Empty Worship?
Isaiah 58 is one of those passages that refuses to let us stay comfortable. God speaks plainly, even sharply, to a people who are doing the right religious actions but for the wrong reasons. They are fasting. They are praying. They are showing up. And yet God says, in essence, “That’s not the fast I’m looking for.”
The people wonder why God seems distant. “Why have we fasted,” they ask, “and you have not seen it?” God’s response is sobering: your hearts aren’t aligned with your actions. Your fasting is wrapped up in self interest, control, and image, while your neighbors remain oppressed, hungry, and unseen. What you call worship has become centered on you.
That question still echoes today: What kind of fasting is this?
I think about how often we do good things without our hearts really being in them. Take something ordinary like trying to lose weight. You can follow the plan, count the calories, and even see some short term results. But if your heart isn’t actually committed to health, if the motivation is just guilt or comparison, it rarely lasts. Or think about advancing in a career field. You can grind, network, and climb, but if your heart isn’t connected to a sense of calling or purpose, the success often feels hollow. You achieved the goal, but you missed the deeper transformation.
Isaiah is pointing to that same disconnect in worship. God is not impressed by spiritual activity that is empty of love, justice, and humility. The problem isn’t fasting itself. The problem is fasting that is aimed at self improvement rather than God transformation.
God reframes fasting in Isaiah 58. True fasting loosens the chains of injustice. It shares bread with the hungry. It brings the homeless poor into shelter. It refuses to hide from our own kin. In other words, worship that pleases God always spills outward. It changes how we treat people. It reshapes our priorities. It moves us beyond ourselves.
This is where we need to hear a hard but freeing truth: our worship isn’t about our gain, it’s about our experience of God. Not what we get, how spiritual we appear, or whether we feel accomplished, but whether we are opening ourselves to the living God who longs to heal, restore, and send us.
When worship becomes transactional, we ask, “What do I get out of this?” When worship becomes relational, we ask, “Who am I becoming in God’s presence?”
Isaiah promises that when our worship aligns with God’s heart, something beautiful happens. Light breaks forth like the dawn. Healing springs up quickly. We become repairers of broken walls and restorers of streets to live in. These are not private blessings tucked away for personal satisfaction. They are public signs of God’s kingdom breaking into the world through a transformed people.
This passage invites us to examine our spiritual practices honestly. Why do we fast, pray, serve, or give? Are we trying to earn something, prove something, or fix ourselves? Or are we seeking to encounter God and be reshaped by God’s love?
The good news is that God is not scolding us away from worship. God is inviting us deeper into it. Away from empty religion. Toward embodied faith. Away from self centered piety. Toward lives that reflect God’s justice and compassion.
So maybe the question for us this week isn’t simply “Should I fast?” But rather, “What kind of fasting am I offering?”
May it be the kind that opens our hearts. The kind that draws us closer to God. And the kind that sends us back into the world as people of light, healing, and hope.
In God’s grip,
Pastor Chuck Church
