Fasting is one of those spiritual practices that challenges me in a way few things can. It’s not just about going without food. It’s about facing the deep pull of my desire for it—especially since food has come to hold so much meaning in my life. Food is more than sustenance; it’s a way to cope, a way to celebrate, and a way to connect.
Scripture describes fasting as a powerful means to draw closer to God. Isaiah 58:6 tells us, “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?” Fasting isn’t merely a denial of physical needs, but an act that breaks through spiritual barriers between us and God.
In truth, the act of fasting highlights a spiritual tension within me. My desire for food isn’t just about physical hunger; it’s often linked to my emotions, my memories, and my community. Food is a part of how I celebrate life’s joys, comfort myself in grief, and connect with others during times of mourning. It’s a coping mechanism that’s socially accepted, almost universally understood. Food offers a sense of security, warmth, and community, which makes it even harder to let go.
This is exactly why fasting is so powerful—it requires me to confront all the ways I use food as a stand-in for God’s comfort. When I choose to fast, I’m choosing to let go of the worldly comforts I’ve built up and lean fully on Him instead. It’s a moment to realize, as Jesus said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). Fasting gives me the chance to test where I am drawing my true nourishment and satisfaction.
But the challenge of fasting is constant. The physical craving for food is real, and the urge to turn to it, to satisfy myself, to comfort myself, is a strong pull. I often feel the tension of longing for what I’ve given up, while also wanting to honor my commitment to God.
In fasting, I give up something meaningful to me. And even though it’s difficult, that sacrifice becomes an offering to God, a way to say, “You, Lord, are more important than my comfort. You are the source of my true sustenance.” Fasting reminds me that nothing I consume on earth could ever fill the emptiness that only He can satisfy. This month, as we consider fasting, know this: It’s normal to feel the tension, to struggle with the pull of food and the habits built around it. But remember, this discipline is a gift you get to give back to God… an opportunity to set aside what’s easy in order to draw closer to what is holy and good.
-Pastor Tony