Last week I decided to finally do something I’ve pondered and mulled over for at least half a dozen years, but never mustered courage to go through with it. I decided to fast and pray.
I’ve coasted through most of my teenage and young adult life, not really knowing God. Don’t get the wrong idea; I have been a christian, but only in title and rarely in practice. I never really sought to deepen my relationship with God or even try harder than pray a couple of times a month and go to church once in a year or two. In other words, God just wasn’t a priority in my life, except when I needed something from him.
Isn’t it amazing that despite our human nature to seek God only for favours, he still helps us and loves us unconditionally? That in itself is our small miracle each and every day, but I digress.
Like I was saying, I decided to fast and pray 12 hours a day, for a week. Why? Well, true to nature, I needed something from the man upstairs. I needed him to bless me with a few things I’d rather not name in this blog.
I couldn’t eat or drink anything from six a.m, to six p.m. everyday. While those were some of the most excruciating hours of my life, I felt the closest I’ve been to God in a long time.
Many times I found myself fantasizing about a mouth-watering steak dinner, feeling hungrier by the minute. I would imagine how much face stuffing awaited me, how my stomach would magically surpass its natural elasticity to accommodate enough food to last for the entire next day. Yet the clock literally crawled through every second. Everyone at work seemed to think that was the best time to ask me if I wanted anything to eat from the store. My stomach made growling sounds loud enough that I’m sure our Canadian counterparts across the border heard. I never thought that week would end.
In those moments, I reminded myself of why I was giving up my comfort and what I stood 
to gain. I said several payers for grace and strength, peace, love, family, and so much more. I read scripture after scripture on morality and living in Christ. I started to look beyond myself and to see God in others. I found myself making efforts to be slow to anger and rich in mercy, to love and live the golden rule the best way I can. P.S. It’s not quite an easy thing to do, I’m learning that now. But faith the size of a mustard seed, Jesus says, can move a mountain (Matthew Chapter 17, Verse 20). I believe.
That was my breakthrough, my miracle.
And now that I’ve felt the Spirit work in me and the hand of God touch me, I want more.
Akanji 