Good gifts, from a Good Giver

I've written before on the gift of fasting, how it opens space to experience the fullness of God, how it is a means of communicating the desire of my heart for no other thing than Him.  

What I didn't write then is how fasting also refines my listening, and strengthens the subtle call to obey the intimate directions of a God who sees and knows the innermost workings of my heart, my life, the path He is guarding for me. 

I was reminded of this truth regarding fasting recently, when my church went on a 21 day fast, asking God for more of Himself.  

I sat in the initiating service, with my little 'what will you fast from?' card, and asked God: What do you want me to do?

I was thinking 'It's probably food, most surely it is very holy to fast from food for 21 days, most surely this is what God wants from me.'

What I heard was:  COFFEE.

And I thought, 'Seriously God?  Coffee? Surely you can't be suggesting I fast from my very favorite warm beverage of coffee.'

And He assured me: Surely, I am very serious.

So the next day, I started my daily routine without my coffee.  [I tried to start it without food too, thinking surely God must have made a mistake when He left that off the list.  I discovered quite quickly: Girl, I'm not asking you for this--you need to EAT.]

Fast forward through 21 days, during which I pined for that coffee.  I missed it.  I couldn't believe  how even the replacement of very yummy coconut chai tea with honey and milk that I felt allowed to indulge in did not replace my deep desire for coffee.  Oh, how my heart ached.

And, oh, how I realized: My quiet moments with God that I start every day with had become more like 'Quiet moments with my coffee, during which I talk to God'.  

Oh.

Now, pause for a moment in your fast forwarding on Saturday, the 20th day of the fast.  The day where God blew open my heart, and held me in deep awareness of my humbleness, and of His greatness.  The day where my only response was to just weep before Him.  The day where:

I convinced myself that the lack of coffee in my life was a symbol for something else God was asking me to sacrifice, the truest deepest desire of my heart:  Marriage and family.

[Pause for a moment to understand that this is something I do not talk about; as my deepest desire, the lack of it is also my deepest hurt, and my inclination to protect myself here is strong. Pause for a moment to understand: Writing about this is one of those refined acts of obedience to the giant heart of God.]

I sat with God in the hurt of such a sacrifice.  I said 'Are you really asking this of me?'  I said 'Please don't ask this of me.'  I said: If you are asking it of me, I will willingly go, and offer you my tears.

And my day moved on, in the arms of good friends.

The next morning I drove 30 minutes, to lead worship at one of my favorite gatherings.  I prayed on my way with a quieter heart, with tears just below the surface [without, I might add, my coffee resting in the cupholder...].  I said 'Be my hope; give me hope; give me something from You if you want me to have hope'. 

Because here's the interesting thing: Over the past year or so, God has been systematically and thoroughly teaching me, very clearly: 'This is what marriage is, this is what it isn't'.  And when I've fallen down in abject hopelessness that this is something He is never going to provide, He has systematically and thoroughly gone out of His way to pick me up, brush me off, and say: 

I want you to have hope.

So in my praying, I said: I will continue to ask you for a partner, for children.  I believe that you are a giver of good gifts, and that you have a Father's heart.  I will appeal to that heart, with open hands if you choose an answer other than yes.

As I listened on my drive, I felt quite strongly that my coffee fast was not going to end with the official end of 21 days.  I felt quite strongly that I needed the continued removal of coffee to remind me to listen, deeply, for Him, for direction, for hope.

I went to bed last night then, feeling the definite restraint of God's hand on the question of the coffee.

But this morning? I woke up, I rolled over, I opened my eyes.  I was hit with a sudden and immediate awareness of: Release.

An immediate awareness of God saying: Go get your coffee, because I am  a giver of good gifts, and I delight in giving you the desire of your heart.

An immediate and acute knowledge of God's heart for me, 

as He responded to the 'something' that I had asked Him for.

The fullness of His hope, the reality of His extravagant love,

demonstrated in the smallest of things.

For those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. 
They will soar on wings like eagles; 
they will run and not grow weary, 
they will walk and not be faint.
[Is. 40:31]
Enough; Amen.