Throughout the winter, I (Matthew) watched as Amy diligently fasted and prayed with God. She would close our bedroom door in the evenings and spend hours worshiping, waiting, and listening to Him. When she finally exited our room, her face would radiate with joy as she shared the words God had spoken to her in the quiet place. I longed to join her, but it was such a struggle for me both physically and mentally. I couldn’t fast like Amy. I would starve all morning and then break my fast by noon. Even when I tried to pray I couldn’t seem to concentrate. My mind was restless and void.
“Amy, I don’t know how you’ve managed to fast this long,” I say enviously.
“I think it’s because God has invited me to fast and pray,” Amy answers. “Therefore I have the grace to accomplish His will. Trust me Matt, without God’s grace I don’t think I could’ve done this either.”
Back then, I didn’t understand what Amy was trying to say. That is, until I got a taste of this grace for myself.