I’m going to say something that might get me unfollowed by half my feed: Gen Z is actually the most spiritually disciplined generation of the modern era, and they are doing it with a practice that Boomers abandoned decades ago.
We talk a lot about the "deconstruction" trend. The exodus from pews. The "spiritual but not religious" label that gets thrown around like confetti. But here is the dirty little secret of the faith world right now: while the institutional church is trying to figure out how to make worship services "cooler" with fog machines and LED walls, a significant chunk of young believers are ditching the production value for something far more radical.
They are fasting.
Not the "I skipped lunch because I was busy" kind of fasting. I’m talking about the actual, dusty, ancient, biblical discipline of abstaining from food (and sometimes social media) for extended periods to seek God. It’s the discipline we shelved alongside the flannelgraph and the altar call. And it is roaring back to life.
The Death of the "Diet-Plan" Fast
Let’s be honest about why we abandoned this. For the past fifty years, the Western church turned fasting into a weird, transactional magic trick. It was the "Daniel Fast" (which was really just a keto-vegan hybrid with a verse attached), or the "Breakthrough Fast" where you starved yourself for 21 days to force God’s hand on a financial miracle. We treated it like a spiritual credit card—swipe a meal, get a blessing.
That version of fasting is dead. It deserves to be.
But here’s what most people miss: Gen Z isn't reviving that version. They are reviving the ancient version. They are looking at a culture that is drowning in sensory overload—where every second of silence is filled with a podcast, and every hunger pang is immediately soothed with DoorDash—and they are realizing that the only way to hear God is to turn off the noise, literally.
I’ve found that for my generation (and the one below me), fasting isn't about getting something from God. It’s about unplugging from the matrix of consumption.
Why the "Anxious Generation" Needs Empty Stomachs
We have to look at the psychological landscape here. This is the generation raised on the dopamine drip. We are the first generation to have never known a world without the infinite scroll. Our brains are wired to seek immediate gratification, and our relationship with food often mirrors our relationship with media—we consume to feel better, not because we are hungry.
So, when a 22-year-old decides to give up Instagram for Lent or fast from sunrise to sunset, they aren't just being religious. They are performing an act of rebellion against the algorithm.
Fasting is the ultimate "Do Not Disturb" sign for the soul.
In a world where we are constantly told that we are what we consume—whether that be content, calories, or consumer goods—fasting is a loud, physical declaration that I am more than my appetites. It is the only spiritual discipline that requires your body to participate. Meditation is mental. Prayer is vocal. But fasting? Fasting hurts. It forces you to sit in the discomfort of your own hunger, and in that discomfort, you are forced to ask the hard question: What am I actually hungry for?
The Rise of the "Liturgical" Fast
I’ve noticed a specific trend among my readers and friends in their early twenties. They aren't just doing random "personal" fasts. They are flocking to the ancient church calendar. They are observing Advent and Lent with a rigor that would make a Puritan blush.
Why? Because the liturgical calendar offers a rhythm that modern life lacks.
We live in a world of 24/7 access. Nothing is sacred; nothing is set apart. But when you decide that Ash Wednesday starts a 40-day season of intentionality, you are building a fence around your time that says, "This belongs to God."
I recently spoke to a college student who told me she was giving up all forms of entertainment for Lent—not just social media, but music, movies, and even podcasts. I asked her why she was being so extreme. She said, "I need to remember that God is enough, and I can't do that if I'm constantly filling my ears with someone else's voice."
That is the heart of the revival. It’s not about legalism; it’s about attention. It’s about reclaiming the bandwidth that our phones have stolen and offering it back to the Creator.
The "Gut" Check: Physical and Spiritual
Here is where I get a little controversial. I think the Church has done a massive disservice by separating the spiritual from the physical. We act like the body is just a taxi for the soul—something to be fed and rested so we can do "spiritual" things.
But the Bible is radically physical. Jesus didn't just teach; He broke bread. He didn't just pray; He sweated blood. And when He fasted for forty days in the wilderness, He did so in a body that was physically starving.
Fasting connects the physical hunger to the spiritual hunger.
When you skip that meal, your blood sugar drops. You get a headache. You feel weak. And in that weakness, you realize that your self-sufficiency is an illusion. You need God for your next breath just as much as you need Him for your next meal. It is the ultimate practice of surrender.
Let’s be honest—most of us don't surrender until we are forced to. Fasting is choosing to force that surrender voluntarily, before a crisis hits.
How to Actually Start (And Not Fail)
If you are reading this and feeling a twinge of conviction, let me save you from the biggest mistake you will make. Do not try to do a 21-day juice fast next week. That is how we burn out.
Here is the practical guide to joining this comeback:
- Start Small: Begin with a 24-hour fast (sunset to sunset) or skip two consecutive meals. Don't announce it to the world; just do it.
- Replace, Don't Just Remove: The point isn't an empty stomach; it's a full spirit. When you feel the hunger pang, that is your alarm clock. Use that moment to pray—even if it’s just a whispered "Help me."
- Pick a Focus: Don't just fast from food; fast from the feeling of lack. If you are fasting from social media, don't spend that time on Netflix. Read the Psalms. Sit in silence. It will feel awkward. That's good.
- Expect a Fight: The enemy of your soul doesn't care if you skip a meal. He cares if you break through to clarity. You will get cranky. You will get tempted to quit. Push through the wall at hour 18.
The Counter-Cultural Witness
Perhaps the most compelling reason this discipline is making a comeback is that it is the ultimate counter-cultural witness.
We live in a world that worships at the altar of self-care. We are told to never be hungry, never be uncomfortable, and never deny ourselves anything. The idea of voluntarily suffering—even a little bit—is seen as toxic or oppressive.
But Gen Z believers are looking at the results of that "self-care" gospel. They see the anxiety, the depression, and the emptiness that comes from a life devoted entirely to self-fulfillment. And they are saying, "There has to be more."
Fasting declares that there is a reality beyond the physical. It declares that you are not a slave to your biology or your cravings. It is the most freeing practice I have ever encountered.
I’ve found that when I fast, the "voice" of the world gets quieter, and the "voice" of the Spirit gets clearer. It doesn't make sense logically—starving yourself to feel fuller? But that is the paradox of the Kingdom.
Is This Just Another Trend?
You might be thinking, "Laura, this is just another wellness fad wrapped in a Jesus t-shirt." And sure, there is a risk of that. We live in a culture that commodifies everything. But I don't think so.
Trends are about self-improvement. Disciplines are about self-death.
Fasting is not about making you better; it is about making you less, so that He can become more. It’s a practice that has survived for 2,000 years because it works. It breaks bondages. It brings clarity. It humbles the proud.
If you’ve been feeling spiritually stagnant, if your prayer life feels like you’re talking to a brick wall, I dare you to try this. Not because I said so, but because your soul is starving for something that a full plate will never give you.
The comeback is real. The question is—are you hungry enough to join it?
