My Church is fasting  this month, as part of our annual Oktoberfast. (Yes, we live in Wisconsin.) Tomorrow begins the most rigorous of all, the five-day, no food at all, “Lawd ha’ Mercy” fast.

Fasting without prayer, my pastor likes to say, is just not eating food. So we’re also holding a 24-hour prayer room open at our church building, with people booking one-hour slots all around the clock; and we’ve got a devotional booklet as well.

We’ve been stripping things away all month; the first fast was from meat, media (much harder than meat for me), and other delights like sweets. The idea was to learn to see the world without the little distractions we fill our lives with.

Next came a dinnerless fast, where we didn’t eat after 6 PM; then a no-food-before-six fast. Each of these extended from Monday through Friday.

Now the Lord Have Mercy fast, with no food (liquids are fine) till a corporate lunch at noon on Friday, where we’ll be break-fasting with stories from our month.

It’s important to remember throughout this whole list: it’s prayer that holds this all together.

Fasting gives us little pangs of desire, all the time. The empty stomach, the howling empty silence where I normally gorge on media, and the impulsive, popping nice things in my mouth. (For instance, I’m currently trying to bribe a toddler out of diapers with chocolate chips for every successful use of the toilet; when I give him a chip, it’s almost natural to eat one myself, because it’s there.

But as one goes before God, and asks to be renewed, and asks to be shown what God wants to show me, fasting helps open ones ears and eyes. It’s hard, but it’s good, and time-honored, and it works so much better in community. I recommend it heartily.

But I can’t wait till Saturday. And I still resent you, flaunting your coffee on the street in front of me.