Jesus says, "When you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do..." (Matthew 6:16). There is something revealing about that verse — it tells us that fasting was practised, but also that it could be misused. It is a practice with potential, but not a command with pressure.
That is where we begin: fasting is never commanded in Scripture. Prayer is. Again and again, the Bible calls us to pray. "Pray without ceasing," "Praying always with all prayer and supplication," "Watch and pray..." These are imperatives. But you will search in vain for a command that says, "You must fast."
Fasting appears instead in exceptional moments, tied to unique circumstances. One of the clearest examples comes when John the Baptist's disciples question Jesus: "Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?" (Matthew 9:14). In their minds, fasting twice a week was the mark of devotion — it was what devout Jews did. The Pharisee in Luke 18 even made a boast of it: "I fast twice a week." [1] But Jesus responded with something deeply revealing: "Can the friends of the bridegroom mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them?"
Fasting is not suited to every season. The presence of Christ was, for his disciples, a time of joy — not sorrow. Jesus taught that fasting fits those moments of grief, heaviness or spiritual burden. It arises in sorrow, not in celebration. You do not fast at a wedding feast. Fasting belongs to the dark valleys, not the sunlit peaks.
"But Jesus is no longer physically present with us." That is true — but he promised to send another Comforter, the Holy Spirit, to dwell with us and in us. He says, "I will come to you," and he has come. So, for the believer, Christ is real and constant. We live in the light of his nearness. That is why fasting is not the regular rhythm of Christian life — it belongs not to the everyday joy of walking with Jesus, but to the deep, burdened moments that come now and then.
Though fasting is not a command, it is linked closely with prayer. When it appears in Scripture, it is always in connection with prayer, never apart from it. Fasting is not an isolated discipline. It is part of those times when we find ourselves so caught up in prayer, so weighed down by concern, that food fades from our thoughts. Hunger does not even seem to rise because something deeper is taking hold.
This is not about self-denial for its own sake. Fasting is not virtuous simply because you have skipped a meal. There is no spiritual merit in just not eating. But when the heart is overwhelmed, when prayer becomes urgent and tears are close, fasting may come naturally — as the soul cries out and the body forgets its appetites.
These are times of importunity — an old word meaning earnest, relentless pleading. Fasting belongs to those moments of deep spiritual urgency, where prayer is not polite or routine but intense and undistracted.
I can tell you from my own experience: when crisis strikes, when burdens press in — fasting often follows. It is not planned; it just happens. The hunger of the body is drowned out by the ache of the heart.
So perhaps the question is not, "Should I fast more?" but rather, "Am I praying with the kind of depth and urgency that might lead me to fast?" If we were more often broken in prayer, more often wrestling in the presence of God, then fasting might not need to be planned — it might simply occur.
In the end, fasting is a response, not a requirement. A response to sorrow, to need, to spiritual weight. And always, it is tied to prayer. That is where its value lies — not in denying ourselves food, but in seeking God with all our hearts.
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[1] Under the Old Testament Law, there was only one fast that was explicitly required by God: The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). This was to be observed once a year. It was a solemn day of national repentance. Leviticus 16:29–31 and 23:27–32 speak of it as a day to "afflict your souls," which was to involve fasting. This was the only fast mandated in the Mosaic Law.However, over time, additional fasts were added by the Jewish people, particularly in response to moments of national crisis or mourning (see Zechariah 7:3–5). These were not commanded by God but arose from custom and tradition.
By the time of Jesus, the Pharisees had taken this much further. As part of their religious display of piety, they fasted twice a week — traditionally on Mondays and Thursdays (see Luke 18:12, where the Pharisee boasts, "I fast twice in the week"). This practice was not based on God's law but on human tradition, rooted in the belief that such visible acts of self-denial signalled greater holiness or devotion.
The required fast under the Law was once a year, while the Pharisees, in their zeal for religious display, fasted twice a week as a tradition — not as a divine commandment. Jesus confronted this kind of external, performance-based spirituality in passages like Matthew 6:16, reminding us that the heart matters far more than the ritual.