Coming Clean

photo by Emma Wilson

photo by Emma Wilson


It's Monday, May (the) 4th (be with you).

Starting tomorrow, I'm entering the before-now-unexplored-by-me waters of a real live fast. Not food, even though that sounded the coolest at first, but two things that are probably playing a big part in the unrest of my soul. 

Here we go.


If I'm gonna be #liveauthentic right now, I'm feeling kind of icky. Kinda of cluttered, kind of distant, kind of scattered. But at the same time, claustrophobic. It's not like THE WORST THING EVER, but it's enough to make me antsy.

I've slimmed down my closet. I've paid my bills (early). I've confessed sin. I've organized and reorganized my sock drawer. But something is going on. I'm telling you about it because if I don't speak up, I think it will only get worse. I'm already in dangerous territory-- I've become pretty cynical and I'm starting to put walls back up that the Lord has spent a lot of time breaking down. 

Last week, I wrote about praying through hard stuff and how Jesus prayed in the garden the night he was betrayed. I wrote about it, fully believe in it, encouraged you to join in it. But I haven't done it. Nope. Not once. Not in weeks. 

Here's my confession: I'm pushing back at Jesus because I don't want to deal with truth. I am subconsciously (but actively?) shutting down my heart to brace for something I'm afraid will hurt, and in doing so am shutting out the One who will actually be able to ease the pain. 

I'm not praying through the hard stuff. I'm trying to ignore it.


I think I just admitted that to myself at the same time I was admitting it to you.

So what does it look like to repent? I honestly don't know, and I'm not going to get on a soap box and preach about it until I do. So maybe there will be a mid-week post update after I've learned something and actually applied it.

Incidentally, I am currently reading Jen Hatmaker's book 7. It's a book about cutting down on excess and letting God in, for real. I'm on chapter three and my world is already shifting. I want to get rid of half my possessions and eat nothing but bread for six months. Not really. 

But almost.

Because I'm getting desperate. I feel bad habits coming back and I don't want them to, but I also don't feel motivation to do anything about it, really. I need an awakening, and I want to ask for it. But what happens when I do?

As it turns out, fasting comes highly recommended by two of my favorite authors. I've read a lot about fasting this week. Not coincidental, I'm sure.

A fast might be just what I need. And after I've done that, whatever it looks like, I'll get back to you.