A future and a hope

Every year, I do a salad fast during the first two weeks of June (the 1st through the 14th). This is a tradition that I started with my Father (my Heavenly Father) several years ago. And every year, I like to blog about what I learned during the fast.

Before I began this year's fast, I felt like God told me that this would be the most enjoyable fast I've ever had. He was right.

This year's fast was different because I made most of my meals (I only purchased six pre-made salads); here's a small collage of a few of the salads that I ate. I thought eating a homemade salad for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks for 14 days would be expensive, but it actually wasn't that bad. (I think the pre-made salads are more expensive, especially since by the time you eat them, you have to throw some of it out because it's spoiled.) Nothing spoiled. Nothing went to waste.

Making salads is a huge time commitment, and I honestly was reminded why I historically haven't enjoyed cooking: There's so much prep, cooking, and cleaning time involved in something that only takes a few minutes to eat. But for 14 days, I enjoyed the preparation, and I took delight in the aftereffects of cleaning (my sink wasn't constantly overflowing, and my apartment didn't stink). When I first started my fast and gazed upon the chopped vegetables and the colorfulness of my fridge, I thought to myself something to the effect of, "That's an adult's fridge."

Indeed, it was.

And I had fun. I used Romaine lettuce for most of my meals (because it lasts longer and is slightly more filling than Iceberg lettuce). I made my own croutons a couple of times (in the toaster instead of the oven, but hey, they were still crouton-esque). I think for every morning (or at least most of them), I chopped up a Gala apple, I added lettuce and usually raisins, and that was my breakfast. On the weekends, I tried a new version of my birth mother's tuna salad (and, for the first time, I chopped celery without peeling it first). A few times, I made mackerel salad, which I considered to be my personal culinary triumph. And twice I made what I affectionately refer to as "Raisinet" salad (raisins plus broken bits of fancy chocolate bark), because PMS. But I think the tastiest, heartiest meals I ate were what I think might be referred to as "kitchen sink" salads -- they had everything but the kitchen sink (I tossed materials into my bowl so that I would eat them before they spoiled).

This is the type of cool stuff that I've experienced ever since I let God be my only Father.

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11 in the New King James Version)

" ' For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' " (Jeremiah 29:11 in the New International Version)

Whenever I've fasted in recent years, I haven't really spent a ton of time in deep intercessory prayer (although there has been some of that) as much as I've been getting an overall picture of God's character... or maybe a picture of what my character needs to be. (And I've cried a lot... maybe due to physical hunger? maybe due to spiritual hunger? maybe due to the fast in general just kicking my butt?) During this particular fast, I think I caught a huge whiff of what God feels anytime He plans out our lives: tremendous joy in the preparation.

Jeremiah 29:11 is a Bible verse that I've seen and heard quoted pretty much ad nauseam for many years. (Especially at my editing job where I verify Bible verses all day -- trust me, everybody and their grandma quotes this verse.) So, it can be easy to blow it off because you've heard it so much.

But it's true.

You'll be amazed at how many meal ideas you'll get when you're hungry. All kinds of creative ways to prepare food will flood your thoughts when you're hungry. You'll plan meals like crazy when you're hungry. But they're good thoughts. They're good plans. You're thinking of ways that you can satisfy an appetite that needs to be satisfied. You're planning ways that you can save money. You're hopeful for the future.

God is the same way. I'm not the first person to compare Him to a chef in the kitchen. God is constantly at work behind the scenes, especially since He's already seen the future -- He's already IN the future.

And He doesn't waste anything. Here's another verse that's quoted ad nauseam but is always true:

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28 in the New King James, cuz that's my favorite version)

I couldn't help but notice that I ended up buying the exact amount of salad materials that I needed for my fast. Pretty much all that's leftover are a couple of almost-empty bottles of salad dressing and a mostly-eaten bag of croutons. I don't think that was an accident.

Another interesting thing that I noticed is that I mainly stuck to a few favorite ingredients: lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, shredded cheese, ham, hard-boiled eggs, and apples. I also used a bag of spinach, a box of chopped button mushrooms, and a couple of bunches of celery. At first, I had imagined myself going nuts in the produce section at Kroger and trying everything in sight, or maybe trying other people's salad recipes. But I ended up only sticking with my favorites. After all, I have a simple palate.

I think when God makes plans for me, when He thinks about my future, He's probably like, "Well, I'm designing Tirzah to be a worship pastor, so she needs to have some musical skills, some leadership skills, some shepherding abilities, some creativity, and some serious guts. If I deviate too much from that, she could lose focus or veer off course."

Yep. I'm a woman of limited interests.

Sometimes when I talk to God about my future, or when I'm thanking Him for bringing me this far, I'll hear the longing in His voice. He'll say something like, "Oh, child, this is only the beginning," or "Oh, child, you have no idea."

Nope. I don't.

Once, shortly before my fast, I was talking to God about the plans I had for my life -- the ones that never really came to pass -- versus His plans for my life. I used to want to be a novelist. I even got a college degree in writing. But my past attempts at writing a novel totally fell flat. I wrote short stories, and I submitted them to multiple places, but nobody published them. I wrote a play once, but nobody bought it. So, I was talking to God about my novel-writing dream (the one that's died), and He said that it was a pipe dream. Then He added, with a hiss of jealousy in His voice, "You're MY writer." Wow. I didn't realize that He had wanted that so strongly for Himself. I think all those skills I learned in college or in my attempts to get published will come in handy someday -- because He'll use them for His good. (Hopefully they're coming in handy now with this blog.)

Or maybe after I become a pastor vocationally, I'll get to publish some how-to books (like How to Not Spiritually Abuse People, How to Shepherd Diva Worship Leaders Who Always Show Up Late or Not At All, How to Lead People Graciously When You Really Feel Like Slapping Them Upside the Head, How to Embrace Loneliness, How to Cling to God as Your Only Parent, How to be Perpetually Single and Love It, or maybe How to be Yourself and Not Care What Other People Think).

Seriously. I don't know what all God has up His sleeve. But He's got pretty big sleeves -- the biggest sleeves in the universe. He's cooking up something good in my kitchen right now. He's thinking good thoughts about my future. He's making good plans for me. This gives me hope.

I don't think I'm used to feeling "hope." But I could definitely get used to it.