Been wrestling with fasting lately, whether it’s actually something believers today are called to practice on any kind of regular basis or more of a Spirit-led thing.
I don’t actually see much mention of Christian fasting outside of maybe Lent in my Church. For those who do fast, what does the rhythm look like? Set day each week? Tied to specific prayer needs, or more spontaneous when something’s pressing on your heart?
Also curious about the form. Skipping meals or a Daniel fast, or giving something up for a stretch of time like media or sugar. All of the above?
What is Christian fasting for you and should we be doing it?
The New Testament never commands fasting on a schedule. But Jesus said “when you fast” in Matthew 6:16, so he seemed to assume his followers would do it.
For a long time I avoided fasting because nobody could point me to a rule requiring it. Eventually I admitted I didn’t want to be hungry or find out what my appetites had to say once I stopped feeding them.
These days I mostly fast over specific things pressing on my heart. I did go through a season of skipping one meal a week, and that taught me more than the spontaneous fasts did.
Giving up sugar is a different thing from fasting. Going without food does something to me that giving up media never did. The praying feels like actual dependence on him. It’s still uncomfortable every single time.
I have a set weekday where I skip two meals and drink water. A few days of simple vegetables and water (a Daniel fast) also lets me stay functional at work. Because that rhythm exists, I can fast on short notice when something is pressing.
The cons showed up when I ignored my limits. A fixed day turns into clock-watching if I’m not actually praying. Fasting while sick or on medication made me irritable instead of attentive. When I only did it whenever my church happened to mention it, I never did it at all.
Christian fasting is voluntarily going without food for a stretch, sometimes on a schedule and sometimes when a need is on my heart. Believers should do it, not as one rigid program.
My grandmother always said an empty stomach teaches you where your trust lies, which is exactly why food fasting hits differently than giving up media.
Yes, I fast. Specifics, though. That’s where I stop.
Matthew 6:16-18 settles it. Jesus calls out the ones making a show of their fasting and says they’ve already gotten their reward from all that attention. The real reward comes from the Father who sees what’s done in secret.
So my fasting rule stays between God and me (and my spiritual father). Spelling out the details publicly would defeat the purpose.
I’ve kept them for about three years. I keep a vegetable garden, and that’s what drew me in. The ember days started in Rome tied to the farming year, so fasting the week the last tomatoes come in or the beds get put to bed for winter feels like it fits.
The rhythm is Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday: after St. Lucy’s day (Dec 13), after the first Sunday of Lent, after Pentecost, and after Holy Cross Day (Sept 14). The old mnemonic is “Lucy, Ash, Dove, Cross.” I put all twelve days on my calendar every January.
For the form, I skip two meals on Wednesday and Friday and go lighter on Saturday. Ember days were traditionally set aside to pray for those being ordained, so I use the meal times to pray for our pastor and for anyone discerning a call.
They’re short and seasonal, three days four times a year. The Anglican prayer book still lists them, and some Catholic parishes keep them too, so they’re not forgotten.
The Church received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. He has guided how believers fast, among other disciplines.
As Augustine put it, “the customs of God’s people and the institutions of our ancestors are to be considered as laws.” Practices shift over time, which is why your church might focus on Lent while others fast weekly.
Friday evening to Saturday evening works well if you want a 24-hour fast without it wrecking your week. Last meal around 5 pm. You wake up already 14 hours in, then make it through the day.
Setting aside physical comfort is what makes space for deliberate time with God.
Isaiah 58 wrecked my whole approach to fasting. For a long time it was a negotiation. I’d skip meals for a few days and expect God to hand over the answer I wanted, like I had paid in advance.
The people in that chapter are fasting hard and complaining that God isn’t noticing, all while they’re quarreling and mistreating their workers. I had to admit I was crankier with my own family on fast days than on any other.
Now whatever I’d have spent on those meals goes to someone who needs it.
Start small and specific. One skipped meal tied to one prayer burden, then evaluate the spiritual fruit.
The most helpful fasting season was a month where I fasted lunch every Tuesday while our family was discerning a major move. I made one concrete request before God and kept a small note in my Bible. By the end of the month, I had a quieter heart.
That’s a good test of fasting. Does it make me more surrendered and attentive to God, or more proud that I completed a religious challenge?
One skipped lunch with a specific concern in mind feels like a good place to start. I also want to notice how I treat people afterward. If I’m more patient and willing to help, that tells me something. If I’m hungry and short-tempered, I need to rethink the practice.
Nobody’s mentioned fasting together yet. That’s how a lot of it happens in Acts 13, where the church at Antioch was worshiping and fasting when they sent off Paul and Barnabas.
Our small group picked one shared day. A friend was facing surgery. Knowing others were hungry and praying at the same time kept me from quitting by noon. We broke the fast together that evening over soup.
