In the noise of our busy lives, the word "fasting" can seem strange, a little radical or out of place. We associate it with food deprivation, a difficult effort, sometimes even constraint. But in the Christian tradition, fasting is much more than a simple exercise of will. It is an inner act, a way of refocusing, of opening up a space, of becoming silent in order to listen better. When fasting is lived from the heart, it becomes a path towards God. And in the absence of something, it's not the emptiness that speaks, but the presence that approaches.
Fasting is not a performance
It's important to free ourselves from a misconception: fasting is not about proving something to God or others. It's not a test to pass, or a spiritual challenge to take up. True fasting is not an inner competition, but a surrender. It's saying to God: "You are more important than anything else". It's not eating less or giving up something that brings us closer to God, but the inner attitude with which we do it. The heart of fasting is love. Not deprivation in itself, but what it allows us to relearn: simplicity, humility, dependence on God.
Making room for what really matters
Fasting is about creating a vacuum to welcome a presence. In a day that is too full, too fast, a lack slows down the race, opens a gap. This lack can be food, a screen, comfort... It doesn't matter. What matters is what this lack reveals about us. It reminds us that we are fragile, limited and sometimes worried. And it is precisely there, in this fragility, that God meets us. Fasting then becomes an act of trust: we accept not to fill everything up, not to consume everything, so that we can learn to rely on something else, on someone else. It's a shift of heart.
Fasting is also about uniting with those who lack everything
Fasting is not just a personal act, it's also an act of solidarity. When we choose to deprive ourselves, even just a little, we enter into communion with all those who have no choice. Those for whom lack is daily, permanent and unjust. Fasting can thus become a silent prayer for them, a gesture of unity, a way of saying: "I don't want to forget my brothers and sisters". It makes us more attentive, more lucid, more united. It frees us from indifference and spurs us into action. By fasting with the heart, we transform a lack into an offering, a deprivation into compassion.
Fasting inhabited by prayer
Fasting alone, without prayer, risks becoming a mere human effort. But when we fast in prayer, even briefly, even inwardly, everything changes. Lack becomes a language, hunger becomes a call. We can simply say to God: "I offer you this emptiness, come and fill it". Or: "I'm not taking this, so that I can turn more towards you". It is in this silent offering that fasting becomes fruitful. It is no longer a withdrawal, but an impetus. It creates in us an expectation, a greater desire, a purer thirst. It prepares our hearts to receive grace more deeply.
Conclusion
Fasting with the heart is to give meaning back to lack. It's not a rigid exercise, but a living process. A choice of love, a path of self-denial, a gentle way of getting back to basics. Fasting teaches us to live differently, to consume less in order to love more, to empty ourselves a little in order to be filled differently. And in this lived lack, this chosen lack, this offered lack, God comes. He does not fill as the world fills. He comes slowly, discreetly, but he comes. And that's where fasting becomes a true path to Life.
