13 January 2026

Getting hungry for God. Literally.

FAST fast verb. Go without food [for God].
2. noun. A period of going without food [for God].

Whenever I talk to people about fasting, their knee-jerk reaction is “No food? No food? No FOOD? You’re outa your [profane adjective] mind.” After all, this is the United States, where a 20-ounce soda is called a “small.” In this nation, the stomach rules.

This is why so many Christians are quick to redefine the word “fast.” Fr’instance the last several churches I’ve been a part of, have annually done a 21-day “Daniel fast,” which I described elsewhere. It’s not a literal fast; nobody’s going without food. They’re only depriving themselves of certain kinds of food, depending on who writes up the Daniel fast’s menu. Usually no meat or sweets. But no hunger pains either.

Fasting, actual fasting, is a hardcore Christian practice. The only things which go into our mouths are air and water. In an “absolute fast” you even skip the water. Now, we need food and water. If we don’t eat, we die. And that’s the point: Push this practice too far and we die—but God is more important than our lives. That’s the declaration we make when we fast: Our lives aren’t as important as God.

Why would we do such a thing? For the same reason Jesus did it, when he went to the desert for the devil to tempt him. Mt 4.1-2, Lk 4.1-2 Fasting makes people spiritually tough. It amplifies our prayer and meditation by a significant factor, which is why it’s a common prayer practice. When we deprive our physical parts, and shift our focus to the spiritual parts, those parts get exercised; they get stronger.

We reject our culture, which teaches us we should never deprive ourselves of anything. We recognize God, not food, is our source of life. Our minds get better attuned to God’s will. We hear him better, because our bodies physically feel our need for him. We detect spiritual things faster. We discern the difference between good and evil better.

Yeah, fasting does all that. That is, when we’re praying as well as fasting. If you’re fasting but not praying, it’s time wasted.

Don’t get me wrong. Other forms of self-deprivation have the same effects. Dieting for God, or going without certain beloved things and hobbies, because God’s more important than any of our desires, can also achieve the same things as fasting. Just not as quickly; not as intensely. The stakes simply aren’t as high. Fasting is hardcore, remember? Going without bacon, as hard as that might be for you personally, isn’t life-threatening. (In fact it’s better for your health.) But though a small thing, it’s still a sacrifice, and part of the proper mindset: “God is more important than my palate.”

But do we gotta?

Still, talking to people about depriving ourselves of anything will make us balk. And a quick search of the bible will show us God never commands anyone to fast. So they’ll immediately say, “Hey, God never commanded anyone to fast, so I don’t have to!”

Okay yes, there’s one time in which God appears to order people to fast, and Christians will refer to that verse and claim God did so command a fast. Well, not really. God was rebuking Israel for fasting for all the wrong reasons—to look pious, but not love their neighbors like God wants. Actual context of that passage:

Isaiah 58.3-10 The Message
3“But they also complain,
‘Why do we fast and you don’t look our way?
Why do we humble ourselves and you don’t even notice?’
“Well, here’s why:
“The bottom line on your ‘fast days’ is profit.
You drive your employees much too hard.
4You fast, but at the same time you bicker and fight.
You fast, but you swing a mean fist.
The kind of fasting you do
won’t get your prayers off the ground.
5Do you think this is the kind of fast day I’m after:
a day to show off humility?
To put on a pious long face
and parade around solemnly in black?
Do you call that fasting,
a fast day that I, GOD, would like?
6“This is the kind of fast day I’m after:
to break the chains of injustice,
get rid of exploitation in the workplace,
free the oppressed,
cancel debts.
7What I’m interested in seeing you do is:
sharing your food with the hungry,
inviting the homeless poor into your homes,
putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad,
being available to your own families.
8Do this and the lights will turn on,
and your lives will turn around at once.
Your righteousness will pave your way.
The GOD of glory will secure your passage.
9Then when you pray, GOD will answer.
You’ll call out for help and I’ll say, ‘Here I am.’
“If you get rid of unfair practices,
quit blaming victims,
quit gossiping about other people’s sins,
10If you are generous with the hungry
and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out,
Your lives will begin to glow in the darkness,
your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight.”

Yep, the one time God instructs fasting, he’s actually telling people to obey his commands instead of practicing dead ritual in their place. God wants living religion, so the “fasting” God commands is a metaphor for obedience.


Hey look, it’s Charles Stanley talking about fasting! In Touch Ministries.

So because we’re never commanded to literally fast, many don’t. When their churches call for a time of prayer and fasting, they might do the praying, but they’ll skip any of the self-deprivation. Or they’ll “fast” in as minor a way as they can. Hey, they tend to skip breakfast anyway, so there y’go: “I’ll fast breakfast.” Won’t even miss it.

(Well actually: If you commit yourself to going without breakfast during an actual fast period, you’re gonna discover yourself inexplicably so tempted to have breakfast most mornings. You think the devil’s gonna pass up this fun opportunity to mess with your head? Get you to feel rotten about yourself because you can’t achieve such a small thing for God? Oh, you bet it’ll try to get you to slip this one up. Bacon and doughnuts everywhere.)

Thing is, Jesus presumed we will fast. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said Οταν νηστεύητε/ótan nistévite, “When you fast.” Mt 6.16 He’d’ve gone with “If you fast,” or “You really could fast.” Jesus deliberately picked an unambiguous word. He expects there’s gonna be fasting.

In Jesus’s culture, Pharisees fasted twice a week. Lk 18.12 Jesus didn’t necessarily expect his followers to fast that often, but the Didache, an ancient Christian manual, encouraged new believers to likewise fast twice a week—just not on the same days Pharisees did. But overzealousness aside: People fasted when they were in mourning. Someone died, or you were sorry for your sins. You lament; you don’t eat. Fasting sorta comes naturally. (As opposed to Jews today, who may sit shiva in lament, but family and friends bring ’em a whole lot of food.)

And our churches presume we’re gonna fast. Sometimes during regular fast times, like beginning-of-the-year fasts, like Lent and Advent. Sometimes for special revelation or dire needs. The leaders call everyone in the church to fast and pray. And if it’s our church, we should participate. If I fast and pray along with them, maybe God’ll tell me what he wants them to hear. More likely he’ll tell lots of us, and we’ll just confirm one another. But if I’m not fasting and praying along with the group, I’ll always wonder, “Is that really what God wants us to do?”—and live in unnecessary doubt.

I know; you might object, “Fasting is voluntary, and what business does any church have in turning voluntary things into mandatory things? That’s just legalism. We have freedom in Christ.” Yes, you do. Now stop turning “freedom in Christ” into your rubbish smokescreen for the real issue: You don’t wanna fast. Your stomach is more important than God.

I don’t blame you for not wanting to fast. It’s no fun, and I like food too. But when a church calls for a fast, it’s because the leadership is seeking God, and wants your help. If you’re not gonna help, go find a different church. One which doesn’t expect or want your help.

Nope, fasting isn’t mandatory. No good works are; we’re saved by grace. But now that we’re saved by grace, what does God expect of us? Good works. Ep 2.8-10 You know what’s a good work? Fasting.

How to fast.

Our only rule about fasting? Jesus’s ordered us to not show off.

Matthew 6.16-18 The Message
16“When you practice some appetite-denying discipline to better concentrate on God, don’t make a production out of it. It might turn you into a small-time celebrity but it won’t make you a saint. 17If you ‘go into training’ inwardly, act normal outwardly. Shampoo and comb your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face. 18God doesn’t require attention-getting devices. He won’t overlook what you are doing; he’ll reward you well.”

We need to avoid fasting in circumstances where our practice will be obvious.

So this means don’t fast on holidays. Don’t fast on Easter, when you’re expected to rejoice and celebrate Jesus’s resurrection. Sabbath is a holiday; whether your Sabbath is on a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, don’t fast; you’re allowed to rest, not stress out over food. Advent and Lent are fast days, not holidays, but they’re dotted with Sabbaths, so go ahead and rest from your fast on those days.

Don’t fast on days, or during meals, when you’re typically expected to eat with others, like a business lunch, family brunch, birthday party, dinner date, wrap party, or just dining with friends. Don’t figure you’ll just drink water and enjoy their company. For no matter how much you try to draw attention away from it, you not eating is gonna stick out like a bright red zit on your nose.

The point of fasting is to forego calories and draw closer to God. So why’re you going to any of these social functions anyway? Pray. Visit family and friends once you’re done fasting.

That said, any other fasting guidelines I have to offer are based on the purpose of fasting: Prayer, and growing closer to God.

Certain churches don’t declare a fast for that reason. They do it because they want to discipline the congregation: They feel you’ve been sinning, or aren’t repentant enough, or need to otherwise feel bad. You’re horrible sinners; you need to suffer. That sort of thing. And that’s not at all what fasting is about. Never was. Not even in the Old Testament, when people fasted in repentance. Then as now, they wanted to hear God. If fasting is used as punishment, or to exert the leaders’ authority, that’s abuse, and that church is a cult. Get out of there.

The leaders of any church should know fasts are voluntary, and that sometimes people are gonna skip a certain fast. Sometimes for valid reasons: They have low blood sugar, or they need to take their medications with food, or there’s a wedding coming up, or it’s Christmas. If fasting is gonna violate your health or your conscience, they should know better than to press the issue. And you shouldn’t violate theirs either: If they want to fast twice a week, let them. All of you should encourage the right spirit behind fasting: Seek living religion, and its emphasis on an interactive relationship between God and us. Not the brainless ritual of dead religion.

“Partial fasts.”

Like I said, self-deprivation can be good, and there’s nothing wrong with doing it for God. But Christians insist on calling these acts of self-deprivation “fasts,” or “partial fasts.” They’re awfully popular among American Protestants.

We go without one category in our diets—meat, dairy, bread, dessert, what have you. Or we give up a meal, like breakfast, brunch, lunch, teatime, dinner, or late-night snack. (And then we overcompensate in our next meal, like Muslims during Ramadan.) We may give up some calories for God, but that’s more dumb luck than intention.

A very popular “partial fast,” the one my church regularly practices, is called the Daniel fast. It’s loosely based on Daniel 10, in which Daniel mourned being unable to celebrate Passover in Babylon, and three weeks later (specifically on 23 April 556BC) God gave Daniel some freaky apocalyptic visions of the future restoration of Israel, with angels to help interpret the visions.

But Christians don’t care about this context, and focus only on Daniel’s “partial fast,” which we figure God rewarded by giving Daniel visions of the future. Well, we’d like some visions of the future. So if we go on this Daniel-style fast, maybe God’ll tell us stuff. Follow the formula, get the visions. Yeah, the idea we can reduce our relationship with God into formulas is a problem.

But again: If we’re doing the self-depravation for God’s sake, if we’re praying and seeking him and listening to him, he’s usually gonna answer whether we’re full-on fasting, sticking to a “Daniel fast,” or even just giving up doughnuts for a week. They’re not necessarily gonna be scary-but-hopeful End Times visions. (In fact, if God instructs you to give up the doughnuts permanently, that might be even scarier.) But don’t be surprised when he tells you stuff.

Well. Various Christians wanna duplicate Daniel’s “fast,” but none of their Daniel-fast menus come from the bible. They’re all someone’s idea of a tougher-than-usual diet… one they can live with. ’Cause that’s how all “partial fasts” work. They’re fasts we can live with. They’re custom-designed by and for us. You can swap ’em for something harder, like an “Ezekiel fast” where you eat nothing but bean bread cooked over cow feces. Ek 4.9-15 Or, y’know, actual fasting.

But no matter what we label it, self-deprivation isn’t a fast. It’s a diet. Our “meat fasts,” or “video game fasts,” or “coffee fasts,” or “Netflix fasts”—they’re attempts to sound more extreme or devout than we really are. To be blunt, calling something a fast when it’s not is hypocrisy. Don’t do that. Go ahead and diet for God. Just don’t call it fasting.