Try Fasting - By Dave Monck

Fasting from food has been a regular part of my walk with Jesus for several years. Most weeks I set aside a day when I don’t eat breakfast or lunch, and then I join in the family evening meal. At different points, I have fasted for a full 24 hours, and very occasionally for 48 hours. During holidays, I usually pause fasting. Recently, I only just started again after recovering from a broken leg, which significantly affected my stamina, resilience, and rhythms. In that season, pausing was important; it reminded me that spiritual disciplines are meant to form us, not flatten us.

I have usually fasted on the same day each week—often choosing the day when missing meals has the least impact on what I’m doing, with less chance of having to explain to people that I am fasting. More recently, however, I’ve sometimes moved my fast to align with something specific I’m praying for—such as the funding bid for our church plant being decided on Thursday 26th Feb. At other times, I’ve shifted the day simply to avoid awkwardness. I once went to a funeral wake on a day I was fasting, and there are only so many times you can refuse food from the bereaved without seeming rude.

My regular weekly fast has usually been on my own, or occasionally with my wife, Bev. Even then, we have often fasted separately because our weekly patterns differ. There have also been moments when we have fasted together as a team or small group—while praying for someone’s healing, for transformation in a particular situation, or for God to break through in a significant way.

In general, I don’t particularly enjoy fasting—I like my food! In the moment, I rarely feel “closer” to God. When I have fasted for longer stretches, though, I have grown in awareness of my own weakness and dependence on God, which has been a helpful nudge toward him. I’m not sure I can point to particular breakthroughs that I can clearly tie to acts of fasting. So a reasonable question might be: why fast? What’s the point?

A few answers emerge from both Scripture and experience.

Firstly, fasting seems to be more about posture toward God than about depriving myself of food. It is an offering of myself to him—a costly, sacrificial choice that doesn’t always make immediate sense, but represents a turning toward God. In Romans 12v1, Paul speaks of offering our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—our true and proper worship. Fasting, for me, is a way of embodying that reality.

Secondly, by fasting regularly I am choosing to rebel against a culture in which comfort is king. We live in a world where hunger is usually something to be solved instantly. To willingly embrace a little discomfort is to say that my deepest need is not immediate satisfaction, but honouring God. I find something quietly subversive about fasting. It points beyond the here and now, reminding me that there is an eternal God who is present and worthy of my devotion.

Thirdly, fasting is not essentially about outcomes, but about offering. Yes, there are times when I fast specifically while seeking God’s intervention in a particular area. But my weekly fast is less about results and more about obedience—an offering for God’s glory. In Gospel of Matthew 6, Jesus speaks about fasting as something expected—“when” you fast, not “if.” He also emphasises that it is for the audience of God, who sees what is done in secret. That reorients my motives. Fasting is not a tool to impress others or manipulate outcomes, but an act of quiet worship.

Fourthly—and perhaps more practically—the physical sensation of hunger becomes a prompt to prayer. When my stomach rumbles or feels empty, it reminds me of my dependence on God’s goodness. For those of us who can usually eat whenever we want, hunger gently turns my attention back to the One who sustains me.

Finally, as I fast and consciously offer myself to God, I find I become more attentive to him. It’s not that I hear God more clearly or more frequently, but the intentional act of fasting creates space within me. It heightens my awareness and availability. It slows me down enough to notice.

This isn't a comprehensive picture of fasting, but I hope it gives some food for thought.. Nor is it something I get right consistently. I have to examine my motives: am I using fasting as a disguised dieting tool? Am I secretly feeling smug about abstaining? Am I just ticking a spiritual box? Even writing this, I feel challenged to extend my regular fast to 24 hours, knowing that it often stirs in me a deeper hunger for God. 

I’m aware that plunging into fasting can feel like trying to take up running by starting with a half marathon. I was encouraged by someone who had never fasted before and simply began by missing their morning cup of tea. You don’t need to begin at the start of Lent, you can start small. Use this season as an invitation to try fasting, and see how it shapes your worship of God and your attentiveness to his presence.

By Dave Monck