He Is Risen—And So Am I: A Resurrection from the Fast
As Lent ends and Easter arrives, I find myself reflecting on more than just the completion of a 40-day fast. This journey has been about death—and resurrection. Letting go of what no longer serves me. Making room for what brings true peace. And allowing something holy to rise in its place.
The Fast Was More Than Just a Detox
When I began this dopamine fast, I thought I was giving up social media, alcohol, sex, and energy drinks. But what I really gave up was: The habit of chasing validation The craving for external highs The need to numb instead of feel The compulsion to escape discomfort instead of sit with it
The tendency to lose myself in emotional chaos
And what was resurrected in its place? Peace that isn’t circumstantial Discipline that doesn’t feel restrictive, but grounding Creativity that flows from within Presence with God, my children, and myself Self-worth that no longer needs to be earned This wasn’t just about removing what distracted me. It was about returning to what anchors me.
“The Old Has Gone, The New Is Here”
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here.” — 2 Corinthians 5:17 I am not returning to who I was before this fast. That version of me died—gently, slowly, in small moments of surrender. Every time I resisted the urge to scroll... Every time I chose rest over stimulation... Every time I faced a trigger with stillness instead of reaction... I laid something down.
And in its place, something new was born.
This Is Resurrection in Real Life The tomb I crawled out of wasn’t made of stone—it was built from old patterns. From the noise I used to need to feel alive. From the emotional highs that left me emptier than before. And now? I don't crave the chase. I don't spiral for attention. I don't need chaos to feel connected. Because peace gives me dopamine now. Because I am whole, even when things are quiet. Because resurrection feels like this: steady, sacred, and slow.
What I’m Carrying Forward This is not a return. This is a reentry. A reimagining of how I live. What’s coming back? Maybe I’ll check Facebook again—but not with the same hunger. Maybe I’ll enjoy a glass of wine with friends —but not to escape my feelings. Maybe I’ll engage in intimacy—but from a place of self-connection, not self-abandonment.
What’s staying gone?
Energy drinks - I realize I can power through without them, and have learned to listen to my body and rest when I need to.
The need to be validated through clicks or chaos. The habits that drained my presence and dulled my spirit. The belief that my worth is something to earn instead of something to live from.
God, thank you for what died. And thank you for what lives again. Let me never return to the grave You helped me leave behind.
Letting the Light In Easter is the promise that what dies isn’t the end of the story. And I am living proof of that promise right now. This detox wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But it was holy. It was resurrection in motion. So today, I celebrate a risen Savior. And I celebrate the resurrection He’s doing in me, too. I don’t just feel better. I feel new. God, thank you for what died. And thank you for what lives again. Let me never return to the grave You helped me leave behind.
