Fasting: The Noise of Our Need

Sept 7 · Jelisa Sterling-Smith

What fasting has taught me about surrender, dependence, and trusting God with what I cannot control.

I have been fasting every Sunday for four years.

Not because I’m particularly disciplined or spiritually mature. It actually began with something much less noble: pride.

I was struggling to trust God with the children's ministry He had given me to lead. I wanted Sundays to go well, and I thought they needed to go well because of me. I worried about my own preparation and ability, whether volunteers would show up, whether the kids would have fun, whether the technology would work, and whether everything would run smoothly.

I was carrying a weight God had never asked me to carry. I had forgotten that only He could. 

He had entrusted this ministry to me, but it was never mine to carry alone. The children were His. The volunteers were His. The church was His. And every Sunday was ultimately in His hands.

So I began fasting on Sundays as a way of reminding myself of that truth. It became a small, weekly act of surrender. A way of saying, God, this is Yours. I give it back to You. Help me trust You with what You have asked me to steward.

At its simplest, fasting is choosing to temporarily abstain from something (often food, but sometimes social media, entertainment, shopping, etc.) in order to intentionally turn our attention toward God.

There is so much noise in our world. Our phones buzz, our schedules fill up, our responsibilities follow us everywhere. And underneath all of that can be another kind of noise: the noise of our need.

We’re hungry for security, comfort, control, answers, and reassurance. We reach for our phones, our plans, our abilities, and sometimes other people, hoping they will give us what we need. And sometimes, those needs are practical. Shelter. Healing. A new church building.

But Jesus reminds us that our Father already knows what we need. He tells us not to be anxious about what we will eat or drink, but to “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” trusting our heavenly Father to know and meet our needs (Matthew 6:31–33).

Fasting gives us an opportunity to practice that kind of trust. To notice our hunger and let it turn our attention toward the One who can satisfy it. 

It isn't about punishing ourselves or proving how spiritual we are. It is about rememberingwho sustains us.

When I feel hunger, I can turn my attention toward God: You are my sustainer.

When I reach for my phone out of habit and remember that I'm fasting from it, I can pause and pray: God, You are here. I don't need to fill this moment.

Each pang of hunger, each moment of restlessness, each temptation to reach for what I'm fasting from can become a small offering of dependence:

God, I need You.

Fasting creates space for us to quiet the world around us and listen. Sometimes God gives us clarity or direction or reveals something in us that we hadn't noticed, and sometimes we simply become more aware of His presence and find our needs met there.

If you've never fasted before, you don't have to begin with something extreme. You might skip a meal and spend that time praying. Maybe you step away from social media for a day. Perhaps you put your phone away for a few hours and resist the urge to fill the silence.

Whatever you choose, the invitation is simple:

Notice the need.
Turn toward God.
And remember who sustains you.

For me, fasting every Sunday is a reminder that kids ministry isn’t dependent on my striving, volunteers showing up, or even the technology cooperating - it’s dependent on God’s doing. I can do my part faithfully and then place it back into the hands of the One who gave it to me in the first place.

Maybe that's what fasting can be for you, too. A pause, a surrender, and a reminder that beneath all the noise of our lives - and even the noise of our need - God is still there.

We were never meant to sustain ourselves. God is the one who holds us, and God is the one who holds it all.

Whatever you choose to fast from, let it become a reminder: God, I need You. You are my provider. You are my sustainer. This - and everything else I carry - belongs in Your hands.