Fasting from reckless words this Lent: why?

Last month I heard someone lay down an unusual challenge: to 'give up' harsh words for Lent. Usually, some Christians might choose to give up something ‘indulgent’ for Lent, such as meat or chocolate. But this year I'm taking a different approach: I'm trying to 'give up' words that hurt my neighbours.

I’ve been reflecting on the many times in the Bible God encourages us to be careful about the words we speak, and particularly the warning in Proverbs that our tongues have the power to harm or heal.

The words of the reckless pierce like swords,
    but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18

I started to think, very uncomfortably, about February and the chaotic start of the school and work year. The relentless Sydney humidity. The childcare arrangements and activities that required scheduling, the work emails that required responses, and the supplies that required purchasing, finding and mending. I thought of the people in my family who, themselves overwhelmed by the busy season, required my support. And I thought of the myriad ways during this month alone that I had not refrained from words that hurt and offend some of my closest neighbours—my children.

Now, I want to say here that ‘imperfect’ is how Jesus found us, and ‘imperfect’ is how we will remain until we go home with him. Our errors and failings as parents do nothing to change the lavish, wholehearted love and warm affection that God has for us because of Jesus’ sin-defying death and resurrection. Grace covers us and all our sin.

As I reflect on my parenting—even just the microcosm of my parenting in hot, overwhelming February, I am challenged—not to consider whether or not my failings are forgiven (they are!), but to consider whether God would like to use this time of Lent to help me depend more on him and grow a little more like Jesus (he does!).

In this article I’ll share some thoughts about the value of fasting and the ways that we might compare the habit of speaking harshly to an ‘appetite’ from which we can fast. Next time, I’ll share some more specific ideas for how we might draw close to God, seeking his help and presence as we practise abstaining from harsh and unkind words.

What does fasting reveal?

Fasting (usually from food) is practised by Christians of many denominations and is a time of deliberately abstaining from pleasurable foods (or in some cases, habits), with the intention that our physical hunger or desire prompts us to acknowledge our dependence on God and reminds us to turn to him in prayer. In Isaiah 58, we see that true fasting is not merely a physical act but a spiritual one, where God desires an attitude of dependence, humility and of compassion for neighbours, not simply physical abstinence. 

It would not have occurred to me to describe speaking harshly to my children as something I ‘hunger’ for, but there is a sense in which it is true. I love my children and I want to act rightly towards them; I know God hates my harsh words and unkind tone. And yet my body ‘hungers’ to behave this way.

Paul captures this tension between our desires and our actions in his letter to the Romans, saying:

‘Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me.’ (Romans 7:21–23).

The impulse to speak harshly is a largely subconscious drive and an appetite which I would be wise to identify and reflect on. And fasting might help me to do this—by highlighting my complacency and showing me just how often I indulge this ‘appetite’. I remember during the COVID lockdowns when  we were being urged not to leave home unnecessarily, to wear masks, and to keep our hands away from our faces, a friend remarked laughingly that COVID had really shown her just how much she likes to do those very things—sit in cafes, do non-essential shopping and touch her face! Sometimes rules, whether imposed by others or self-imposed as in the case of fasting, can help us identify behaviour patterns.

Where do we turn in our dependence?

And once we see them, what then? In that moment when our dependence on ourselves, or our deference to our own anxieties is made clear, we might rightly feel like Paul and grieve the power of sin in our lives. Instead of just resolving to be better and try harder. Paul offers a better perspective, going on to declare dependence on God in verses 24–25, saying: ’What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!’ In Chapter 8 he then proclaims triumphantly:

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,  because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. (Romans 8:1)

We don’t fast from sin as a means to conquer sin, but as a way to draw near to God in humility, depending on God to grow us in Christ’s likeness, yes, but most significantly, depending on him to continue setting his unwavering love on us, despite the ways we inevitably continue to fail.

During Lent, it is traditional to give up rich, tasty and expensive foods, such as meat, eggs, or chocolate. I don’t think many of us would readily say we enjoy using hurtful words in the way we might relish eating a steak or a custard tart. But when we enjoy delicious foods, we elevate the importance of our physical craving or impulse,  and when we abstain from food, we choose to demote these impulses and elevate the importance of dependence on God for our sustenance.

When we speak harshly, this is very often prompted by frustration, self-importance or fear, and we elevate the importance of our impulses and emotions by speaking rashly. If we fast from words that hurt our neighbour, we choose to demote our own impulses and habits and experience the physical cost of that abstinence—perhaps the loss of short-term stress relief or self-soothing—and instead elevate the importance of other things and people, in that moment.

When we fast from food, we feel a physical cost: hunger, or the unmet desire for pleasure. Being physical–spiritual beings as we are, fasting manifests the spiritual reality of our dependence on God, in our physical bodies. We feel it in a way that moves us differently than simple intellectual acknowledgement does, and this can give us a necessary wakeup call. With the Spirit’s guidance we will identify our appetites. We will notice, in that moment of restraint, that we habitually tend towards unkind words.

We are creatures of habit—what we do, think or say most often, quickly becomes our brain’s default way of operating. And we are also frail creatures. Our bodies and minds only have finite capacity to withstand stress, and there will be times when we simply cannot cope with the various demands on our emotions and energy. Coupled with our sinful natures, these facts of our humanity inevitably mean we give rein to harsh, impatient and rash words, at times indulging in them instead of abstaining and depending on the strength and goodness of the Holy Spirit.

Fasting is an opportunity to practise dependence and humility before our God. Usually, the things people fast from are not bad in themselves and we go back to consuming them after Easter, having learnt the lessons of Lent. This particular way of fasting—from something we’d call sinful—is part of an ongoing process of sanctification. It will hopefully bring about some long-term behaviour change, but the real goal is to offer our hearts to God and ask that he change us to be more genuinely and habitually dependent on him. God loves us to be self-controlled, to speak with grace and to act mercifully … but more that he loves us to seek him and love him. Fasting is a way of physically recognising the spiritual reality of our frailty and of God’s goodness and his ability to provide all we need. We need God—for forgiveness and for salvation, as well as for the capacity to abstain from words that hurt our children.

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Kat Ashton Israel is mum to two young adults and three school-aged kids, and also works as a preschool educator. She is married to Toby, and they live in suburban Sydney. She is a contributor to Parenting in God’s Family Volume 2: More Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life.

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