I didn't feel like serving yesterday. I didn't want to go to the cafe. (Ever had one of those days?) But...I went anyway. And I went grouchy and selfish. I stirred our daily soup on the cafe stove reminding myself that today I'd be serving someone as if that person were Jesus himself. (That seemed to help me refocus.)
What I needed was a swift kick in the backside. (Ever need a kick like that?)
It was a slow shift. I was all alone, sipping my fifth cup of decaffeinated green tea, with a downtrodden face, when a man walked in. We sat together. He talked. I listened.
Eventually, he shared about his childhood. He spoke of his parents not caring for him while he was a teen. How there was never food in the house. His upbringing was abusive and neglectful. He said that it got so bad that at one point he actually only had mustard and ketchup to eat. It was a heart breaking story.
As he opened up his heart, I thought of my daughter.
I couldn't conceive of not caring enough to not have food in the cupboard for my daughter to eat. I would tear down the heavens in search of milk money for her to take to school. In my sinfulness, I would rob a bank at gunpoint to make sure she had food to eat. I would terrorize and torture my pride. So that, in humility, I could ask others for food.
I would fast and pray. I would go without food so that she could eat my portion. So that she would not go without food.
I felt moved to pack up some goodies to give this guy. I grabbed a couple packs of beef jerky, pop-tarts, a bag of chex-mix, and some fruit and nut granola bars. It was a magical assortment of snacks.
I prayed and hoped that this goodie bag would be a gentle salve for his deeply wounded heart. I would fast any day of the week so that he could eat. And I would smile in great enjoyment watching him chew and swallow every morsel. He no longer lives under that oppression. He can eat. He will eat. So long as I'm at the cafe.
I know the text below may be a lot to read. But I hope you'll take a moment to read through this passage. Take time to let the words soak deeply into your heart and soul. The great prophet Isaiah wrote:
'Why have we fasted,' they say,
'and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
and you have not noticed?'
"Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
and exploit all your workers.
Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
and expect your voice to be heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD ?
"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? (Isaiah 58 3-7; bold added by me)