There are moments when the soul stirs restlessly within, aching for purification. Not in grand gestures, but in the quiet recognition that the way I have been living is insufficient for the task God has placed before me. This is one of those moments. I feel compelled—not by guilt or external pressure, but by a longing for clarity, strength, and sanctity—to fast. Not merely as an act of discipline, but as a spiritual offering, a reclaiming of the man I was created to be.
I’ve tried to break free of certain patterns before. I’ve tried to “be better,” relying on willpower alone. But the body is weak, and the flesh—when left to its own devices—always bends back toward comfort and indulgence. So this time, I fast not only with my body, but with intention, with prayer, and with dedication. These are the three fasts I am undertaking.
1. Fasting from Alcohol — For the Love of My Family
Let me be clear: I do not drink to excess. I don’t get drunk, and alcohol hasn’t brought scandal or danger into my home. But that one daily beer—innocent as it may seem—has begun to feel like a chain. It is a comfort, a dopamine hit, a daily ritual that robs me of clarity, vitality, and perhaps even my best self.
The Holy Spirit whispers gently, “Lay it down.”
I am fasting from alcohol not out of fear, but out of love. Love for my wife, my children, and my calling as a man to be strong, present, and alive. The beer costs money, adds toxins, and dims my physical energy. And perhaps most dangerously, it numbs me just enough to miss the sacred weight of the evening. So I offer this fast, prayerfully and deliberately, for my family. May the energy I regain be spent on them.
A wise person will not be among the drinkers of alcoholic beverages – Proverbs 23:19-20
2. Fasting from Comfort — For the Sake of My Calling
There is a tyrant more seductive than any vice: comfort. It speaks in whispers—“rest a little longer,” “skip the workout,” “you’ve earned a break.” And yet every time I yield, I feel my edge dull.
Fitness is not just about looking a certain way; it’s about living with force. I am fasting from comfort, not because discomfort is virtuous in itself, but because it is the crucible where grit is forged. Each morning I rise and move my body, I am reclaiming the sacred dignity of effort. In sweat, I find prayer. In strain, I find clarity.
I dedicate this fast to my work, my business, my mission. May I be granted not just success, but the strength and courage to chase after it without cowardice or sloth.
“A slack hand causes poverty,
but the hand of the diligent makes rich.” – Proverbs 10:4
3. Fasting from Sugar and Carbs — For Healing and Intercession
I choose a disciplined ketogenic lifestyle not because it’s trendy, but because it forces me to say “no” to the quick fix. Sugar and refined carbohydrates offer comfort without substance—pleasure without fuel. They numb, bloat, and distract.
But this fast is not just for me. I dedicate it to someone I love: Mimi. She suffers from Burning Mouth Syndrome—a strange and persistent affliction. As I deny myself the easy pleasure of sugar, I unite that small suffering to hers. May my fasting be an intercessory cry, a silent prayer for her healing. I fast, not only for discipline, but for love.
“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” – Matthew 26:41
I do not write this to boast. God knows how often I have failed. I write this as a witness to myself, and perhaps to anyone else who senses the same inner summons. Fasting is not about self-punishment. It is about clearing the fog, stripping away the noise, and presenting oneself—whole and unclouded—before God.
May these fasts bear fruit. May they make room in me for greater love, greater power, and deeper peace. And when I am weak—and I will be—I will return not to shame, but to grace. For Christ is not just at the finish line. He is with me every step of the way.
