Fasting and justice

“Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves? Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed and for lying in sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” (Isaiah 58:5–7)

During my junior year of college, I spent a semester overseas studying in London. This was not only my first experience living outside the United States, it was also my first experience living in a major city. As I traveled around London, I was faced daily with people begging for money. As a young Christian (and as a poor college student), I was not sure how Jesus wanted me to respond. Should I give the little money I had to everyone who asked? Should I ignore the beggars in order to make sure I wasn’t enabling any bad behaviors? I was torn, but I wanted to lean into compassion. I prayed for discernment, and decided that I would fast every Friday from breakfast and lunch, and give the money I would have spent on my food to someone I encountered on the street, praying that God would lead me to the right person.

I listened recently to a four-part teaching series on fasting by John Mark Comer, and really appreciated the fourth teaching of the series, which focused on Isaiah 58 and the connection between fasting and justice. Incredibly, Comer touched on the very dilemma that faced me as a young Christian in London. He talked about how the early followers of Jesus wrestled with how to care for the poor and hungry when they did not have refrigerators full of food the way we do today. Their solution was to fast regularly from a certain number of meals, and to share that food (or the money they saved) with those who were in need. Somehow, in all my years of practicing fasting, I had never made the connection between my experience in London and Isaiah 58, particularly verses 6-7: “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?”

Over the past four Pulse articles, I have tried to highlight the importance of fasting, which is a spiritually powerful but terribly neglected spiritual discipline. When you choose to abstain from food in order to pursue God, you will often find that He breaks other bonds that your flesh has over you, replacing those desires with a greater desire for Him. Secondly, you also discover that your prayers have greater power, and that you have a greater sensitivity to God’s voice and leading. And finally, fasting becomes a tangible way to seek justice by sharing your food and money with those who are in need. I encourage you to consider how you can make fasting part of a regular rhythm of your walk with the Lord.