A few years back during a dark night of the soul, I rediscovered this truth. Hymns I’d long forgotten popped up unbidden in my thoughts. Scripture verses I’d forgotten I’d memorized as a child emerged out of nowhere. Prayers I’d learned, spoken by thousands of Christians over centuries, rooted my thoughts when I didn’t have the words.
What damage can be done if people exercise their spiritual gifts without love?
At the end of the day, it’s not just about spectating; at the end of the day, it’s not just about building a monument. At the end of the day, it’s about pursuing God with our whole heart.
Lent is a season of clarity. We already sit among the ashes. We already sit in cities made in our own image.
We are both sinners and saints, dust and treasure, limited but with tremendous potential, fallen but loved.
We fast to clear away the noise and the pain and the hurt. We fast to tune our hearts to his grace. We fast, even in the midst of our pain and brokenness, not to be torn down.
No, we fast to be built up. To be reminded of what matters and where life is found. We fast so that our ears can properly hear that voice of God, calling out to us.