RAVENOUS APPETITES

The Forgotten Discipline: Why We've Lost Our Ability to Say No

Shakespeare said "all the world's a stage." What he failed to mention is that the stage has on it a seemingly endless banquet table for insatiable, albeit proverbial, stomachs. Even the casual observer in this world full of delightful tables can conclude that we are a people with most ravenous appetites.

Much has been said in recent years of the ever-expanding size of our daily meals and the super-sized messages plastered on the windows and menus of nearly all fast-food restaurants, and for good reason. Ours is a society that shuns limits, loathes restriction, and vehemently despises boundaries. Gone are the days of denying oneself, for such a concept is nearly alien in the minds of most Americans; taboo is the idea of abstinence.

Yet in embracing this "all you can eat" perspective of life, we have become an undisciplined society of the sinfully obese. Christian liberty, no matter one's understanding, has in many cases become a license for indulgence. Moderation is a forgotten word and Christian liberty is a misunderstood concept. Consequently, our problem is not found in the inability of our society to embrace the freedom to partake but rather in its inability to abstain.

The Tyranny of Unexamined Freedom

Here's the uncomfortable truth: what we call freedom often functions as slavery in disguise. We pride ourselves on our liberty to choose, our autonomy to consume, our right to indulge, all while remaining blind to the chains we're forging with each unconsidered "yes." The man who cannot say no to his smartphone is not free. The woman who cannot fast from social media is not liberated. The believer who cannot abstain from legitimate pleasures has not discovered liberty. They've discovered bondage with better marketing.

Certainly, there are those who live a fruitful and unburdened life of moderation. Nevertheless, I suspect that outnumbered to a great degree are those who have attempted a life of measured indulgence, only to find themselves slaves to a faceless master. Is there room in the life of a believer for abstinence, or have we developed so demanding an appetite that we dare not deprive ourselves of even a glimpse of temporary pleasure?

What Abstinence Actually Is

In his book The Spirit of the Disciplines, Dallas Willard states: "In the discipline of abstinence, we abstain to some degree and for some time from the satisfaction of what we generally regard as normal and legitimate desires. 'Normal' desires include our basic drives or motivations, such as those for food, sleep, bodily activity, companionship, curiosity, and sex. But our desires for convenience, comfort, material security, reputation or fame, and variety are also considered under this heading."

Notice what Willard is not saying. He's not calling us to renounce the good gifts of God. He's not advocating for some gnostic hatred of the body or creation. He's describing something far more subversive: the practice of occasionally saying "no" to good things so that we might say a fuller "yes" to the best things.

Admittedly, this discipline of abstinence is not something that most have a great deal of familiarity with, and I would venture to say that I am in the stream of the majority rather than the minority. We've been discipled by a culture that treats every "no" as deprivation and every "yes" as empowerment. We've forgotten that the muscle of spiritual strength is built not through constant consumption but through strategic abstinence.

Why Abstinence Matters More Than You Think

Consider the words of William Law: "If religion requires us sometimes to fast, and deny our natural appetites, it is to lessen that struggle and war that is in our nature, it is to render our bodies fitter instruments of purity, and more obedient to the good motions of Divine grace; it is to dry up the springs of our passions that war against the soul, to cool the flame of our blood, and render the mind more capable of Divine meditations. So that although these abstinences give some pain to the body, yet they so lessen the power of bodily appetites and passions and so increase our taste of spiritual joys, that even these severities of religion, when practiced with discretion, add much to the comfortable enjoyment of our lives."

Law understood what we've forgotten: abstinence is not the enemy of joy but its prerequisite. The person who cannot fast from food will struggle to feast on God. The believer who cannot abstain from entertainment will find it difficult to attend to the Spirit. The Christian who has never practiced saying "no" to their body will find it nearly impossible to say "yes" to God's will when it costs them something.

The Stakes Are Higher Than We Realize

Here's what's at stake: our spiritual vitality, our witness to a watching world, and our capacity to love God and neighbor with undivided hearts. A church full of believers who cannot practice abstinence is a church that has lost its prophetic edge. We become indistinguishable from the culture around us, not because we're contextualizing the gospel, but because we've been conquered by the same appetites that enslave our neighbors.

The world doesn't need to see Christians who can justify their consumption patterns with prooftexts. The world needs to see people who are so satisfied in God that they can actually say "no" to lesser goods. They need to witness a community that has discovered a freedom so profound that it can abstain from legitimate pleasures without resentment or self-righteousness.

The Challenge Before Us

Next Steps: A Practical Path Forward

If these words have convicted you (and if they haven't, you might want to reread them), here are some concrete steps to begin recovering the discipline of abstinence:

1. Start Small and Specific

Don't attempt a forty-day fast from social media if you've never successfully fasted from anything. Begin with a single meal. Skip breakfast once a week and spend that time in prayer. Turn off your phone for two hours on Saturday. The goal is not heroic displays of willpower but the slow cultivation of spiritual muscle.

2. Identify Your Functional Saviors

What do you reach for when you're bored? Anxious? Lonely? Angry? That thing, whether it's your phone, food, entertainment, shopping, or even productivity, is likely a functional savior in your life. Practice abstaining from it regularly, and watch what happens to your soul in the void. The discomfort you feel is diagnostic.

3. Fast With Purpose, Not Performance

Abstinence is not about impressing God or others with your discipline. It's about creating space for God to work. When you fast, replace the time and energy you would have spent on the thing you're abstaining from with prayer, Scripture, silence, or service. Empty space in the spiritual life is dangerous; fill it with God.

4. Embrace Community

Don't attempt this alone. Find one or two trusted believers and commit to practicing abstinence together. Share your struggles, celebrate your small victories, and confess when you fail. The discipline of abstinence is not meant to be a private spiritual achievement but a communal practice that shapes us into Christ's image together.

5. Expect Resistance

Your flesh will howl. Your mind will rationalize. Your circumstances will conspire to make abstinence inconvenient. This is normal. The resistance you feel is proof that you're touching something real, something that has genuine power over you. Don't be surprised by the struggle; be more concerned if there is no struggle at all.

6. Remember the Goal

Abstinence is not the destination; it's the vehicle. The goal is not to become an ascetic who despises God's good gifts but a disciple who loves God more than those gifts. You're not trying to prove you can live without food, entertainment, or comfort. You're trying to prove that you can live without anything except God. There's a profound difference.

A Final Word

The culture will tell you that freedom means unlimited access and zero restrictions. The gospel tells you that freedom means becoming so captivated by Christ that you can actually choose to say "no" to good things for the sake of the best thing.

Which story are you living?

The banquet table is still there. The question is: are you free enough to walk away from it?

For Further Reflection:

1. What legitimate desire or pleasure in your life has become, if you're honest, non-negotiable?

2. When was the last time you voluntarily abstained from something good simply to demonstrate to yourself and to God that you could?

3. If you were to practice abstinence this week, what would be the most difficult thing to give up? That might be exactly where you need to start.