Fasting: An Invitation to Discomfort

I’m early days into a three-week Daniel fast. If you’re not familiar with this, it’s a fast that lets you eat (yay!) – but only fruits, veggies, grains and nuts. For a small percentage of health-conscious folks, this is a piece of gluten-free, no-sugar-added cake. For the rest of humanity, it’s a very different and difficult story.

And it’s supposed to be difficult. Fasting is an invitation to discomfort. It asks, “What comforts are you addicted to? Are you willing to sacrifice those comforts for a greater goal?”

I am a Self-Preservation type. Among other characteristics, we SP folks like our comfort. We surround ourselves with comfortable, comforting things, and we focus on having ready access to comfort foods. For instance, I look forward to my homemade hot chocolate (half A2 milk, half Coconut Dream, sweetened with stevia and coconut sugar) at the beginning AND ending of each day.

Well, the Daniel fast doesn’t allow dairy, meat, yeast or any sweeteners (not even honey). So, the comfy hot chocolate is out. I actually don’t miss it that much, but only because I’m so freakishly hungry all day that I just want to feel full at some point.

I’m one of those freaks of nature who doesn’t feel satisfied by fruits & veggies. My metabolism burns through them and asks, “Okay, what’s REALLY for lunch?” Salad makes me hungrier than before I ate it. Grains only marginally slow this process. Fatty protein is what my body craves, and that is not on the menu for the next 18 days.

So, it’s good that this fast is hard. Because every time I feel that hollow, I-can’t-eat-one-more-carrot feeling, I am reminded of why I’m fasting, of what I’m really hungering for: more of God.

I am also being reminded of the dominant Self-Preservation instinct that drives so much of my behavior. It’s why I have the nickname “The Walking Picnic,” never leaving the house without my water bottle and a stash of snacks in my purse. It’s why I hate camping – so uncomfortable! It’s why I’d rather stay home within the cozy nest I’ve created and host people rather than go out to them.

Fasting also challenges my Enneagram Seven personality type. When I fast with just liquids, I deal with the discomforts of hunger, fatigue, chilliness and low blood sugar. With a Daniel fast, I am confronted by my desire for variety, for different tastes and textures, for a limitless and variable tableful of choices. Sevens love to have many options and hate feeling deprived.

That’s because our Basic Fear (see “The Wisdom of the Enneagam”) is of being trapped in lack or pain. So, as I struggle to satiate my weird metabolism, I must acknowledge the fear this situation causes. It’s also a call to faith. Do I believe God will sustain me? Do I understand that this hunger, though unpleasant, won’t kill me? Am I willing to take time to feel all the feelings that are coming up without identifying with them such that they rule me?

Yes, yes and yes. So then, fasting—whatever form it takes—is about so much more than not eating, or not eating or doing certain things. It’s a beautiful stepping away from the normal autopilot of our lives to not only draw closer to God but to our own seves, to know each in new ways.

The sacrifice, the discomfort, is totally worth it.

How about you? Each Enneagram type will have its own challenges when it comes to fasting. What’s been your experience? What wisdom have you gleaned for yourself and others of your dominant instinct and/or personality type?

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