This morning, after all the bustle fades away, after the boys are off to school and Jeff off to work, after I am left alone … I sit at the table with my morning reading and I focus in. We’ve just passed the first Sunday of Lent and I figure it’s time I get serious about this, right? I’ve made some secret commitments for these next forty days and so far my heart hasn’t picked up the banner. I’ve blamed it on the weather, blamed it on daylight savings time, blamed it on some circumstances happening between these walls that are breaking my heart; but, really, there is only one place to lay the blame.
“[W]e have adopted and practiced fasting as a good work: not to bring our flesh into subjection; but, as a meritorious work before God, to atone for our sins and obtain grace. And it is this that has made our fasting a stench and so blasphemous and shameful, so that no drinking and eating, no gluttony and drunkenness, could have been as bad and foul. It would have been better had people been drunk day and night than to fast thus.” (emphasis mine)