For Such a Time as This: A Reflection on Prayer, Fasting, and Our Current Moment

Grace and peace to you, dear friends in Christ.

These past few days, as I read Bishop Ortiz’s call to prayer and fasting, I found myself reflecting on how unusual this invitation feels for many of us in the Lutheran tradition. Fasting, outside of perhaps the season of Lent, is not something most Lutherans practice regularly. In fact, for many of us, fasting can seem foreign—something more associated with other Christian traditions or even with political protest than with our own spiritual lives.

As Lutherans, our tradition has not regularly practiced fasting as a spiritual practice. Lent might be the only time in our journey through the church year where we step our toe into the fasting waters by giving something up as a small sacrifice to draw us closer to God.

But even then, fasting is not a law or requirement for us; it’s an opportunity, not an obligation. Our tradition has always been careful to remind us that our relationship with God is not about what we do or don’t do, but about what Christ has done for us.

Yet, the biblical witness is clear: Jesus assumed his followers would fast, just as he assumed we would pray. And while fasting may not be an “American virtue”—we are more accustomed to indulging our desires than denying them—it remains a practice that can open us to God’s presence in new ways.

So why consider fasting now? Why this call, and why here, in the D.C. area?

The answer, I think, lies in the world around us. We are living through a season of deep uncertainty and division. The headlines are filled with violence, political turmoil, and the ache of injustice. Here in the nation’s capital, we feel these tensions acutely. Our city is a crossroads of power and protest, hope and heartbreak. The weight of the world’s anxieties presses in on us, and it is easy to feel overwhelmed or numb.

In such a time, the call to prayer and fasting is not about following a tradition for tradition’s sake. It is about making space—space for God’s voice, for honest lament, and for the Spirit’s quiet work in our hearts and in our community. Fasting, even if it is not our usual practice, can become a way to clear away the noise and distractions that keep us from noticing God’s presence and our own deep hunger for justice, peace, and hope.

What moves me most about this invitation is that it is not just for individuals, but for all of us together. Across our synod, we are being asked to pause, to pray, and to fast—not out of obligation, but out of longing. We do this not because it is easy or familiar, but because the times demand it. We do this because we trust that God meets us in our hunger and our hope.

If fasting is new to you, start small. Skip a meal or set aside a favorite treat. Use that time to pray—honestly, simply, even if all you can manage is, “Lord, have mercy.” Know that you are not alone; your siblings in Christ are praying and fasting with you.

“For such a time as this.” These words remind us that God places us in particular moments for a reason. We may not feel ready or equipped, but God is at work, even now, in and through us. Let us answer this call together, trusting that God will use even our small acts of prayer and fasting to bring hope and healing to our city, our nation, and our world.

In the heart of Jesus,

Pastor Eric+