Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

They were doing it wrong. The people God had chosen for Himself, to be His own special treasure, were fasting incorrectly. Maybe it looked right to the casual observer, this traditional fasting and purported mourning. Maybe they hoodwinked the neighbors by wearing itchy, uncomfortable sackcloth. Perhaps they bamboozled themselves with the heaping of ashes and lack of food. They still weren’t doing it right. And they didn’t stand a chance of fooling the only One that needed to believe their farce. 

No amount of fasting, wailing, or poor fashion choices could trick the God who knows the hearts, reads the thoughts, and sees the works of every soul on earth. They couldn’t outwit Him. They’d never be able to deceive Him. Thankfully, He would never deceive them, either. He wouldn’t leave them to wander down their misguided path, thinking they could fail to truly repent and change yet still reap the desired results. He loved them too much for that. He wasn’t willing to abandon them in their erroneous ways. So when the people cried out in indignation that they had fasted and denied themselves and God was doing nothing to acknowledge the fact, He sent Isaiah to point them to the path of proper fasting. (Jeremiah 17:10; Psalm 139:1-24)

They weren’t exactly keen on Isaiah’s message. Condemnation of their fasting method was not what they wanted to hear. Isaiah delivered the message anyway. They were fasting wrong. Oh, the outside actions were perfect. The meal skipping. The self-denial. The hideous sackcloth. Piles of ashes. That was all right on target. The problem had nothing to do with the outside, and everything to do with the inside. While they were outwardly fasting, their hearts were still gluttonously feasting on sin. (Isaiah 58)

 Behind the facade of righteous fasting and self-denial, the weight of hidden sin sat like a disagreeable lump. Contentions. Fighting. Malicious gossip. Criticism. Lack of personal responsibility. Oppression. Selfishness. Greed. (Isaiah 58:4-10) Their meal-skipping had no effect on their filthy hearts. They didn’t intend to change. They engaged in the ritual of fasting with one hope only, to gain gifts from God. 

Believing ourselves to be of higher intelligence than these ancient people, we shake our heads in condemnation of their antics. We wonder how they could do something like this. How could they think, even for a moment, they could trick God with half-hearted obedience? What made them think God didn’t know their hearts? Surely they remembered Achan who couldn’t hide his sin from God. (Joshua 7:19-26) Did they think they were better, different, cagier? Do we? 

The arrival of Lent has many of us turning to some sort of fasting as a way to observe the season. Fasting for Lent is not required. It’s a tradition. If done properly, fasting can be extremely beneficial. Unfortunately, so many of us are doing it wrong. We remain under the assumption that fasting alone is enough. It’s not. Fasting won’t fix the needs of your soul, correct the sins of your heart, or change your worldview. Only feasting can do that. Feasting on Jesus while fasting from the flesh.

Feeding people is what God has been doing since the dawn of time. Trees in the Garden of Eden. Water from a rock. Manna in the wilderness. Food from ravens’ mouths. Endless oil and flour. Jesus’ time on earth was spent feeding people too. Wine in Cana. Multiplication of loaves and fishes. Feeding of the 4,000. He could have sent them home to feed themselves. He could have berated them for not being prepared. He didn’t. He fed their bodies and filled their minds and souls with Himself. Even if it took a couple of days to do it. (Genesis 1:28-29; Numbers 20:1-13; Exodus 16:1-36; I Kings 17:1-16; John 2:1-11; John 6:1-13; Matthew 15:29-39)

After the miraculous feeding of the 5,000 with five loaves and two fishes, the crowd, not interested in fasting, traveled to Capernaum looking for Jesus. They needed breakfast. They had gone to great lengths to get it. They were hungry after all that rowing. Upon arrival, they tried to pass it off as simply looking for Jesus, not looking for the leftovers from yesterday’s miracle. He isn’t fooled. Jesus knows they’ve come for more food. So He offers them something better. The bread of life. 

 In answer to the hunger of the souls that chased Him down, Jesus offered relationship with Him. He is the bread of life. He is the answer for longing souls. If they just come to Him, He fills the one who is hungry and quenches the one who is thirsty. The food never runs out. The well never runs dry. And it’s all free of charge. Come, take, feast, without money and without price. You can have all of Jesus you want. Just pull up to the table and feast.  (Isaiah 55:1; John 6:22-59) 

We seem to have forgotten this. We spend our lives limiting our Bible reading by reading other things instead. We absorb ourselves in social media, news, work, sports. We pray only when we need something or don’t have anything else to do. When we do pray, our list of wants and wishes spills out in rapid-fire verbal vomit capped with a hasty “Amen.” We don’t wait before God to hear Him speak. We don’t linger to relish His presence. No. We rush off to the next event, next chore, next show. We are fasting our souls when we should be feasting.

The elder brother of the prodigal son in Jesus’ parable did the same thing. He’d watched in disdain as his younger brother took his money and went haring off to parts unknown. He’d stayed on the farm, toiling endlessly on crops and cattle. It was thankless work. He did it anyway, without complaint. One day, he came in from the fields filthy, famished, and needing a rest. As he approached the house he heard music and festivities. Wondering what was going on, he stops a servant to get the details. “Your brother is back,” he hears, “Your father is making a feast to welcome him home.” 

Hearing these words, the eldest son’s hunger vanishes, replaced by anger and resentment. No one has ever thrown him a party. His blood, sweat, and tears have made this place what it is, but no one celebrates him. Why should he go in there for this? He doesn’t need food. He can fast. As the burgeoning ugliness of anger, resentment, and bitterness begin to overflow, his father appears. He just wants his son to lay aside his anger, come inside, sit at the table, and feast. (Luke 15:11-32)

I don’t know if the son accepted the father’s invitation. The parable doesn’t say. I do know this. God is extending the same invitation to you. He’s asking you to fast from your anger, jealousy, pride, fear, and hate. Quit your sin. Come. Pull up to His banquet table. Tuck your napkin in your shirt collar. And dig in. Feast on Jesus. Taste His goodness. Indulge in His mercy, love, and grace. Find your gluttonous pleasure in the things of God. The platters will never be empty. Your glass will never be dry. Come. Feast. Be full of living waters. Find everlasting life at the Father’s table. (Song of Solomon 2:4; Psalm 34:8; Revelation 22:17; John 4:13-14; John 6:35)

    Perhaps you have declared a fast. You are dedicated to your vow. Skipping meals. Eschewing a food group. Staying signed out of social media. That’s all well and good, but why are you doing it? Because it’s tradition, because your church expects it? I hope not. I hope you have loftier goals for your fast. I hope your soul isn’t fasting as well. I hope you have accepted the invitation from the Bread of Life, have pulled up to the table, and are feasting like never before. I hope your soul is getting fat during your physical fast. You can fast for any reason, but if your soul is fasting too, you are just engaging in another diet regimen. Don’t starve your soul. The banquet is spread. The invitation has been issued. Come. Feast. And find eternal life. (John 6:35; John 7:37-38)