Why Fasting Still Matters — And What the Bible Actually Says About It

Fasting is a profound and meaningful practice. It was part of everyday life for the Israelites, for Jesus, for the early Christians, and for all Christians, for that matter. Jesus assumed that his followers were fasting and that they would continue to fast. In Matthew 6, he didn’t say, “If you fast.” He said, “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do,” because he knew we would be.

Only in the last 100 years or so has the modern world moved away from the practice. For most of the entire history of Christianity, fasting has been part of what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus. We see in scripture that it was a powerful part of Jewish culture and an accepted practice by the Israelites, the early church, and the church throughout the ages.

So what does the Bible actually say about fasting?

The first mention appears in Judges 20:26 — “Then all the Israelites, the whole army, went up to Bethel, and there they sat weeping before the Lord. They fasted that day until evening and presented burnt offerings and fellowship offerings to the Lord.”

This is the first time fasting is mentioned in the Bible, but there’s no formal introduction, no moment where its function is officially explained. It’s just there, woven naturally into the fabric of Israelite life. Fasting was part of their identity. We see it throughout scripture: the Israelites fasting, prophets calling them to fast. But to fully understand the purpose of fasting, you have to look at the context.

Since Lent is rooted in Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness, let’s start there.

You probably know this story well, but it’s easy to gloss over it and miss the bigger picture.

Before Jesus was led into the wilderness, something remarkable happened. In Luke 3, Jesus is baptized. As he was praying, heaven opened, the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove, and a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

This is a profound encounter with God. A huge, momentous spiritual event. Jesus has this powerful moment where God’s Spirit falls, and he is revealed as God’s beloved Son.

And then, at the beginning of Luke 4, Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, leaves the Jordan and is led by the Spirit into the wilderness for forty days, where he is tempted by Satan, rebuffs him with the Word of God, and then, right after his time of fasting, his ministry begins.

So: a profound encounter with God → a period of fasting → and then his ministry begins.

Now, for a second example of this kind of fasting.

When the Jewish community heard about Jesus fasting for 40 days, they would have immediately remembered another time someone fasted for 40 days, Moses.

In Exodus 24, the Lord called Moses up to the mountain to give him the Ten Commandments. We know the story, but here’s the part I had missed. In Exodus 24:15-16, when Moses went up to the mountain, the glory of the Lord settled on it, and Moses stayed there for six days. On the seventh day, the Lord called to Moses again, and Moses entered the cloud, went up the mountain, and fasted for 40 days and 40 nights.

Moses, just like Jesus, has a powerful encounter with God, begins a period of fasting, and then receives the Ten Commandments.

Do you see the similarities? Isn’t that the coolest thing?

Both have had a powerful encounter with God. Both have encountered God’s presence. Neither is asking God for something. Neither is seeking a specific result. Fasting just seems to be the appropriate response after having had a powerful, sacred moment in the presence of God. And then after this transformational encounter, both enter a period of fasting.

So what is the meaning or purpose of this kind of fasting? Sometimes it simply seems to be the right response after standing in the presence of God, after a defining moment, a crossroads. Jesus fasted right before his ministry began. Moses fasted right before he received the Ten Commandments.

Here are two more examples of this kind of fasting from the early church.

In Acts 9, Saul has an encounter with the Lord and can no longer see. For three days, he is blind, and verse 9 tells us he did not eat or drink anything. After three days, Ananias is led to Saul, lays hands on him, and Saul’s sight is restored. Here again, an incredible encounter with the Lord, a conversion, and a man who goes on to become one of the most significant leaders in the history of the church.

Later, in Acts 13, while the people were worshipping and fasting, not worshipping and praying, mind you, but worshipping and fasting, the Holy Spirit says, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” And here’s what’s so interesting: after receiving this word, the people fasted and prayed again, laid hands on Paul and Barnabas, and sent them off.

This is yet another transformational moment. This is the very first missionary journey being commissioned, a journey that would open the door to the spread of the Gospel like never before and change the face of the world.

So again, there is this pattern: fasting as the appropriate response to a profound encounter with God.

And just as an aside, liturgically, before we entered Lent, we left the season of Epiphany, a beautiful season where people like the Wise Men, Simeon, and Anna had a profound encounter with Emmanuel, God with Us. Doesn’t it make perfect sense that we would be entering a time of fasting right now? I think that is so amazing.

The next type of fasting we see in the Bible is fasting in response to a tragic calamity.

Over and over again, when a calamity is coming or has already taken place, the people of God fast. In Psalm 35, David fasts when a terrible sickness strikes his enemy. In Esther, the Israelites are urged to fast to avoid their destruction. Nehemiah grieves and fasts over the idolatrous state of his people’s hearts.

We also see fasting used as a means of spiritual warfare.

In Matthew 17, a man comes to Jesus because his epileptic son was brought to the disciples and they could not heal him. When the disciples later asked Jesus why they couldn’t heal the boy, Jesus said it was because of their unbelief, but also because “that kind only goes out through prayer and fasting.” Clearly, there are types of bondage and disorder that only break with prayer and fasting together.

And then there’s the last reason for fasting, and probably the one we’re most familiar with: turning away from sin.

In 1 Samuel 7, the Israelites turned back to the Lord. They put away their idols and repented. But it wasn’t enough on its own. Samuel ordered them to fast, and so for a whole day the Israelites fasted and confessed.

In Joel 2, God tells the people to turn back to him with their whole hearts, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.

It doesn’t seem to be enough to just pray sometimes. Fasting is required as well.

Scripture makes it very clear: as we turn away from our sin, we should fast. Fasting helps us turn more fully. But fasting also does something else: it reveals our sin to us.

When we fast, it becomes painfully obvious how out of control our appetites are and how much we are ruled by them. Ordinarily, I think I’m a pretty good person, a pretty good Christian. But during Lent, when I fast from something even ridiculously small like coffee, I become really aware of how much I struggle. And I am not exaggerating.

Through fasting, I see how much I rely on food and drink and not on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. The act of not eating brings me real discomfort and grief. I am reminded of my frailty. I realize how little control I actually have over my own life.

Through fasting, we are all choosing to embody that frailty, and according to the Bible, that does powerful things inside of us.

This kind of fasting is not about punishing ourselves. It’s about grieving, over the state of our hearts and the state of the world. And through this kind of fasting, we are asking for a result. And we get it every time: forgiveness.

In Joel 2:12-13, after the people have fasted and repented, the Lord says, “Rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness.”

So what’s our takeaway from all of this?

Fasting is an extraordinarily powerful tool. It is an embodied expression of prayer; fasting is praying with your body.

In today’s world, we tend to divide the spiritual from the physical. The spiritual is thinking and praying. The physical is eating. They are two separate things. But that is not how the Israelites understood themselves, and it is not how the church understood itself until very recently. To them, the spiritual and the physical are intertwined. Your whole body is involved in worship, in prayer, in your spiritual life. It is not enough to just pray; we need to fast as well.

That’s why I love liturgical traditions. We kneel, we smell, we taste, we feel, we fast. And through the season of Lent, the church gives us this ancient, irreplaceable opportunity to do it again.