Candidly, I hate fasting. At least, I hate the struggle of fasting. When I don’t eat, I get irritable quickly. I become impatient. I feel less productive. My mind is slower. It’s difficult to focus.

I hate all those feelings. Furthermore, I love food! Who doesn’t? Eating is a daily experience of the grace of God in his provision of sustenance and joy.

I would never choose fasting over feasting, but I still fast because it is a powerful tool, designed by God, to help us have the mind of Christ. Consider the words of Philippians 2:5-6: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.”

Verse 5 consists of an epic challenge and an epic promise. We are to have the same mindset as Christ; that’s an epic challenge. We are told that the mindset of Christ is ours if we are in him; that’s an epic promise.

However, my mindset often does not look like the mind of Christ. I find myself consumed with the mundane. What will I eat for dinner? Did my phone buzz? What was the score of the Michigan State game? I wish the car in front of me was driving faster. When will I be able to afford a car that nice? Why are my kids randomly yelling in the backseat?

The mind of the mundane crashes upon me, and I find myself consumed. I know that the mind of Christ is mine in Christ, but it is so easy to lose sight of the holy and capitulate to the demands of the secular. I need to, we need to, train our minds to look towards Christ. We step into this training by consciously imitating him.

Jesus “was in the form of God” (2:6). This statement is pregnant with implications. There was never a time when God the Son was not completely God. Therefore, when the Son took on “the form of a servant” in the person of Jesus, he continued to be completely God (2:7).

Because Jesus is fully God, it is fully within his rights to seize equality with God and express his godliness as he desires. And yet, he did not grasp after his rights. Rather, he emptied himself, took on the form of a servant, and was born in the likeness of men.

This mindset is unnatural for me. I live in a society that focuses on my rights, and what is mine by right I’m encouraged to seize. Demanding my rights is as natural to me as breathing, but it is not the mindset of Christ.

This is where fasting becomes a powerful tool to break the patterns I’ve learned and re-orient to the mind of Christ. It is a conscious denial of my rights and abilities. Nothing is more natural for a human than to eat. When I fast, I set aside that right in an effort to mimic the humility of Jesus. Rather than looking to my stomach and my efforts for satisfaction, I choose to believe there is more joy to be found in God.

I deny independence and embrace God-dependence. In so doing, I am training for the mindset of Christ. Wilful dependence upon the Father is the first aspect of the mind of Christ in Philippians 2, but it is not the last. Philippians 2:8 says Jesus did not grasp after equality with God, “And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”

The humility of Christ extends past the incarnation. He continued to humble himself by continually obeying his Father, even to the point of death on the cross. This is where I find encouragement in fasting, even though I hate it. When I fast, I am training in patient obedience to something greater than my desires.

On most days, there is not much that stands between me and most of my desires. If I’m hungry, I can eat. If I’m tired, I can sleep. If I want to spend time with my family or friends, they’re right there. Most days my world is cozy, my desires satisfied.

The issue is my desires are not faithful guides. Scripture teaches that my heart is deceitful (Jer. 17:9), but I knew that truth through experience before I read it. My heart constantly points me to the path of least resistance and closest joy. My heart does not naturally consider the cost of those decisions or moral implications. My heart wants, and if it can, it takes.

This is not the life God has for me. He has a life of flourishing, but the path to flourishing is through obedience. The life that God has for his people is experienced through a lived trust in what he calls them to do. Sometimes that means denying desire in faith that he has something better.

Fasting trains us to learn that desire is not our ultimate guide. When we go through a day or season of denying a core desire like food, we are forced to look elsewhere for hope. If we look to God, we will see that hope fulfilled in closeness to him.

Fulfilled hope turns our eyes to the third aspect of the mind of Christ in Philippians 2. In verses 9-11 it says, “Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Jesus did not pointlessly deny himself in the incarnation. Nor did he pointlessly suffer in the crucifixion. He did so in faith that God the Father would vindicate him. That is just what God does in bestowing upon Jesus that name that is above every name. Now, seated at the right hand of the Father, Jesus enjoys the fulfilment of his trust in his Father. Looking forward in faith, Jesus gave up his life in the present, trusting his Father to glorify him in the future.

In a world of instant gratification, this is not our natural mindset. With lines of credit we give up what we might have later for that which we can seize today. Rather than waiting for God’s better future, we leverage the future for a more comfortable present. This is the temptation for all those who have even modest wealth in this life. We can become so preoccupied with making ourselves comfortable today that we stop running the race toward eternity. We can become so grounded in the present that rather than looking to heaven with anxious anticipation, we contemplate departing this life with anxious fear.

When we choose to fast, we choose to trust in a future satisfaction rather than a present satisfaction. Groans of hunger turn our eyes from what we can grab to what might be. This forward leaning is the disposition of the Christian life. It is the reflected mind of Christ.

Fasting doesn’t save us or make us holy, but it is a tool to glorify God in our lives. When used properly, it humbles us, trains us in obedience, and trains us in faith. Fasting helps us understand dimly what Jesus did for us and understand the depth of his love. Fasting is an experiential training in the mind of Christ, so in the moments when our bellies are full, humility and grace will flow more naturally from our souls.

The denial of our independence grows God-dependence and helps us experience the fullness of this new life that is ours in Christ.

That’s why I fast; even though I hate the struggle, I love the God it draws me closer to.