Fasting Allows God’s Grace To Work

LOCAL NEWS Feb 7, 2026 0 70 Add to Reading List

Bishop Michael Izen / February 5, 2026

The next time I’ll have the opportunity to write this column, it will be the Easter season. So, I’m permitting myselfo share an early encouragement for the season of Lent.

About 30 years ago I started giving up television for Lent. It proved to be a challenging and difficult sacrifice, but also a good one — no sports games, no sports highlights, no police dramas, no shows, period. Every March, people would ask me if I was enjoying the NCAA Tournament, and I, half exasperated, would complain, “I can’t watch it!”

But it was good for me. As the years went on, I added fasting from videos on any devices (phone, laptop, etc.) and no radio or music apps. One benefit of this practice was that it freed up some time for valuable spiritual reading. But more important, I began to see the fruits of offering up this annual time of sacrifice for those in my life who were hurting and in need of God’s grace.

As Catholics, we fast during Lent not simply to practice self-denial, but to open ourselves more fully to the good that God wants to accomplish through us. If we are not careful, we can start to see our fasting as a private achievement. It can become almost performative. But instead, it should be an act of surrender that allows God’s grace to work through us —for our good and for the good of others. In our archdiocese today, where many individuals and families face hardship, instability and grief, this grace-filled dimension of fasting becomes especially important. Through God’s power, our small sacrifices can become channels of compassion, unity and healing for those who are suffering.

Fasting is often misunderstood as a test of willpower. But in the Catholic tradition, fasting is not about proving strength; it is about creating space for God. When we voluntarily give something up — whether food, comfort, convenience or excess — we make room for God’s grace to soften and reshape our hearts. The hunger pangs or moments of inconvenience become reminders not only of our dependence on God, but also of the countless people who do not choose their suffering. In our archdiocese, this includes our immigrant brothers and sisters, communities affected by violence, neighbors experiencing homelessness and families struggling with rising costs. Fasting becomes a way to remember them not abstractly, but spiritually, prayerfully and compassionately.

Scripture consistently ties fasting to acts of mercy and justice. The prophet Isaiah describes the fast God desires: one that loosens the bonds of injustice, shares bread with the hungry and does not turn its back on others. This makes it clear that fasting is not meant to end with us. It should overflow to others. And this is not something we accomplish on our own. It is God’s grace that takes our small offering and multiplies it. A quieter heart can become more attentive to the suffering of others. Through grace, our fasting can become fruitful for others.

These days, attentiveness to others seems especially urgent. Fasting during Lent can be a way of choosing not to look away from the suffering of others. But more than that, it can become a way of cooperating with God’s desire to bring peace and renewal to our archdiocese. When we fast, we are not simply denying ourselves, we are offering ourselves to God so that He can work through us for the healing of our community.In my experience, fasting also cultivates a spirit of unity and solidarity. When we willingly enter into even a small measure of discomfort, we gain a deeper understanding of what others endure daily. This does not romanticize suffering or pretend that voluntary sacrifice is equivalent to involuntary hardship. Instead, it builds empathy. It softens the heart. In a climate where divisions can feel stark and even insurmountable at times, we must seek true unity, which flows from Christ who always gathers what is scattered.I’ve also found that fasting can sharpen our focus. When life is cluttered with noise and constant motion, it becomes easy to overlook the suffering of others or to feel powerless in the face of it. Fasting slows the pace. It interrupts habits. It creates a moment to reflect on how God might be asking me to respond to the suffering of my brothers and sisters with humility. Our faith calls us to see Christ in every person — those who suffer from violence and those tasked with preventing it.

Finally, fasting opens the door to hope. The more we experience the season of Lent, the more we see that it is not a season of darkness; it is a season of preparation for resurrection. The act of fasting affirms that God is at work. Through grace, our fasting becomes part of God’s slow, steady work of renewal — one act of generosity, one moment of compassion, one shared burden at a time.

In this way, fasting during Lent becomes more than a personal spiritual discipline. It becomes an offering. And through God’s grace, even our smallest sacrifices can become instruments of healing and hope for others.