Introduction

Friends, welcome. Some of us have come with a holy hunger today. Not just the kind that rumbles in our stomachs, but the kind that aches in our souls—the ache for God to be near, to make things right, to make us whole. If your heart feels weary or your prayers feel thin, take courage. The God who hears whispers hears yours. The God who notices sparrows notices you. He always has, and He always will.

Fasting is a word that can feel ancient and mysterious, yet its heartbeat is simple: a directed hunger, a turning of ourselves toward God with open hands. When our hands are open to Him, they can open to others. When our hearts lean toward His heart, we begin to care about what He cares about—people who are pressed down, burdens that are too heavy, yokes that choke the life out of God’s children. Isaiah 58 is a window into God’s tenderness and truth—a call to worship that walks, to love that lifts, to faith that feeds.

Many of us know what it is to abstain from a meal and whisper a prayer. But what if the Lord is inviting us to something deeper and wider—a fast that moves from the table to the street, from quiet moments to concrete mercy? What if the fast God favors sounds like chains clicking open, like a door swinging wide, like laughter returning to a room long silent? Isaiah sings about light breaking forth, about healing that arrives like the morning. Can you picture it? The gray giving way to gold, the chill giving way to warmth, the shadows scattering as the sun rises. This is God’s promise for people who welcome His way.

As we prepare to read, hear this word from a trusted voice: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” — Martin Luther King Jr., Letter from Birmingham Jail. If injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere, then compassion anywhere strengthens hope everywhere. The Lord of Isaiah 58 teaches us that worship can become a fountain of justice, and that fasting can become a feast of freedom for the hungry, the homeless, the hurting. He invites us to a faith that loosens knots, lifts burdens, and loves neighbors with sleeves rolled up and hearts wide open.

So, let your heart be hopeful. God is not far. He stands ready to light your path, to mend what is torn, to breathe fresh strength into tired bones. As we read Isaiah 58:1-8, listen for the cadence of His compassion and the clarity of His call. Listen for the promise of light and the nearness of healing. And let’s be ready to say, “Yes, Lord—teach us this fast You love.”

Scripture Reading — Isaiah 58:1-8 (KJV) 1 Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and shew my people their transgression, and the house of Jacob their sins. 2 Yet they seek me daily, and delight to know my ways, as a nation that did righteousness, and forsook not the ordinance of their God: they ask of me the ordinances of justice; they take delight in approaching to God. 3 Wherefore have we fasted, say they, and thou seest not? wherefore have we afflicted our soul, and thou takest no knowledge? Behold, in the day of your fast ye find pleasure, and exact all your labours. 4 Behold, ye fast for strife and debate, and to smite with the fist of wickedness: ye shall not fast as ye do this day, to make your voice to be heard on high. 5 Is it such a fast that I have chosen? a day for a man to afflict his soul? is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the LORD? 6 Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? 7 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? 8 Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the LORD shall be thy rereward.

Opening Prayer Father of Light, we come with open hands and hopeful hearts. Teach us the fast You love. Tune our ears to Your voice and our hearts to Your compassion. Where our worship has grown weary, breathe fresh fire. Where we have held tightly to our own comfort, loosen our grip. Open our eyes to the hungry, the hurting, the hidden, and make us quick to act with gentle courage and generous love. Let Your light break forth among us today—bright as morning, warm as mercy, strong as Your steadfast love. Heal what is broken, lift what is bowed down, and lead us in Your ways. In the name of Jesus, our Redeemer and Righteousness, Amen.

Confronting Hollow Fasting

God does not whisper here. He tells the prophet to raise his voice like a trumpet. There is a reason. People are doing holy things while hiding hurtful things. They show up. They ask for laws. They like to be near the altar. They also carry patterns that harm neighbors and harm workers. God brings all of it into the light.

They ask a hard question. Why fast if God does not notice? Why give up food if heaven stays quiet? The answer cuts deep. The day they fast is the day they chase profit and push people. They argue. They swing a fist. They try to pray louder, but the noise of harm is still in the room.

God points first at the workplace. “In the day of your fast you exact all your labors.” That line is sharp. It means bills come due from the weak while the strong stand behind policy. It means hours are long and wages are thin. It means time off is promised and then pulled back. It means tips get skimmed and breaks get denied. It means trade deals help the few and squeeze the many. A fast that pleases God steps into this field. Pay on time. Pay what is fair. Fix the schedule that wrecks a parent’s sleep. End the quota that crushes a body. Stop asking for free labor dressed up as “volunteer hours.” Tell the truth on contracts. If you manage people, set them up to live, not just to produce. If you are an owner, carry the cost that belongs to you. If you are a worker with power, guard those who have less. If you are a buyer, do not look away from how things are made. A holy day has no fine print that hurts the poor. This is part of what God calls a fast.

God also names the fights. “You fast for strife and debate, and to smite with the fist of wickedness.” Think about it. A day that should calm the heart turns into a stage for being right. People skip meals and still pick fights. They sit in a prayer circle and then blast someone online. They quote a verse and then insult a brother. Pain spreads. The fast becomes fuel for pride and rage. God says, stop. Lay down the need to win every argument. Put away the threat and the shove. Return the harsh word you wanted to send. Ask the person you hurt to speak, and listen without a defense. Make space for a go-between if trust is thin. Make a plan to repair what you broke. A fast that pleases God will quiet the feud. It will heal a team, a house, a small group. It will make room for soft voices that never get space.

Then God tells us what He wants. “To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke.” These are strong words. Bands. Burdens. Yokes. These are systems that press people down. Think of debt traps that never end. Think of bail that keeps the poor locked up. Think of laws that shut out a whole group from housing. Think of papers that block a path to work. Think of loans that strip wealth from a family for three generations. Think of addiction that owns a mind and wrecks a body. A fast that pleases God cuts straps. It funds bail for the nonviolent poor. It supports legal aid. It opens paths to jobs and child care. It stands with those who are crushed by fines and fees. It calls lawmakers. It learns the names and learns the data. It holds leaders to account. It refuses to accept “this is how it is.” It walks with a person until the yoke is off the neck. It keeps going until the policy is changed and the pattern is gone.

God goes even closer. “Deal your bread to the hungry. Bring the poor that are cast out to your house. When you see the naked, cover him. Do not hide yourself from your own flesh.” This is family talk. It means we see each person as kin. It means the table is not sealed off. It means the spare room is not always empty. It means the coat you never wear has a future on another back. It means grocery money gets set aside for those who ask and those who are ashamed to ask. It means we plan for care the same way we plan a vacation. Keep food bags in the car. Keep socks and hygiene kits ready. Give a card for a hot meal and stay to talk. Make a line in the budget for alms before the month starts. Partner with a shelter for host nights with safety and training. Join a network that supports foster families and kinship care. Welcome refugees with rides, rent help, and friendship. Sit with a person who is cold and learn their name. Do not look away when your cousin needs help. Do not look away when the stranger does too.

Empty fasting hides behind a look on the face. God sees through the look. He asks, “Is this a fast I have chosen? A day for a man to bow down his head?” He paints the picture. Heads bent low. Sackcloth spread. Ashes on the ground. All the right moves. The heart stays far from mercy. The hands stay clean of service. The prayers ask for a platform. The rituals make noise and leave the poor in the same place. God will not let that pass.

The words in this passage guard us from a thin sort of piety. They steer us into daily choices. They touch how we spend, how we hire, how we rest, how we speak. They shape how we plan a fast day and the day after. They turn our attention to those near us and those far from us. They ask for more than a plate left untouched.

There is also a promise in the text. “Then shall your light break forth as the morning, and your health shall spring forth speedily.” God ties light and health to mercy and justice. This is not a trick. This is how life works when God’s way fills a people. Clarity comes. Strength returns. Trust rises in a city when the hungry are fed and the worker is paid. Peace moves through a home when grudges lose air. The path in front of us gets bright.

Notice the next words. “Your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.” There is protection here. There is a sense of God before us and behind us. Think of a march that is guarded front and back. Think of a family that walks through a hard year and does not fall apart. Think of a church that spends itself on the poor and finds it is still strong. Obedience becomes a kind of shield.

This kind of teaching can feel heavy. It also gives hope. It tells us that our faith can make a real mark on real pain. It tells us that God is near to the ones who are overlooked. It tells us that our fast can touch the ground. It tells us that our prayers can have legs.

So take stock with courage. Ask simple questions. Who around me is unpaid, unseen, or under a load they cannot carry? What do I manage that I can change today? What can I give up this week so someone else can stand up? Where can I say sorry and start fresh? Write it down. Share it with a friend who will check in. Turn the day of fasting into a day of repair.

For many of us the first step is small. Bring lunch to a co-worker who has been skipping meals. Call the landlord with a tenant and help mediate. Cover a shift so a single mom can make a court date. Send a quiet gift to clear a light bill. Offer your skills for free to someone who is stuck in paperwork. Sign up to read with a child after school. Each act is like cutting a strand on a rope.

For some of us the step will be large. Change a policy at your company. Fund a scholarship for workers. Move money to a community lender that serves the poor with fair terms. Join others to push for fair housing. Start a clinic day for those without papers. Build a bridge between your church and a shelter that lasts for years. These steps are weighty. They also match the weight of the words in Isaiah.

When the people of God live this way, fasting stops being hollow. It becomes a sign that we mean what we pray. It shows up in calendars and bank ledgers and org charts and dinner tables. It touches a neighbor with warmth they can feel. It tells a city that God’s people are here for the long haul.

Practicing the Fast that Breaks Oppression

Practice begins with the verbs Isaiah piles up ... View this full PRO sermon free with PRO