Your next fast.

Weeks ago I casually mentioned to a coworker that Mardi Gras (also known as Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent begins) was next week, and of course Ash Wednesday is the next day. His eyes grew wide: “Lent already? I don’t even know what I’m giving up!”

He’s Catholic, so he always participates in Catholic-style Lenten fasting: No meat but seafood, no alcohol, plus one extra thing he’s gotta go without until Easter. (Plus his bishop gives him an exception for St. Patrick’s Day. He’s not Irish, but he still wants a Guinness.) He was stunned some years ago when I informed him Sundays are an exception to Lent—he wouldn’t believe me till he double-checked with his priest, who confirmed it’s true, but warned him, “Don’t go nuts with this knowledge”—don’t binge to make up for the days you abstained. He advised it’s probably a good idea to continue abstaining, even though it’s Sunday, just to keep your momentum going. Gotta admit there’s something to that.

Of course my coworker wasn’t prepared for Lent. Many aren’t.

Now if you’re a regular at a church which has an upcoming fast, they’ll usually give you a heads-up. (At one church I went to, many, many heads-up. Pastor really wanted all of us to participate. Misery loves company, I joked.) On the other hand if you’re not regular at all—if you’re a once-a-month attendee, or only do the holidays—they won’t get a chance to warn you, so you gotta mark your calendar. Which is tricky with “moving fasts” like Lent, ’cause it’s the 40 days (plus six Sundays) before Easter, and Easter moves all over the calendar, and if you can’t keep tabs on when Easter is, good luck with Ash Wednesday. It’s gonna blindside you like it did my coworker.

And you’ll notice for many people, when they’re not mentally prepared for an unexpected situation, they just won’t do it. They’re not the “fight” or “flight” type; they’re the “freeze” type, and just shut down. Drop a last-minute dinner party on them, and nope, they’re not going: “Oh, but I was planning to binge-watch [NETFLIX SHOW THEY’VE BEEN PROCRASTINATING THE LAST SIX YEARS, AND HONESTLY WEREN’T PLANNING TO WATCH TONIGHT, BUT HERE’S AS GOOD AN EXCUSE AS ANY TO START], and I’m in my sweatpants already, and… yeah, I’m gonna pass.” You could already tell they were gonna pass from the panicked look on their face.

It’s hardly a ne phenomenon. I imagine the people in Jesus’s Dinner Party Story, who likewise came up with pathetic excuses for why they weren’t coming, had a similar freaked-out look on their faces: “Oh I’m so not in the mood for this.” But then again, they weren’t in the mood for this when they got their first invitation.

The same is true for most people who know a fast, any kind of fast, is coming. They don’t wanna. So when you spring a fast upon them—“We have a major problem and we need you to pray about it, and if you can, maybe you could fast too?”—they’re gonna scramble for any reason to do no such thing. They’ll pray; that’s not the problem. They’re not gonna fast. They were really looking forward to eating that lasagna in the freezer. Yeah, it’s been there for the past six months, but suddenly, inexplicably, they have a raging desire for lasagna.

If any of this sounds like you: It sounds like me too. So here’s a wild thought: What if we don’t approach fasting with a bad attitude?

Planning ahead to fast.

Some people are naturally gifted with self-control. I am not one of those people. It’s not a common gift. Those people who brag about how they’re naturally self-controlled, most likely aren’t one of those people either. The few who actually are naturally self-controlled, never seem to notice. They just go through their daily life, and when everyone else is tempted to do something, they casually say, “Ooh! But no thank you.” And move along while everyone else is still salivating.

Nope, most of us have to work at it. Annoyingly, the only way to get better at self-discipline is, you guessed it, self-discipline. Which our flesh really doesn’t wanna do. Even after we’ve made serious attempts to master it. It’s always gonna take effort, because the flesh always doesn’t wanna. The flesh wants comfort. And no, not always physical comfort, as demonstrated by the gym rats I know, who love making their flesh ache with a good hard workout. We crave psychological comfort… which usually resembles physical comfort.

Well, planning ahead creates psychological comfort. If you don’t know when you’re next gonna fast, but you know you are gonna fast—you’ve at least determined this time you’re not gonna capitulate to your flesh—get ready for it. Then once that time comes, you won’t freeze, you won’t flail; you’ll figure, “Okay, I prepared for this,” and dive right in.

For Lenten fasting, it’s actually super easy: Sports. No March Madness, no Opening Day. That immediate visceral reaction you’re feeling right now?—“No! NOT THAT! Why’d you have to mention that?”—is the obvious sign you’ve made an idol of it, and can’t prioritize Jesus over it, so you kinda need to abstain from it. (And if you have no such reaction, it’s probably not that. But be honest with yourself. “I barely reacted” doesn’t mean maybe you still shouldn’t abstain from sports.)

In any case, I’m pretty sure you already know what you oughta abstain from. Certainly your spouse, parents, or kids do. And the Holy Spirit does, if you ask him. Figure out that thing, and the next time someone calls for a fast, there you go: That’s what you give up. No need to scramble for something to give up; it’s pre-planned.

For other kinds of fasting, like when your church decides to drop a Daniel fast on everyone: Prepare to put your usual diet on hold. Have some space in the back of the refrigerator, hiding behind everything you can eat, for everything you can’t yet eat. Be ready to suspend lunch and dinner plans where appropriate.

Basically, be mentally ready to fast. Just like you’re mentally ready for Jesus to return. You realize there are some Christians who aren’t mentally ready for that; who were really hoping they could rule the world instead of turning the keys directly over to Jesus. They’re gonna be horrified to discover he’s a bronze-skinned foreigner who believes in universal healthcare, and wind up resisting him. Gonna be interesting to see if Jesus still raptures any of them regardless. He may. But I digress: You need to get ready to fast, just like they need to get ready for Jesus.

And if your flesh is still very resistant to the idea of even getting ready to fast, start whipping it into shape. No, not literally. Skip a meal here and there. Skip desserts. Eat something healthy but bland. Remind it who’s in charge. Little acts of self-discipline and willpower can grow into bigger acts, so start working on ’em.

(Oh, and if you’ve skipped Lenten fasting so far: Nobody will penalize you for starting late. Jump in.)