After the death of Saul, when David had returned from striking down the Amalekites, David remained two days in Ziklag. And on the third day, behold, a man came from Saul’s camp, with his clothes torn and dirt on his head. And when he came to David, he fell to the ground and paid homage. David said to him, “Where do you come from?” And he said to him, “I have escaped from the camp of Israel.” And David said to him, “How did it go? Tell me.” And he answered, “The people fled from the battle, and also many of the people have fallen and are dead, and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead.”
Then David took hold of his clothes and tore them, and so did all the men who were with him. And they mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and for Jonathan his son and for the people of the Lord and for the house of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword.
2 Samuel 1:1-4, 11-12 (ESV)
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The messenger arrives, breathless. His clothes are torn, his face streaked with dust. His eyes tell the story before his lips can speak. Something terrible has happened.
David steadies himself. He knows the weight of war. He has seen bloodshed before. But this – this is different. “How did it go?” he asks, dreading the answer. “The people fled from battle. Many have fallen. Saul is dead. Jonathan too.”
The words land like a crushing blow. Israel’s king? His closest friend? Gone? The battlefield is littered with the bodies of Israel’s warriors. Their blood stains the ground. But David does not rush to action. He does not seize the throne now open before him. Instead, he mourns, he weeps, and he fasts.
This is not mere tradition – it is a fitting response to grief this deep. Interestingly, three of the first four references to fasting in the Bible are connected to grief, yet books on fasting often glance over this connection. In reality, grief may be the thread that ties all fasting together. For generations, God’s people have fasted not just in sorrow, but in solidarity. After the bloody battle at Gettysburg, Abraham Lincoln called for a national fast – one of three during the Civil War – so the nation could grieve before God. David and his men do the same. They refuse to numb their pain or move on too quickly.
Why fast in grief? Scot McKnight explains: “Why fast when someone dies? Because our respect for the person who has died is so immense and our grief so great that indulgence in any kind of pleasure desacralizes that respect and pain. Instead of drowning our sorrow in drink or flushing it away with foods, the sober person drinks the pain of death and offers the gift of grace to the bereaved with utter clarity by remaining fully alert through fasting.”
Fasting in grief strips away distractions. It forces us to sit in God’s presence, fully exposed. It is a physical response to a soul-level ache, a declaration that only God can comfort a wound so deep.
This Wednesday, whether you fast for a meal or the whole day, bring your grief, loss, or disappointments before the Lord. Name them. Mourn them in His presence. Let your hunger sharpen your prayers, reminding you that comfort is found not in anything but in God Himself.
Suggested Weekly Abstention: Sweets