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Recovering the Soul's Delight in Christ Through Fasting

By Alisa Rim

When it comes to fasting, some modern day Christians might say, “Why do we need to fast? Isn’t this an outdated practice reserved for ascetics? We live under grace. We don’t need to prove our love for God by acts of deprivation.” It’s true—we do live under God’s lavish, hope-giving, life-sustaining grace. To such critics I would point out that fasting is a clarifying and sanctifying experience, unique among the spiritual disciplines in its potential to help us understand what we treasure and what controls us. Much of what I believe about prayer and fasting has been shaped by John Piper’s theology of Christian hedonism. Pastor Piper convincingly argues that the believer’s highest and proper calling is to blissfully enjoy his relationship with Christ, and in so adoring Him, call attention to the awesome, beautiful and majestic nature of God in all of his perfections and glory. That may seem like a mouthful but the truth is that there aren’t enough words to adequately convey God’s power, beauty, worth, and excellency. How does this thinking about God relate to fasting? When we fast we declare to God, ourselves, and all the powers in the spiritual realm that God is to be desired more than anything in this world; we are more in love with Him than manna and He means more to us than our own physical comfort because He is supremely worthy.

C.S. Lewis once said that if our relationship with God has grown a little dull, it’s not because our spiritual appetites are too big, it’s because they are too small. Lewis is right. If seeking God is a burden instead of a pleasure, then our appetite for “the finer things in life” is suppressing our soul’s appetite for God. Ironically, it is not our struggles or weaknesses that hinder us from pursuing God; it is his blessings—the “innocent delights” that Piper cautions us to be wary of:

If you don’t feel strong desires for the manifestation of the glory of God, it is not because you have drunk deeply and are satisfied. It is because you have nibbled so long at the table of the world. Your soul is stuffed with small things, and there is no room for the great. God did not create you for this. There is an appetite for God. And it can be awakened (A Hunger for God 23).

I can relate to the pitfall that Piper describes. The Bridegroom has invited me to a glorious feast containing things rich and savoury beyond what I’ve tasted, but I’ve stuffed myself with bread and have no room for the main course. Distracted by trivial things, at the end of the day, I have no energy to pray, read, listen for and think deeply upon what God would say to me. So many things clamor for our attention—work, relationships, the incessant reminders from the world that we need to look good and live well and own nice things—that we simply cannot hear the still, small voice of God that leads us into all truth and satisfies our heart’s greatest longings.

Our responsibilities, commitments, and hobbies are not in themselves bad things. Even King Solomon, who was gifted with unparalleled wisdom, declared that such things are blessings from God: “I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God” (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13). Then again, this is the same person who also said, “Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” The problem is when we fail to order our priorities correctly and make our relationship with Christ first, then everything else loses its meaning. Fasting is a powerful antidote to the soul-numbing effects of entertainment, shopping, working out, cooking, traveling, decorating, and the other enjoyments of the world. Whatever the sacrifice (food, TV, material goods, etc.) willingly going without such comforts and enjoyments—legitimate though they may be—expresses our spirit’s true fulfillment in Christ. Fasting reminds us that we are sustained by his loving presence, not manna.

It is only natural to approach this fast with a sense of uneasiness. Fasting does not feel good. We will experience gnawing pangs of hunger and a sense of restlessness when there is only quiet, no mindless box discharging its white noise in the background. In these moments I hope and pray that God will translate our physical hunger into a deep, lasting spiritual one. That the restlessness and weakness we feel in our bodies would help us to understand our soul’s emptiness apart from Him. I venture to guess that some of us, upon first hearing of the fast were not very happy about going without TV for forty days and food once a week. If we’re totally honest, maybe there was even a twinge of resentment that this fast was being “imposed” on us. This is good because it means that God is already at work in our hearts, exposing the things that control us, the things we look to for security and to make us forget our troubles. As Richard Foster points out in Celebration of Discipline:

If pride controls us, it will be revealed almost immediately. David said, ‘I humbled my soul with fasting’ (Psalm 35:13). Anger, bitterness, jealousy, strife, fear—if they are within us, they will surface during fasting. At first, we will rationalize that our anger is due to our hunger. And then, we know that we are angry because the spirit of anger is within us. We can rejoice in this knowledge because we know that healing is available through the power of Christ.

Herein lies the mysterious, redemptive value of fasting. In desiring God more than food, we not only affirm Christ’s all-sufficiency, but we lay down our pride so that we can be humbled, healed, and restored.

Personally, what I find most difficult about fasting is that it completely screws up my agenda. The things I want to do with my body, time, and money get thrown out the window. And I think that’s precisely the point. In fasting God reminds me that my life is not my own; I was bought with price and am not a slave to my desires, but a slave to Christ. Listen to Jesus’ loving admonition to Peter after his resurrection: “I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18). Just as Jesus warned Peter about the kind of death he would experience, so too is this a warning to us that our discipleship will bring about a slow death of self. The fast will cause our flesh to kick and scream on its way to the altar; all the while our spirits will grow in rightful submission to Christ. This is a good thing.

During this season of Lent I encourage everyone to view the fast as an opportunity to prepare your heart for Easter and solemnly reflect on its significance and the wonderful Saviour who has redeemed us and given us purpose, freedom, and eternal hope. May He use this fast to liberate us from our attachment to lesser things and lovingly draw us into his highest will. Blessed be our precious Jesus.