Is your soul in a fog? Fasting to find true hunger

The fog of life that keeps us from what matters

There are times when I feel deeply connected to God. Times when I sense God’s closeness woven into the fabric of my life. Times when reading Scripture stirs me, when prayer feels natural and grounding, when worship moves me in ways I can’t explain.  Times when following Jesus feels compelling and obvious, times when I’m caring about justice, loving my neighbour, desiring God’s kingdom.  Maybe, on rare occasions, even, being patient and kind with my family.

But can I be honest? Is this a safe space?

Honestly… It’s not always like this.    

There are times when all this 'stuff' feels a bit far removed.  As if all that ‘Christian stuff’ - God, God’s presence, God’s kingdom, being with Jesus, becoming like Jesus, doing what Jesus did… is all there somewhere in the distance behind the fog of everyday life.    

Maybe you’ve felt it too.

In my experience, this haze is made up of two things: distraction and disconnection.    

Distraction

The sheer busyness of life keeps me moving so fast that I forget to even pay attention to God.  Work deadlines. Emails. Meetings. A tree in the garden that needs pruning. Taxes that need sorting. Dinner that needs making. Figuring out what my daughter is going to wear for World Book Day tomorrow.    

I’m not talking about bad stuff. But just - a lot. It fills my mind. It clutters my heart.  And in the midst of it, God and 'practising the way of Jesus' feel distant, hidden somewhere just behind the fog.    

Disconnection

Beyond just being busy, I can feel lulled into another way of being.  Comfort, convenience, and consumption—the things that make my life easy, that keep me entertained, that numb the deeper hunger inside me.  I reach for food I don’t need. Scroll through my phone without thinking. Binge-watch something just to fill the space.  None of these things are inherently bad, but they soften my desire, dull my longing, and quiet the hunger within me.    

And when that happens, I stop feeling the pull toward what truly matters.  I forget that I was made for more than ease, more than comfort, more than simply getting through the day—I was made for communion with God, for a life attuned to love, justice, and beauty and the presence of the divine.  

And so, without noticing, I find myself distracted and disconnected—as if God, the kingdom, and the life I long for are just beyond reach, hidden behind a fog.    

Joel 2:12 – Fasting as returning to God

In the book of Joel, the people of Judah were facing a devastating crisis.  A plague of locusts had ravaged their land, stripping their crops bare and leaving them in desperation and scarcity.  But Joel saw this disaster as more than just a natural catastrophe—it was a wake-up call.  The deeper crisis was spiritual: the people had become distant from God, going through the motions of faith while their hearts had drifted.  And so, through Joel, God speaks:   

“‘Even now,’ declares the Lord, ‘return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your heart and not your garments.’” (Joel 2:12-13)    

This was a call to fasting, but not as an empty ritual.  In the ancient world, people would publicly tear their clothes as a sign of grief or repentance.  But God says, Don’t just tear your garments—tear your hearts.  

This is what fasting does: It rends our hearts open. It disrupts the haze of distraction and comfort. It exposes our true hunger. It clears the fog, not just externally, but from the inside out—so that we can return to God with our whole selves, with softened hearts and renewed desire.    

Fasting: Pulling back the fog

Fasting doesn’t change God—it changes us.  It doesn’t help God hear our prayer, it helps us pray our deepest most honest and real prayers.  It’s not about twisting God’s arm or proving our devotion.  It’s not a spiritual transaction— ‘Look God, I’m fasting, now you have to answer my prayers!’    

Fasting clears the fog.  It pulls us out of distraction, out of numbness, out of the cycle of comfort and consumption.  It reawakens desire.  It helps us bring our longings back into focus and lay them before God—not because God wasn’t listening, but because we had stopped paying attention.    

In my experience: fasting does two things that are deeply practical and deeply formational:    

1. Fasting breaks through distraction—and brings attention.

When I’m fasting, I can be in the middle of chaos, emails, school runs, meetings, and yet—I feel a pang of hunger, and I remember: Oh yeah. I’m fasting. And that small moment disrupts my distraction. It re-centers me. I remember: Why am I doing this? Because I want to hunger for Jesus more than anything. I remember: What am I fasting for? For my family, for my community, for the brokenness I see in the world. And instead of going through my day without space for reflection, fasting builds in a natural rhythm of shifting from distraction to attention. Sometimes for a split second. Sometimes for longer. Every time I feel hunger, the fog fades a little.    

2. From disconnection to communion

Secondly: Fasting shifts us from disconnection to communion. Here’s the strange thing about fasting: It forces me to sit in unmet desire.  And it reminds me: That not every longing should be instantly gratified. That comfort is not the highest good. That the things that bring true lasting satisfaction—God’s presence, deep purpose, sacrificial love—often require friction, discomfort, prayer, waiting, hard work, seeking.  

Fasting is a physical way of saying: I don’t want to be lulled into a comfort that is alluring, but leads to disconnection.    

This is what makes fasting so powerful in our modern world—because for many of us, in a certain sense, we never have to be uncomfortable.    

If we’re hungry, we eat.

If we’re bored, we scroll.

If we’re restless, we numb ourselves with entertainment.

And yet, in that cycle, we lose touch with the deeper hunger underneath it all.    

Fasting disrupts this cycle.  It forces us to sit in our hunger long enough to remind us what we truly long for. Fasting to find true hunger.

Lent: A season for fasting to find true hunger

The Christian season of Lent has traditionally been associated with prayer, repentance, and fasting. For centuries, it’s been a time set apart to intentionally draw closer to God, to reflect on our lives, and to realign our hearts with divine purpose.

This season of Lent offers a unique opportunity to engage with practices like fasting in a focused way. It's a chance to take steps to help us roll back the fog that so easily creeps into our lives, to move from distraction to attention, from disconnection to communion with God.

As we consider fasting during this season, it can be helpful to remember that there's no one-size-fits-all approach. It’s not about rigid rules or striving for spiritual perfection, but about creating space for honest self-reflection and encountering God.

Perhaps, this Lent, you might feel called to explore fasting in a way that is healthy, appropriate, and yet also stretching for you. The key is to choose something that will create space for you to seek God more intentionally.

As you embark on this journey, may you experience the rolling back of the fog. May you find a renewed sense of clarity, a deeper connection with God, and a heart more attuned to God's presence in your life.