, but I felt a new peace as I went about my daily tasks. Though I still struggled with sin, I was no longer a slave. My parents later recalled that they could see a big change in my life at that time.

During this time, my family had shifted from typical Reformed Baptist to living a very conservative lifestyle. Many of the people we knew were “plain folk”. They lived simple lives, separated from worldliness. Like them, we girls began wearing dresses every day. We were about the nerdiest homeschoolers you could conjure.
I had many friends during this time, or, rather, second hand friends, because Laura was always more sociable and easy to talk to than I. My only true friends were still my sisters. We spent all day, every day together, which - as you can imagine - led to many fights, but many sweet moments as well. I learned a lot academically from being homeschooled, but the socially limited environment was depressingly dull.
Around 2004, our family began to re-attend Grace Immanuel Reformed Baptist Church (GIRBC) in Grand Rapids. Although our family did not seek membership at the time, my sisters and I deeply longed to be involved.

It was around the same time that another pivotal piece came into the story. One afternoon, Laura and I came upstairs to find a video cassette lying on the kitchen table. Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
My life was never the same. I say this half in jest, but truly, the next year, in which we watched each of those movies an even dozen times, completely changed my perspective on life. Instead of considering each day as a slate which I attempted to keep clean from sin, life unraveled as a story, and I saw it for what it is, a heroic battle between good and evil. It was as if a sword was placed in my hands, giving me the opportunity to be victorious over the dark, not merely keeping it at bay. I saw the beauty of the world as a setting for this battle, a testimony against the dark to illuminate the love and order of our Creator.
 
Through high school, we continued to be homeschooled, though by this point, we had full charge of our own schooling. This was a difficult time in my life, because we still had little social interaction, and the close, strong family we had had was falling apart. We basically raised ourselves during this time. I felt like Eowyn: "I fear a cage. To be trapped behind bars until use and old age accept them."Long story short, our family grew out of the conservative stage. My parents moved on to another church, but we three sisters remained at GIRBC. I got a job at Sunset Retirement Home in the food service at 17, in the footsteps of Laura. I was very shy at work at first.  Working with dozens of girls from various backgrounds introduced me just a little into the ways of the world. Gradually I developed confidence in my work, and Sunset became like a second home to me

At the age of 18, I learned how to drive -and crash- cars. Each of the three cars I totaled within three years was a little message from God. It was as if He took each car in His hand and placed it on the side of the road, without any harm to my passengers or myself. I think He just wanted me to learn that He is in control of everything.
Needless to say, the thousands of dollars that went into my cars left me short on college money. In part to save up, in part because I was afraid of college level work, and in part because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to go to college for, I took a year off after finishing school. I worked practically full-time hours at my job.
2007 was also the year I experienced one of the most beautiful days in my life. I officially became an adult that year, and my dad believed that adulthood was the age to be initiated in baptism, so I made public profession of my faith, declaring God alone as my Savior and Lord, and was welcomed into church membership.

The summer before I started college was a formative one. Being responsible for all the paperwork necessary for entering college was overwhelming, since while homeschooling I had been unused to deadlines and making important decisions. One event summarizes this time of life for me.
The week before school started, I went with my church friends down to the blustery Lake Michigan beach, where some of us went pier jumping. After jumping in, I realized my strokes weren’t taking me closer to the ladder; instead, I was being drawn out into the lake. The waves were high and every breath was cut short by a cresting swell. Unable to swim for the ladder and almost unable to breathe, I panicked. One of the guys had to jump in and guide me to the other side of the pier where there was another ladder.
It struck me that the same sinking, drowning emotion of trying in vain to swim back to the pier was the same way I felt when burdened by the weight of responsibility. It was the feeling of trying to accomplish something in my own strength and knowing that that strength wasn’t in me. Although I knew that God was in charge, and that I couldn’t do anything of value outside of his power, I had never experienced this truth so vividly. Entering college, I strove to remain close to God, to spend time with Him, hear His voice, and depend on Him for strength, and not myself.

At 19, I started school at GRCC. Though I had never been so stressed in my life, I loved every minute of it. I finally felt fulfilled, and that my life was full of direction. The cultural diversity of CC and the liberal atheistic mindset broadened my mind and focus. Also, I finally had good friends who appreciated me for who I was. I was growing in my friendships, responsibility, and my relationship with God.

However, my second year at CC was shadowed by a dark cloud: doubt. The social work classes I was taking at the time did not help: I drove home from many a class questioning everything I had believed about how government works and our role as Christians to help those in need. During that time I doubted everything except for God. That spring, I found myself doubting even Him. My love of philosophy and desire to be open-minded left me questioning not the assurance of my salvation, but if there was even a God. How could we prove His existence? What would my life look like if I didn’t believe in God? Innately, I knew that my life would need to be consistent with whatever belief system I chose. If I believed in God, it would follow that I’d need to be sold out, body and soul, to God. So, I gave myself a rumspringen(an Amish tradition where young people who were raised Amish are given a year to live in the world before becoming full members of the Amish for life), three days, I told myself, where I would disentangle myself from the Christian presuppositions and think for myself.  It ended up being a whole lot longer than that. Though it was exciting to probe the extent of my mind and belief at the time, the cloud grew ever blacker. I didn’t even want to pray to God or read Christian material, because we are most influenced by what we are surrounded with, and I wanted to make up my own mind. I am very thankful for the solid friendships God gave me during this time that helped me keep my footing. My dear friends prayed for me, presented me with the weaponry of Christian philosophy, and encouraged me to remain involved in church ministries and events.
One bright day walking home from work, I was darkly ruminating the recesses of philosophy and finding no escape, when I passed a church with a shining white steeple. It offended me. How could anyone be so arrogant as to claim that their way was so high above others? At the same time, I was drawn to it. They were so sure. Confidence is an attractive thing. There was such a beauty to the contrast of the white steeple against the bluest of blue skies. How could such beauty come to be? There must be some solid truth. This moment was the turning point. I did not reach a conclusion that day, except to recognize that if I wanted to believe God, the logic would point me in His direction, and if I did not want to know God, I could use that same philosophy against Him. It all had to do with which I chose to believe.
God is faithful. Even when I turned away from Him, He still held me and brought me back. Eventually I remembered. I did know God, just as one knows another person. I had seen Him work. I had heard His voice. How could I pretend He didn’t exist? Just because there is no proof of the persons’ existence does not mean they never were.

I graduated from CC with my associates in 2011. I knew that if I was meant to be a social worker, and counsel others, I would need to further my education at a Christian college, where my weak faith would be strengthened. I had heard my friend Jerika glowingly describe Kuyper’s spiritual focus, doctrinal soundness, and affordability, so I put in my application. It was that simple. No second guesses, no college tours. The acceptance interview had me sold. I’m still sold.
A month before I began at Kuyper, I moved out from my family’s home to live with Cindy Bushnell and work at the Adult Foster Care home she has in her house. Here I take care of four mentally disabled ladies. Along with the benefit of living 5 minutes from Kuyper, I have been able to experience Cindy’s gracious hospitality and a less hectic schedule.
Eventually I realized that social work was not my calling, and, due to my love of literature, switched majors to English. I’m thinking I’d like to work in the prison system, bringing art and literature to the inmates through programs such as Shakespeare Behind Bars, which helps prisoners to put on Shakespeare productions. However, while I used to want my life outlined ahead of me, with the hope of a neat little job after college, I’m now open to any kind of ministry. It’s exciting to see the subtle ways in which God leads and to anticipate seeing Him direct my life.

The testimony of God’s work in my life is not done, indeed, I know it will never end, and one day in heaven I hope I will be able to tell you my story again, in greater detail and with greater knowledge and more glory given to the One who has given me Life.

The greatest good in life is to know God. One of the ways we learn to know God is through prayer. Dwelling on this, I ask myself, "Why don't I pray more?" Conistency between belief and practice is important to me, yet where is my time spent with God to prove it?

Guilt, soggy self-hate, fills me. I don't pray enough. When I do pray, it's not hard enough, disciplined enough, long enough. I don't get up early. I don't set aside time each day even, though I try.

One of the reasons I feel that I fail in prayer is because I imagine an ideal prayer life consisting of getting up at 5 every morning for prayer, and praying down a list of things for about for an hour or so. While that may indeed be part of a disciplined prayer life, I need to remember that prayer, like all spiritual disciplines, is an excercise. As in physical excercise, the same routine is not beneficial for every person straight across the board. This also means that I need to start small and be consistent. God calls each of us to pray in a different way. He speaks to each of us in a unique way. For me, if I attempt to pray in a very structured way, my mind will end up wandering. Instead, I find that if I pray for whatever topic is at the moment distracting me, I can focus on the prayer, not the distraction. This is also God's way of moving me to pray for things I might not think to pray about normally.

In moments of prayer this week, two things were impressed on me. One was that I need to listen, not just talk/ask God requests. The other was that I am allowed to use my imagination in prayer. As I was frustrated that my mind kept interfering with being still and hearing God speak, the authoritative thought came, "Use your imagination. I want your imagination." Is it God speaking in those authoritative thoughts? I think yes.

This week we read about prayer. Though I had intended to set time aside to pray privately, most of the week I didn't set a nice chunk of time aside for it.  I finally did get a chance for a nice long conversation with God. Fog and rain wrapped around the house, so I curled up next to my open window and listened. Cool wet drizzle freshened the air. At first, the feelings of inadequacy in prayer kept me from  truly praying. When I remembered that God wants me to approach Him as a Father, I allowed myself to simply talk to Him. Peace came as I spoke to Him, and He in turn spoke to me. 45 min. was just not enough time! The rest of my day was centered and God-motivated. As a result, my actions were more focused, and I was able to reach out and put other's interests first much more easily.

After spending time in prayer, life slides into perspective. God wants us to talk to Him, and we ourselves benefit much from prayer. Just think, it's communication with the infinitely good, faithful, everpresent God. What a beautiful gift prayer is. It's so simple, really.

 I found the exercise of meditation to be the murkiest discipline to exercise yet.  In part, that's because I already practice it more than any other, almost out of proportion perhaps. Because of this, trying to practice it in other ways than I am used to felt unnatural. I always find strength when I wander away from civilization to spend time thinking about life and God, or simply am still and soak in nature, even if for a few minutes.

However, I purposed on reading this chapter to try something different. Instead of being dependent on a nature experience, I tried to find a quiet place inside to focus and listen to God. I nearly predicted the results. The first time I sat down to meditate I fell asleep, and the next time, my mind was unfocused. Even though I was attempting to spend 30 min dwelling on God and how He has worked in my life, I kept wanting to bring other disciplines into that time such as reading the Bible and praying. Without bringing those disciplines in, I veered to think about everyday things. That's when I realized that meditation isn't an exclusive discipline but an overarching one.  Our book seems to describe it as standing alone,  but from my limited experience, I think that meditation is merely a term that describes the time we spend with God. Today we call it devotions, but it incorporates not just stillness of mind, but dwelling on Scriptures and talking to God. It's not enough to just clear our minds, yoga-style. It's important that we fill our minds up with the Word of God and prayer.

Everyone has a unique way of approaching meditation. This week served to confirm what I knew already: I'm a nature girl, and my best quality "God time" is spend out of doors. Since I know what works for me, I need to set aside time to actually sneak out of doors and meditate. The challenge for me is just setting aside the time. I didn't this week, in part because most of my week involved going on Kuyper's worship tour. Though we worshipped sweetly and plentifully,  it was hard to set aside quiet time. Corporate worship cannot make up for private meditation.

I have nothing to offer as I write this. No profound meditation experience occurred, because I just didn't set aside the time. And I'm feeling the results. I'm less focused, more tired, and a little down. When I spend time in meditation, I am filled up for the day. Ordinary tasks are easier and more focused when I have already consecrated part of my day wholly to God. Here's to making a point of meditating regularly!

There's a certain sorrow that accompanies any serious discussion of sin. Our sin distances ourselves from God and hurts not only ourselves and the people around us, but darkens the world as well, as it distorts God's plan for Creation.

Last week, our class read the chapter on confession in Foster's book, Celebration of the Disciplines. I grew skeptical when he declared that "The followers of Jesus Christ have been given the authority to receive the confession of sin and to forgive it in His name." I had never come in contact with the idea that Christians are actually commanded by Scripture to confess their heart sins to each other, not just because we need to get it off our chests, but as a vital part of ministering to each other and bringing to light the forgiveness extended to us by God through Jesus' sacrifice. As I pondered the chapter, I realized that though I regularly confess to God, I still continue to carry feelings of insufficiency and guilt.

The more I read, the more convicted I was to practice the act of confession in my own life. I purposed to remind myself that even though I do still sin regularly, as a child of God, that sin no longer needs to be carried around by me, but has already been removed to the shoulders of Jesus, and He has conquered them and borne the guilt, shame, and punishment I deserve. Through His power, I am seen as pure, clean, and sinless in God's eyes! For the first time in years, I was held in true wonderment at how and why God would work such a miracle. This truth has been taught to me since before I could remember, and had grown stale in my mind, but I have been reminded of its potency through the simple act of declaring to myself, "You are forgiven. God has removed your sins as far as the east is from the west - they are forgotten by Him. In His eyes, you are already restored."

As part of this discipline, I made a point of sharing this discovery with some of my close friends. As they privately related some of their struggles, I reminded them that God has freed them from all sin so that they no longer need to carry that guilt. The work has already been done. As I spoke, they stilled, and I saw peace enter their eyes. God's truth is powerful!

 Yes, Christians sin - we're only human. But our sin no longer carries the sting of death because though we deserve the punishment for it, our sin is already conquered. Even as powerful as sin is, it cannot change God's love for people, and only it only serves to highlight His goodness.