There’s something almost comical about denying yourself a cheeseburger in the name of spiritual discipline while simultaneously feasting on somebody else’s business.
We tend to think of fasting as giving something up. Food. Sugar. Alcohol. Social media. Coffee, which depending on the person, may require more faith than moving a mountain. We abstain from something we enjoy because we want to create space for God, sharpen our spiritual awareness, practice self-control, or remind ourselves that our appetites don’t have to control us.
And all of that can be meaningful.
But if you’re fasting from food while gossiping about your neighbor, coworker, family member, church member, or the person who annoyed you on Facebook, you might as well go ahead and eat.
Seriously. Have the biscuit. Because the point was never an empty stomach.
The prophets understood this. Isaiah 58 contains one of Scripture’s strongest rebukes of religious performance without transformed behavior. The people were fasting and wondering why God didn’t seem particularly impressed by it. God’s response, through Isaiah, was essentially: You’re doing the religious thing, but look at how you’re treating people.
Their fasting hadn’t produced compassion. Their religious discipline hadn’t made them kinder. They were denying themselves food while continuing to mistreat others. God wasn’t looking for hungry people. He was looking for changed people.
Jesus carried that same theme throughout His ministry. He had remarkably little patience for religious performances that looked impressive on the outside but produced no love, mercy, humility, or grace. He warned people not to make a spectacle of fasting. He criticized religious leaders who meticulously followed rules while neglecting “the weightier matters” of justice, mercy, and faithfulness.
And James, never one to soften the edges, had plenty to say about the tongue. He described it as a small thing capable of setting an entire forest on fire.
That seems worth remembering before discussing what we “heard” about somebody.
Gossip is particularly dangerous because we rarely call it gossip when we’re doing it. We call it concern. We call it venting. We call it sharing. In church circles, we occasionally perform the impressive theological gymnastics of turning gossip into a prayer request.
“I’m only telling you this so you’ll know how to pray.” Apparently, God needs supporting documentation.
Spiritual Disciplines Should Change Us
The uncomfortable truth is that spiritual disciplines are supposed to change something in us. Prayer should make us more attentive to God and others. Scripture should shape how we live. Worship should reorient our hearts. And fasting should loosen the grip our appetites have on us, including appetites that have nothing to do with food.
Maybe one of those appetites is the need to know everybody’s business.
Maybe it’s the need to tell somebody else.
Maybe it’s the little rush we get from possessing information another person doesn’t have.
Maybe it’s the satisfaction of being the one who gets to say, “Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…”
That sentence has probably ruined more reputations than a plate of bacon ever did.
Perhaps fasting needs to be understood more broadly. What if we fasted from talking about people who aren’t in the room? What if we fasted from passing along stories we haven’t verified? What if we fasted from assuming motives, whispering suspicions, screenshotting conversations, forwarding messages, and disguising judgment as concern?
What if, before repeating something about another person, we asked a very simple question: Does saying this look anything like Jesus? That question might ruin a lot of conversations. And maybe that’s exactly the point.
Jesus seemed far more concerned with what came out of people than what went into them. He taught that what comes from the heart: our words, judgments, cruelty, pride, and contempt, reveals something deeper about us.
So, skipping lunch while devouring someone’s reputation isn’t much of a fast. Giving up chocolate while refusing to give up judgment isn’t much of a sacrifice. Going without coffee while serving piping-hot gossip probably isn’t bringing us closer to God.
Spiritual disciplines matter, but only when they lead somewhere. They should make us more loving, more merciful, more compassionate, more self-aware, and perhaps a little less interested in keeping score of everyone else’s shortcomings.
The goal of fasting isn’t simply to become hungry. It’s to become different.
So, if your stomach is empty but your mouth is full of somebody else’s business, maybe reconsider what you’re fasting from.
And if you’re going to gossip anyway? Go ahead and eat.
Patrick Carden
thegracistproject.com 
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