A SCRIPTURAL INTRODUCTION
Our culture has bought into the propaganda of gluttony, believing we mustn’t allow ourselves to experience hunger. It doesn’t take a medical professional to recognize the over-eating trends in America. The CDC reports 69% of adults over age 20 are overweight. It could be surmised that much of the remaining population is engaged in chronic dieting and eating disorders. Food itself is not evil; we have willingly allowed it to master us.
“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but I will not be mastered by anything.
(I Corinthians 6:12-13)
Scripture is speckled with examples of fasting, comfortably alluding to its routine presence in the lives of God’s people. Old Testament Jews practiced regular fasts. These fasts were oftentimes held in conjunction with times of mourning or lamentation, repentance or intercessory prayer. (See Joel 2, Daniel 9, Jeremiah 36, Psalm 35, Esther 4, and I Kings 21.) These examples indicate the transformative nature of the discipline of fasting. Through the fast, participants may demonstrate their awareness of the distance they’ve strayed from the Lord’s guiding hand and their desire for His sovereign shifting of their lives. There is an anticipation of God’s work being done on earth as it is in heaven (Matthew 6:10).
Jesus himself fasted for 40 days, having been led by the Spirit of God into the desert (Matthew 4). The fast is an opportunity to rely more wholly on God, having removed the natural crutch of food from our lives. Just as Jesus faced the devil’s vicious attacks in the wilderness, temptations may come at us with increased intensity during our hours of fasting. We open ourselves up during a fast, willingly revealing our truest self. No longer are we masquerading behind a façade created by our satiated stomachs. It is in this place of vulnerability we face our biggest temptations head on, intentionally leveraging ourselves with the anchor of the Almighty.
Do we have to fast? Perhaps that is the wrong question to be asking. Instead of hobbling through life on our interpretation of the “bare minimum” of spiritual formation, shouldn’t we aim for total transformation of our fleshly selves? In the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), Jesus teaches on the subjects of giving, praying and fasting. In these three cases, he begins his instruction with the phrases, “When you give to the needy” and “When you pray” and “When you fast.” These disciplines are foundational to our faith, the hinges which open us to God.
This trio of giving, praying, and fasting are not presented as commands, but as assumptions – step one of Christianity. The media has allowed us to experience international poverty secondhand, and we are inspired to help. But are we willing to participate in the giving, to get our hands dirty and sit down and listen to the down-and-out? Most of us would rather send our credit card number and be able to mark “give to the poor” off our Christian To Do lists. And perhaps we can fake our way through the donation of money, sending money and feeling we’ve done good. But it is impossible to keep our distance in the practice of fasting. A fast must be experienced first hand. Yes, it’s hard; it’s weird; it’s uncomfortable. We’d much rather write a check than miss a meal.
In his mountainside sermon series, Jesus keenly observes the Pharisaical distortion of fasting, and lays out instruction for his followers.
When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
(Matthew 6:16-18)
Jesus calls for a reclaiming of the intimate nature of fasting. Our fasts should begin and end with God. We enter into the fast with a spirit of reverence, honoring the divine encounters we anticipate. Thus, a fast should be practiced in private (or as a corporate body fasting in unity). We should never allow ourselves to be put on a Christian pedestal, exalted for our dedication to God and our willingness to be disciplined. Receiving praise and honor from friends would mean moving the spotlight away from God and on to self, perverting the divine purpose.
Perhaps like the Pharisees, you notice that the disciples of Jesus weren’t participating in regular fasts like all of the other religious teachers of the day. Jesus answers this criticism with a wedding analogy (Mark 2, Luke 5), maintaining his place as the Bridegroom with the Church as his Bride. Why would the Bridegroom’s guests be mourning while he is still among them? That is, why should the disciples enter a state of sadness when the Son of God was in their midst? The reason for feasting was among them; the time for fasting would come. In these days, we keep communion God through the presence of the Holy Spirit, waiting in eager expectation for the return of Christ our King. Thus, it is right for us to be fasting. We enter a state of mourning His presence. We face our sins with an attitude of repentance. We desire encounters with God that can only come when we rid ourselves of selfish impulses to satisfy our fleshly cravings.
This discussion of fasting will continue with a look in the church history of the practice as well as with advice on how to incorporate the discipline of fasting into your own life.
