Most pastors know what it is to be hungry in ways a meal can’t fix. You pour yourself out on Sunday, sit with a grieving family on Tuesday, untangle a staff conflict on Wednesday, and by Friday there is a hollowness underneath the busyness that no amount of rest seems to reach. When that happens, it is tempting to go looking for a spiritual technique that will fill the tank again.
Fasting is sometimes offered that way, as a kind of reset button for the weary soul. But Jesus never taught it as a technique. He taught it as a way of seeking the Father, and that difference matters a great deal for those of us who spend our lives feeding others.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks about fasting the same way He speaks about giving and prayer. He doesn’t say if. He says when:
“He sent an angel who touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you” (1 Kings 19:7).”
“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:16-18)
Jesus assumes His followers will fast. His concern is not whether we do it but who we do it for.
That is a pointed word for pastors. So much of our spiritual life happens in public. We pray out loud, we open the Word in front of people, and our faithfulness is, in some measure, part of the job description. Over time it becomes hard to tell where our devotion ends and our performance begins. Jesus offers us something here that ministry rarely does: a practice that is meant to be seen by no one but the Father. There is real freedom in that. A hidden fast is one place where you are not the pastor. You are simply a son or daughter, hungry for your Father, and He sees.
When Jesus fasted in the wilderness for forty days, the enemy came to Him at the point of His hunger. His answer was drawn from Deuteronomy: “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).
Fasting doesn’t earn anything from God. What it does is expose what we have been living on. When the ordinary comforts are set aside, even for a day, we quickly discover how much we have leaned on them to carry us. The irritability, the distraction, the reach for something to fill the gap: all of it reveals the places where we have been fed by something other than the Father.
Later, when His disciples urged Him to eat, Jesus said, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work” (John 4:34). That is the invitation of fasting. Every pang of hunger becomes a small reminder to turn back toward the One who actually sustains us. For pastors who have been running on adrenaline, obligation, and the approval of others, that turning can be deeply clarifying.
Before going further, it is worth being honest about something. If you are truly exhausted, fasting may not be the first thing God is asking of you.
When Elijah collapsed under the broom bush, spent and ready to quit, God did not call him to a fast. He sent an angel who touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you” (1 Kings 19:7). God fed him and let him sleep, twice. Only then, strengthened by that food, did Elijah travel forty days and nights to meet the Lord at Horeb.
Sometimes the most faithful thing a depleted shepherd can do is eat a real meal and go to bed. Fasting is a discipline for those who are hungry for God, not a punishment for those who are running on empty. If your body and soul are already at the edge, begin with stewardship of the body God has entrusted to you (1 Corinthians 6:19), and let the practice of fasting come in its season.
For those ready to take up this discipline, here are a few ways to begin well.
1. Name what you are hungry for.
Before you set aside food, set aside a few minutes to ask what you are really seeking. Is it direction for a decision in front of your church? Repentance? Simply nearness to God after a dry season? You don’t need a perfect answer, but a fast with a focus tends to become prayer rather than endurance.
2. Start where you are.
There is no spiritual prize for the longest fast. Skipping a single meal, fasting from sunup to sundown, or setting aside a particular food for a season are all faithful places to begin. If you take medication, manage a health condition, or have a history of a difficult relationship with food, talk with your doctor first, and consider fasting from something other than food, such as media, your phone, or another regular comfort. Caring for your body in this way is not a lack of faith. It is honoring what God has given you.
3. Keep it hidden, but don’t keep it alone.
Jesus warns us against fasting for an audience, not against letting someone walk with us. Your spouse will likely notice you missing dinner, and a trusted friend or fellow pastor can pray for you and ask how it’s going. The difference is between accountability and advertisement. Tell the few who need to know. Leave the rest between you and your Father.
4. Turn hunger into prayer.
Use the time you would have spent eating to open Scripture and pray. When the hunger comes, let it be a prompt rather than a distraction: Lord, I need You more than this. Short, honest prayers offered throughout the day are often more fruitful than one long session.
5. Let the fast turn outward.
Through Isaiah, God rebuked His people for fasting while ignoring the needs around them, and described the fast He chooses as one that looses the chains of injustice, shares food with the hungry, and provides the poor wanderer with shelter (Isaiah 58:6-7). A fast that draws us closer to God will also soften us toward people. Consider giving away what you would have spent on meals, or using some of that time to reach toward someone in need.
6. Break the fast gently.
End with a light meal and a moment of thanksgiving. Resist the urge to evaluate whether the fast “worked.” Some fasts bring clarity. Others simply leave you a little more aware of your dependence on God, and that is no small gift.
Jesus once said His disciples didn’t fast while He was with them, but that the day would come when the bridegroom would be taken from them, “and on that day they will fast” (Mark 2:20). We live in that in-between time, longing for the day we will sit at His table face to face.
Fasting is a way of practicing that longing. It reminds us, in our bodies, that we were made for more than bread and more than ministry success. For pastors who spend so much of their lives setting the table for others, it is a gift to be reminded that we, too, are guests, and that the Father who sees in secret is the One who feeds us.
