Fasting God Desires

Matthew 6:16–18 ESV

16 “And when you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, 18 that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

Fasting That Honors God

What is fasting, and why was it practiced?

Fasting is the intentional act of abstaining from food or drink for a set period of time for a spiritual purpose. In the Old Testament, we see three primary reasons for fasting.

1. Fasting as a response to grief or loss Fasting often accompanied mourning over death or tragedy. This kind of fast sometimes included tearing one's clothes or wearing sackcloth — external signs of internal sorrow.

2. Fasting as a plea for God’s help We also see fasting in moments of desperation, as a way of seeking God’s intervention. Think of Queen Esther and her people fasting when Haman’s plot threatened their very lives. It was a cry to heaven for mercy and deliverance.

What about the Daniel Fast? In Daniel’s story, his refusal to eat the king’s food wasn’t about physical health but spiritual conviction. The royal food likely violated Jewish dietary laws, so Daniel and his friends ate only vegetables and drank water — a choice of obedience, not nutrition. Ironically, in Daniel 1:14–16, this “restricted” diet made them healthier and stronger than the others. Today, some adopt the “Daniel Fast” for physical health, but we must remember: Daniel’s goal wasn’t weight loss — it was faithfulness.

3. Fasting as a response of repentance and confession Fasting also served as a physical expression of spiritual humility and sorrow for sin. God commanded fasting on the Day of Atonement — a time for Israel to reflect on their sin and God’s provision to remove it. Leviticus describes it as a time to “afflict yourselves,” a phrase closely associated with fasting and repentance. The purpose was clear: to be cleansed, purified, and restored for worship and fellowship with a holy God.

But here’s the problem: we often take something sacred and reduce it to a ritual. We miss the bigger picture.

God addressed this through the prophet Isaiah. In Isaiah 58, the people were fasting — going through the motions — but they were still mistreating others, pursuing selfish gain, and ignoring injustice. They thought the act of fasting alone would please God. But God wasn’t interested in their hollow hunger; He wanted heart-level obedience.

“Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight… Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high.” (Isaiah 58:4)

Isaiah 58:6 ESV

6 “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?

Their problem wasn’t that they fasted — it was that they forgot why they fasted. The act was there, but the heart wasn’t.

So as we consider fasting today, we must be careful not just to check a box or pursue a feeling of spiritual discipline. True fasting honors God when it flows from a heart inclined to obey Him in every area — not just food, but justice, kindness, repentance, and worship.

Point 2: Practicing Righteousness in Response to Grace

At the time of Jesus, fasting had become a regular and visible expression of piety. The disciples of John the Baptist fasted regularly, and the Pharisees were known to fast twice a week. When questioned about why His own disciples did not fast like the others, Jesus responded with a parable: “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them?” (Matt. 9:15). In other words, the presence of Jesus was a time for feasting, not fasting. But He added that the time would come—when the bridegroom was taken away—when fasting would again be appropriate.

Today, though fasting is not commanded for New Testament believers, we do see it affirmed and practiced in the early church. It is a discipline that is blessed by God, and when approached rightly, it serves as a meaningful expression of devotion.

There are different ways fasting can be practiced: the normal fast, which is abstaining from all food but not water; the partial fast, which involves avoiding certain types of food; and the absolute fast, in which one abstains from both food and drink for a short, intense period. Under grace, we are no longer bound to observe ritual fasts tied to the Jewish calendar or mourning customs. Instead, in the New Testament, fasting is primarily emphasized as a personal response of devotion—often in seeking God’s guidance, interceding in prayer, or drawing near in a focused way.

But we must be careful not to treat fasting as a spiritual bargaining chip. It's not the Christian version of a child holding their breath to get their way. Jesus includes fasting alongside giving and prayer as part of the "acts of righteousness"—expressions of faith that flow out of a transformed heart. All three are to be rooted not in manipulation, guilt, or performance, but in gratitude.

In giving, we reflect the generosity we’ve received from God. In prayer, we submit to God's will, seeking His kingdom and trusting His character. In fasting, we willingly set aside physical needs and desires for a time to focus on what has eternal value.

All of these flow from a heart that has been gripped by grace. If we fast—or give or pray—for any reason other than as a response to God’s love, we’re putting the proverbial cart before the horse. God’s grace must be our foundation. The righteousness that motivates these acts is not our own, but the righteousness of Christ, freely given through His death and resurrection, received by faith.

That said, grace is not the only motivation mentioned in the text. Jesus also speaks of reward. This reward isn’t something we demand or chase after—it’s not a prize for performance—but a gift from our Father who delights in the obedience of His children. The reward is not the point—the Father is. We fast not to earn favor, but to please the One who sees in secret and who has already lavished His favor on us through Christ.

So how can you incorporate fasting into your walk with God?

Start with something simple and intentional. Decide in advance what you’ll abstain from, and for how long. Plan well. But more importantly, focus on what you’re turning toward—not just what you’re giving up. Set aside intentional time for prayer, Scripture, and reflection. I encourage you to journal during your fast and ask: What is God teaching me? What am I longing for? What am I learning to depend on Him for?

And when your fast ends—celebrate. Receive food again with thanksgiving. There’s something profoundly spiritual about realizing how good even simple gifts are when you’ve gone without them. That first bite after hunger can become a sacred reminder of how all good things come from a generous Father.

Spotlight or Light of the World?

For our final thought, let’s focus on Christ’s warning about fasting. Even this spiritual discipline—intended to deepen our walk with God—can be twisted into something self-serving. Instead of a private act of devotion, it becomes a public display. Jesus confronts this in Matthew 6, warning that fasting can easily become another “hey, look at me” moment.

If you’ve ever been around a young child, you know the phrase: “Watch me!” “Look what I can do!” It’s normal—and even delightful—for children to crave attention. As parents, we affirm them, clap for them, and encourage them. But when that attention-seeking attitude carries into adulthood, it’s a sign that something deeper hasn’t matured. The desire to be noticed doesn’t always fade—it just becomes more sophisticated.

There are real psychological reasons for this. Some people may not have felt affirmed growing up, so they seek constant external validation to fill that gap. They chase praise to feel valuable—until the feeling fades and they need another hit of attention. Social media has amplified this struggle, often feeding a subtle (or not-so-subtle) narcissism. A tool created for connection becomes a platform for comparison. We start craving the likes, approval, and applause of others—and if we’re not careful, even our spiritual lives can become another stage for performance.

Jesus knows these temptations. That’s why He calls us to fast in secret—so secretly that others don’t even realize we’re doing it. He points to the religious leaders of His day who disfigured their faces and made themselves look miserable just to gain sympathy and admiration. Their fasting wasn't for God; it was for attention.

Before we close, we should address a question that naturally arises: Doesn’t this contradict what Jesus said earlier in the Sermon on the Mount?

Matthew 5:16 ESV

16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

In Matthew 5:16, He said, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” So which is it? Should we be visible or hidden?

The answer is that these are not contradictions, but complementary truths.

In Matthew 5, Jesus is talking about the natural visibility of a transformed life. When God is truly working in us, people will notice. And when they do, they should see evidence of His goodness. For example, just this week I took the church van to one of my favorite workspaces—my local coffee shop (they have amazing blueberry muffins and free refills). As I was working with my headphones in, a group of ladies tried to get my attention. They recognized me from the church van and a newspaper article about our church. They were kind enough to introduce themselves and talk about our mutual passion for reaching the community—especially kids.

That’s Matthew 5 in action. People saw something and made a connection—not because I announced it, but because they noticed. When we publicly identify with Christ, people are watching. And hopefully, they’ll catch us in the act of doing things that reflect His grace—acts of kindness, generosity, truthfulness, and love.

But Matthew 6 offers a different warning: when we take that spotlight and intentionally turn it onto ourselves, we’ve crossed a line. That light, which is meant to reflect God’s glory, becomes a mirror for self-promotion. Instead of giving glory to God, we subtly (or not so subtly) seek to receive it for ourselves.

That’s the difference: One is a reflection, the other is a performance. One says, “May they see Christ in me.” The other says, “May they see me... and be impressed.”

Both truths matter deeply in the Christian life. We are called to shine the light of Christ—not so people will look at us, but so they will look through us to Him. And if they do look at us, may they see Jesus, not a poor imitation or a performance built on pride.

Closing

Let me close with a story from the life of George Whitefield, the great evangelist of the 18th century. Before he ever preached to thousands, before revival swept across England and the American colonies, he was just a 16-year-old young man—deeply convicted of his sin and desperate to find peace with God.

He tried everything religion could offer. He wrote, “I fasted for 36 hours twice a week. I prayed formal prayers several times a day and almost starved myself to death during Lent, but only felt more miserable.”

Whitefield was doing all the right things—acts of righteousness, intense discipline, and deep sacrifice—but his heart was still lost. It wasn’t until he met Charles Wesley, who gave him a book pointing him to Scripture, that everything changed. Whitefield finally understood Jesus’ words in John 3: “You must be born again.”

Through the work of the Holy Spirit, he came to real faith in Christ—not based on his fasting or prayer life, but based on grace through faith. And from that moment on, he never got over it. As a preacher, he proclaimed the message “You must be born again” over a thousand times because he knew what it meant to live under the weight of religious performance and what it meant to be freed by grace.

Here’s the takeaway: fasting, like giving and prayer, is not the starting line of the Christian life—it’s part of the response. It flows from the heart of someone who has already been transformed by grace. It’s not a way to earn God’s love, but a way to respond to it.

So before we fast, before we give, before we pray—we need to ask: Am I doing this to be seen? Am I trying to earn something from God? Or is this a response to grace?

Let’s not put the cart before the horse. The acts of righteousness that Jesus teaches us are meaningful, beautiful, and life-shaping—but they are not the source of salvation. They are the fruit of it.