Prayer and Fasting? Ouch!

In an effort to step up my campaign in the “good fight” as St. Paul called it, I volunteered to go on a three day “Desert Retreat”. Although volunteering is in direct violation of my strict personal policy to never volunteer, I thought it was necessary to improve my spiritual growth. I guess they called it a “desert retreat” not to be mistaken for a “dessert retreat” because it is like going into the wilderness away from all the everyday distractions and temptations to fast and pray.

Our leader, who by no stretch of the imagination could be described as a small man, announced we would all gather at a common point in order to caravan out to the remote isolated retreat location. So we all met at, you guessed it, the “all-u-can-eat” Golden Corral. Well…this makes sense…as any athlete knows you want to “carb-up” before any marathon. In recent years I have learned to avoid these “all-u-can-eat” places due to the fact that I feel a moral obligation to hold up my end of the bargain. Plus being a member of the “clean your plate…there are children starving in China” generation, I have decided these eating establishments are places I need to be kept away from. But, I decided to take one for the team and “soldier on” thinking the next three days I would have to exist on stale bread crumbs and water.

We arrived at our camp site and immediately got into some heavy duty praying and spiritual exercise; the Liturgy of the Hours, the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet and around the clock Eucharistic adoration.

My stomach rumbled during the silent prayer. It didn’t need nourishment it needed a bicarbonate of soda. Finally by the next afternoon things settled down and I looked forward to the possibility of a hunger pain as some sort of sign of my spiritual progress. But as evening fell our leader produced a meal of spaghetti and meat balls that any decent Italian restaurant would have envied. So, for me, once again the line between sustenance and gluttony was blurred.

Fasting and praying…the praying didn’t go much better. My mind wandered and wondered back and forth, in and out, from the spiritual world to the worldly world. I couldn’t stay focused. I worried about my fault and failings, my “should have dones” and my “could have dones”. I needed to get out of the past and into the present, the here and now. So I pulled my chair up close to the altar, right up next to the Holy Eucharist, Our Lord, physically present in a special way. I just looked at him and thought “I can’t believe it”. It’s hard to believe I am sitting here in this little room with God…the almighty God who created heaven and earth, My Lord, My Savior. I worried that it strained my faith. I kept thinking…I can’t believe I am sitting here in this little nothing room, nothing more than a lean-to on a pump house in the middle of nowhere, with God.

I wondered…I questioned…how this can be. I had to keep reminding myself that I choose to believe. That’s faith, choosing to believe.


I clenched my teeth and held my breath in an effort to suppress the tears as I thought, “How gracious of my God to allow me this honor”.

Thank you Lord Jesus

For letting me believe
What I cannot conceive

Strengthen my faith
And quicken the pace

Lord, take my hand
That I might stand

Be my guiding light
Throughout the fight

Don’t let me roam
But take me home

For this I pray
At the end of the day

Amen