If you’ve been reading here for a while, you know I try to give something up for Lent each year. Not as a stunt. Not as a biohack. But as a way of taking inventory of my appetites.

Two years ago, I gave up alcohol. Last year, it was social media. Both of those were revealing. Not because either was catastrophic in my life, but because they were easy. Too easy. They were defaults. After stepping away, I came back with far more control. I drink far less. I scroll far less. The point was never permanent abstinence. The point was mastery. Or at least, moving in that direction.

“You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” – Marcus Aurelius

Lent, for me, has become a season of recalibration. A deliberate narrowing so that I can widen later with intention.

This Year: Fasting

This year I am focusing on fasting. Part of that is very practical. I am at my highest weight, and I don’t feel good in my own body. My clothes are tighter than they should be. My energy is not where it used to be. And being prediabetic is not an abstract warning, it is a flashing light on the dashboard.

Health begins, quite literally, with what we put into our bodies. Scripture is not shy about the body being a temple, but biology says the same thing in a different language: inputs shape outcomes. Fasting, for me, is not just about restraint; it is about recalibrating my relationship with food, insulin, and appetite. It is about giving my body a chance to reset metabolically, improving insulin sensitivity, reducing constant glucose spikes, and reminding myself that hunger does not have to be answered immediately. I want the spiritual fruit, yes, but I also want to feel strong, disciplined, and aligned in my own skin again.

Yes, there are health benefits. I am not pretending there aren’t. Intermittent fasting and even prolonged fasting (up to about 72 hours) have been associated with:

• Improved insulin sensitivity
• Increased metabolic flexibility (switching from glucose to fat as fuel)
• Deeper ketosis
• Reduced IGF-1 signaling (linked in some studies to cellular stress resistance)
• Possible activation of autophagy pathways
• Short-term reductions in blood pressure and glucose

I am aiming for 72 hours. That is my goal. I do not plan to go longer than that. But if I am honest, the physical benefits are not the main reason.

The Real Battle: Instant Gratification

I have an issue with instant gratification. I suspect we all do. We live in an age where hunger is optional, boredom is avoidable, and desire is instantly answered. Want food? Delivered. Want stimulation? Scroll. Want affirmation? Post. The problem is not pleasure; pleasure is part of being human. The problem is compulsion. Overindulgence is subtle. It rarely announces itself as a vice. It whispers that one more is harmless—one more drink, one more episode, one more swipe, one more snack. And before we notice, habit has quietly taken the wheel. Fasting confronts that voice directly. It does not argue with it. It simply refuses it. It says: you will feel hunger—and you will not immediately answer it. That is powerful.

“The discipline of abstinence is the practice of saying no to ourselves.”

Fasting forces me to sit with desire without obeying it. It exposes how quickly my body, and sometimes my mind, wants relief. It reminds me that not every urge deserves satisfaction. This is not self-punishment. It is training. It’s the essence of discipline.

Discipline as Expansion

Interestingly, I already have discipline in certain areas of my life. Work. Study. Long term projects. Strategic thinking. I can plan, execute, and endure. But discipline is not universal just because it exists somewhere. It needs to expand. There are corners in all our lives that need cleaning. If I can fast for seventy two hours with intention, prayer, and clarity, then perhaps I can extend that same internal strength into other appetites. Food is simply the most obvious and ancient of them. There is something deeply human about choosing hunger, and something deeply spiritual about it.

“Man does not live by bread alone.” – Deuteronomy 8:3

When hunger sharpens, prayer sharpens. When the body quiets, the mind often clears.

Clarity and Study

One practical reality of fasting is that you need to stay engaged. Not frantic, but purposeful. Idleness makes hunger louder. Intention gives it context. When the body is denied its usual rhythms, the mind has a choice. It can drift toward irritation, or it can turn toward formation.

As part of this Lenten discipline, I have returned to Dallas Willard, especially his work on discipleship. I have also continued thinking through a study on Perichoretic Salvation. That vision of salvation is not merely a transaction or a legal exchange. It is participation in the life of the Trinity. If salvation is participation, then discipline is preparation. If we are meant to share in divine life, then our wills must be trained to cooperate with grace rather than resist it.

In that sense, fasting becomes less about calories and more about consent. It becomes concrete theology lived in the body. What does it look like to align my daily habits with the kind of person I am becoming? If perichoresis is divine self-giving love in motion, then I must learn to govern the self before I can give it rightly. This is not ascetic heroics. It is apprenticeship.

Where I Am Now

As I write this, I am forty eight hours into my first attempt. My goal is seventy two hours. That number feels both manageable and intimidating. At forty eight hours, the novelty has worn off. The body is no longer surprised. It is simply persistent. And that is where the real work begins.

What has surprised me most is not the hunger. In fact, I have noticed that I am often not physically hungry at all. Yet I still go for food. Eating, I am realizing, is something I do in conjunction with other things. Watching television. Reading. Working at my desk. Driving. Food has become a companion activity. A background rhythm. When I deny myself during this fast, I notice how often I am simply on autopilot. I reach for food not because my body needs fuel, but because the moment feels incomplete without it. That has been sobering. So much of my daily routine seems quietly centered on eating.

I feel the pull. The voice that says, you have done enough. The mind is remarkably creative when it wants relief. It offers reasonable sounding arguments. It suggests compromise. It reframes quitting as prudence. The rationalizations begin earlier than I expected. But this is precisely the point. The fast is not about proving toughness or chasing some mystical experience. It is about noticing the voice and choosing, calmly, not to obey it. It is about extending mastery into another corner of my life that has long operated on autopilot.

I do not plan to go longer than seventy two hours. I am not trying to become a desert father or an ascetic spectacle. I am trying to become a slightly more integrated version of myself. Two years ago it was alcohol. Last year it was social media. This year it is hunger. Each discipline peels back a layer. Each one reveals where I am stronger than I thought and where I am weaker than I would like to admit.

I will let you know how it goes at the end of Lent. For now, I am learning that hunger is not an emergency. It does not require immediate resolution. It can be observed. It can be endured. It can even teach. And sometimes the body must be quieted so the soul can speak more clearly.

Excerpt

This Lent I am fasting for seventy two hours, not only for metabolic health and prediabetes, but to confront autopilot habits and instant gratification. Hunger has revealed how much of my life orbits food. Discipline, theology, and self-mastery meet here. Sometimes restraint teaches more than indulgence ever could.

References

• Anton, S. D., Moehl, K., Donahoo, W. T., et al. (2018). Flipping the metabolic switch: Understanding and applying the health benefits of fasting. Obesity, 26(2), 254–268.
• Cheng, C.-W., Adams, G. B., Perin, L., et al. (2014). Prolonged fasting reduces IGF-1/PKA to promote hematopoietic-stem-cell–based regeneration. Cell Stem Cell, 14(6), 810–823.
• Mehanna, H. M., Moledina, J., & Travis, J. (2008). Refeeding syndrome. BMJ, 336, 1495–1498.
• N. Lirien. (2024, February 14). Personal journey through Ash Wednesday and Lent. TOTEF. https://totef.org/2024/02/14/personal-journey-through-ash-wednesday-and-lent/
• N. Lirien. (2024, March 18). Lenten journey update: St. Patrick’s Day. TOTEF. https://totef.org/2024/03/18/lenten-journey-update-st-patricks-day/
• da Silva, J. S. V., et al. (2020). ASPEN consensus recommendations for refeeding syndrome. Nutrition in Clinical Practice.
• Sanvictores, T., et al. (2023). Physiology, fasting. StatPearls.
• Scharf, E., et al. (2022). The effects of prolonged water-only fasting and refeeding on cardiometabolic markers. [PMC article].