Jesus aims fasting at the heart. “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do… But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face… so that it will not be obvious… and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you” (Matthew 6:16–18). With a few plain sentences He takes a practice long associated with repentance, lament, and seeking guidance and lifts it out of the theater of public opinion into the quiet room where only the Father’s eye matters (Matthew 6:6; Joel 2:12–13). The issue is not whether people notice, but whether God is the One being sought.
This teaching sits inside the Sermon on the Mount’s larger correction. Righteousness that performs to be seen withers; kingdom righteousness lives before God and trusts Him to weigh motives and to give what is truly good. The same Lord who told His disciples to let their light shine so the Father would be glorified also told them to hide their giving, to pray behind a door, and to fast with a normal face, because the aim is always God’s glory, not ours (Matthew 5:16; Matthew 6:1–4; Matthew 6:5–6; Matthew 6:16–18). Fasting, like prayer and generosity, is a means of communion, not a stage.
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Historical and Cultural Background
From early in Israel’s life with God, fasting marked seasons of sorrow, repentance, and urgent dependence. On the Day of Atonement the people were commanded to “afflict” themselves, a phrase that came to include abstaining from food as a sign of humility before the Lord who covers sin by blood and grants mercy to the contrite (Leviticus 16:29–31; Leviticus 23:27). When Ezra gathered exiles at the Ahava Canal, they “proclaimed a fast” to humble themselves and ask for safe passage, and the Lord answered their plea, tying abstinence to explicit prayer for help (Ezra 8:21–23). When Nineveh heard Jonah’s warning, even the king rose from his throne, laid aside his robe, and called for fasting and earnest turning “from their evil ways,” and God relented because repentance, not the mere act, is what He regards (Jonah 3:5–10).
Prophets also exposed fasting’s misuse. Isaiah rebuked those who fasted while exploiting workers and quarreling, asking whether such a day could be called a fast acceptable to the Lord, and then defined true fasting as loosing injustice, sharing bread, and clothing the naked, a picture that binds abstaining from food to active love for neighbor (Isaiah 58:3–7). Zechariah confronted people who had multiplied fasts in exile but kept their hearts far from God, announcing that days of fasting would one day become seasons of joy and gladness when the Lord restores Zion, placing fasting within a larger hope of future blessing (Zechariah 7:5–6; Zechariah 8:19). The point was never technique; it was always truth in the inward parts brought into step with mercy and justice (Psalm 51:6).
By the first century, set fasts had developed beyond the one commanded day, and some groups publicized their devotion. Jesus’s examples of gloomy faces and disfigured appearances fit a culture where piety could become performance, whether by visible neglect of grooming or by deliberate signaling to invite honor from others (Matthew 6:16). His antidote is simple. Wash your face. Anoint your head. Live normally while you fast, much as wisdom elsewhere says, “Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil,” a line that connects ordinary gladness with ordinary faithfulness even in serious times (Ecclesiastes 9:8). Secrecy does not hide hunger from God; it hides pride from us.
A dispensational reading keeps covenant settings distinct while honoring moral continuity. Under the Mosaic economy, a fast day stood in the calendar of a theocratic nation and other communal fasts were added in response to crisis or conviction (Leviticus 16:29–31; Esther 4:3). Jesus taught within that world yet announced the nearness of the kingdom and prepared a church, drawn from Jew and Gentile, to practice heart-level devotion under the law of Christ with the Spirit’s help across cultures and eras (Matthew 4:17; Galatians 6:2). The moral center—humble, Godward fasting—endures, while ceremonial and civil scaffolding shift as redemptive history advances (Jeremiah 31:33; Hebrews 10:16).
Biblical Narrative
Scripture threads fasting through stories of need and grace. David fasted and lay all night on the ground when his sin’s consequences reached his house; he sought God earnestly, then rose to worship when the Lord’s answer came, showing that fasting bows to God’s wisdom even when His answer is painful (2 Samuel 12:16–23). Nehemiah heard Jerusalem’s ruins described, sat down and wept, and “for some days mourned and fasted and prayed,” confessing sin and asking for favor with a king, and the Lord opened doors for rebuilding because fasting welded grief, confession, and bold petition into one posture (Nehemiah 1:3–11; Nehemiah 2:4–8). Daniel sought understanding by setting his face toward the Lord with prayer and fasting, and the messenger came with insight into God’s plans, reminding us that fasting often accompanies the quest for wisdom in confusing times (Daniel 9:3; Daniel 10:12).
Jesus’s own teaching situates fasting in a new moment. When questioned why His disciples did not fast like others, He answered with a wedding image: “How can the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is with them? The time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; then they will fast” (Matthew 9:15). His presence turned fasting’s usual tone of longing into joy for a season, but His departure anticipated a church that would again express ache, dependence, and focus through fasting as we await His return (John 16:20–22). He warned against new wine in old skins, signaling that fasting under the new covenant must match gospel realities rather than legalistic expectation, even as it continues to serve humility, prayer, and longing for the King (Matthew 9:16–17).
The early church practiced fasting without spectacle. In Antioch leaders were “worshiping the Lord and fasting” when the Spirit said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul,” so they fasted and prayed and sent them, pairing abstinence with discernment and mission (Acts 13:2–3). As Paul and Barnabas appointed elders they prayed with fasting, entrusting new churches to the Lord in dependence rather than presumption, a pattern that made leadership selection an act of worship rather than a merely human process (Acts 14:23). Paul wrote of being “in hunger and thirst” at times, distinguishing involuntary lack from chosen fasting, yet his letters commend self-control and sober devotion that fasting often trains (2 Corinthians 11:27; 1 Corinthians 9:27).
Alongside these bright examples stand warnings where fasting was emptied of love. The man who boasted, “I fast twice a week,” went home unjustified because he trusted in himself, while the tax collector who beat his breast and said, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” found the mercy he sought, proving that posture matters more than calendar in the courts of heaven (Luke 18:11–14). The Lord who sees in secret rescues fasting from both pride and despair by recalling us to Himself as the point and the prize (Matthew 6:18; Psalm 73:25–26).
Theological Significance
Fasting in Jesus’s mouth is a relational discipline. It is not a lever to move God; it is a language to seek Him. When He says the Father will reward what is done in secret, He dignifies desire for God’s favor while cleansing it of the itch for human applause. The reward is God Himself drawing near to the humble, granting help, and aligning hearts with His will, not a tally of merit for spiritual achievement (Matthew 6:18; James 4:6–8). This keeps fasting inside grace, not as a means to earn standing but as a means to enjoy communion.
Fasting is also embodied prayer. To forego food for a time says with the body what the soul feels: “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). It remembers the wilderness, where manna trained daily trust, and it points to Christ as the bread of life who satisfies deeper hunger than any meal can touch (Exodus 16:4–5; John 6:35). In seasons of crisis, fasting intensifies petition; in seasons of repentance, it deepens contrition; in seasons of mission, it sharpens attentiveness to the Spirit’s leading, each time turning a good created gift into a servant of a greater good (Acts 13:2–3; Joel 2:12–13).
A dispensational framework clarifies fasting’s place across the ages. Under the Law, a national fast day taught Israel humility and dependence within a calendared rhythm, and additional fasts arose in exile as lament for judgment and hope for restoration (Leviticus 16:29–31; Zechariah 7:5). In the church age believers are not under a legal fast schedule, yet the moral core abides under the law of Christ: humble abstinence joined to prayer for guidance, holiness, mercy, and power, practiced freely and wisely in step with the Spirit (Galatians 6:2; Romans 8:4). Looking ahead, Scripture promises that days once marked by fasting will become seasons of gladness when Messiah reigns, which gives present fasting a hopeful tilt toward the kingdom where lack and tears will cease (Zechariah 8:19; Revelation 21:4).
The warning against hypocrisy exposes a perennial danger. The human heart can turn any discipline into a platform. Jesus’s command to wash and anoint pushes back by making secrecy a guard for sincerity. Normal grooming in the ancient world signaled ordinary joy and respect for others, and He leverages that signal to keep fasting aimed at God rather than at an audience (Matthew 6:17; Psalm 23:5). In modern terms the wisdom stands: resist curating an image of spirituality; seek the God who is present when no one else is looking (Matthew 6:6; Colossians 3:23–24).
Finally, fasting serves eschatological longing. The church lives between the “taken away” and the “coming again,” and abstinence can become a prayer with the stomach that says, “Come, Lord Jesus,” while it also becomes a mercy for neighbors as we share bread and advocate for justice in His name (Matthew 9:15; Revelation 22:20; Isaiah 58:6–7). In this way fasting blends ache and action, hope and holiness, until the Bridegroom returns and joy is full.
Spiritual Lessons and Application
Fasting begins with the question of audience. Jesus’s first word is “when,” not “if,” and His concern is that our abstinence be seen by the Father who is unseen, which means we choose times and settings that reduce the pull to signal and increase the space to seek (Matthew 6:16–18). This will often mean planning. We consider our health, responsibilities, and relationships, and we choose a pattern—perhaps a meal, a day, or a short season—that we can keep without neglecting duties, because love of God never cancels love of neighbor (1 Corinthians 10:31; Mark 12:31). We tell those who must know, and otherwise we keep it quiet.
The heart of fasting is prayer. We anchor the abstinence to specific petitions so the hunger turns to intercession rather than to irritability. We might seek wisdom for a decision, mercy for the suffering, repentance for sin exposed by the Spirit, or power for gospel work, and we weave Scripture into those prayers so that God’s words shape ours (Nehemiah 1:5–11; Acts 13:2–3; Psalm 119:25). When the growl comes, we let it be a bell that calls us back to the Father, reminding us that our lives are not upheld by bread alone and that He knows what we need before we ask (Matthew 4:4; Matthew 6:8).
Secrecy protects joy. Jesus’s command to wash and anoint teaches us to keep ordinary cheer while we fast. We show up to work, speak kindly, and serve as usual, refusing the drama that asks others to notice our sacrifice (Matthew 6:17–18). In the same spirit we refrain from posting or narrating our practice unless there is a clear pastoral reason to teach others, and even then we aim at God’s glory, not our brand (Matthew 5:16; 1 Corinthians 10:31). The Father’s smile is enough, and He delights to give good gifts to children who seek Him (Matthew 7:11; Hebrews 11:6).
Fasting interlocks with repentance and restitution. When the Spirit surfaces sin, abstinence can deepen godly sorrow and help untangle idolatry by denying self what it demands for a time, but fasting without obedience is a shell. Isaiah called Israel to break yokes and share bread alongside abstaining, and Jesus calls disciples to reconcile with brothers and forgive debtors, which means a fast day may also be a day to make a phone call, to return what was wrongfully taken, or to serve a neighbor quietly (Isaiah 58:6–7; Matthew 5:23–24; Matthew 6:12). Abstinence trains the will to say no to sin and yes to love.
Wisdom keeps fasting humane. Some cannot abstain from food for medical reasons, and Scripture gives liberty to aim the same heart at different forms. We may fast from rich foods like Daniel for a time, from media that crowds out prayer, or from other comforts that reclaim space for God, always remembering that the point is not the pain but the pursuit (Daniel 10:2–3; 1 Corinthians 6:12). We receive counsel where helpful and avoid comparing practices, because the Lord weighs hearts, not calendars, and He gives various measures of faith to His people (Romans 14:5–8; Proverbs 16:2).
Fasting can frame congregational life at key moments. Churches in Acts fasted as they sought leaders and sent missionaries, and local bodies today can set apart days for focused prayer in crisis or mission, pairing abstinence with gathered worship and Scripture so the hunger becomes a shared plea for God’s help (Acts 13:2–3; Acts 14:23). Such practices teach a watching world that the church depends on God’s power, not on human cleverness, and they can be done without trumpet by making the Lord, not the schedule, the headline (Matthew 6:2; Zechariah 4:6).
Above all, fasting keeps us near the Bridegroom. We are not trying to twist His arm; we are training our hearts to ache for His presence. In days of joy we may feast to honor the Giver; in days of longing we may fast to sharpen our hope. Both are holy when offered in thanks and faith, and both will be fulfilled when the King returns and turns every fast day into gladness (Ecclesiastes 3:4; Zechariah 8:19; John 16:22).
Conclusion
Jesus rescues fasting from the stage and returns it to the secret place where sons and daughters meet their Father. He calls us to resist the urge to be seen, to keep ordinary cheer, and to let hunger become prayer, repentance, and love, all under the eye of the God who sees and rewards what is done for Him alone (Matthew 6:16–18; Matthew 6:6). In the church age, fasting remains a wise, voluntary discipline that aligns with the law of Christ and leans toward the promised kingdom, where days of sorrow will be swallowed by joy and where the Bridegroom’s presence will end all ache (Galatians 6:2; Zechariah 8:19; Revelation 21:4).
Until then, we fast in hope. We seek the Father who gives good gifts, we share bread with the hungry, we confess our sins and forgive our debtors, and we ask for guidance and power for the work He has given. He is near to all who call on Him in truth, and He delights to meet those who meet Him in secret (Psalm 145:18; Matthew 7:11). Let fasting remain what Jesus made it: a quiet path into deeper fellowship with God and a steady practice that turns our hearts toward His will for our lives and for the world He loves.
“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…?” (Isaiah 58:6–7)
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For Further Reference: A Detailed Study on the Entire Sermon on the Mount