40-day fast for clean water - Are You Better Than Me?

Today I want to talk about the heart behind fasting—why we’re doing it, and why it matters more than we realize.

As a church, we’re stepping into a 40-day fast to dig at least one well in Africa. That will be our fourth well in 13 months. Unreached places. Places where people have never had clean water.

Some people have said, “I’ve got extra money, so I’ll just give and keep living the way I live.” You can do that. But I want to ask a question that the Lord asked me.

Are you better than me?

Because I can’t. And neither can a lot of people in this church. They have to fast to raise the money. They have to cut the budget. They have to feel the cost. And if we’re one body, we carry this together.

I’m coming out strong because I love you. When you don’t participate in what God is calling us to as a church family, you miss something. And what God wants to do in you through this fast is bigger than what it costs to get there.

Isaiah 58 is why I’m so passionate. God speaks to people who look spiritual on the outside, and He says, “You seek me day after day, you seem eager, you fast, you humble yourselves… and still something is off.”

He exposes the real issue: fasting that never touches the heart. Fasting that never becomes love. Fasting that never turns into freedom for someone else.

Then God defines the fast He chooses. He calls us to loose chains, untie cords, lift burdens, set people free, share food, shelter the vulnerable, clothe the exposed, and stop turning away from our own family.

And here’s what He promises when we fast like that: light breaking in, healing showing up, righteousness going ahead, God guarding behind, prayers being answered, guidance in dry places, strength in our frame, and lives becoming like a watered garden—like a spring that never fails.

That language should sound familiar, because we’re literally digging wells. And God is saying He wants to make you into one. A spring whose waters never fail.

This fast will loosen chains off of people in Africa, and it will loosen chains off of people in the American church. Chains of addiction. Chains of comfort. Chains of consumerism. Chains of overconsumption. Chains of “I’ll let someone else handle it.”

You can’t give what you don’t have. Freely you’ve received, freely give. If freedom hasn’t touched you, you’ll struggle to carry it to anyone else.

I’ve watched food addiction wreck people. I’ve watched comfort dull people. I buried one of my best friends because he was too big. That broke me. And I believe this fast will break something that needs to stay broken—so life can finally come back.

And fasting isn’t just spiritual. It’s also literal. God designed your body to run on two fuels: glucose (sugar) and fat (ketones). When you eat constantly, your body stays locked on sugar. When you fast, the switch flips. Your body reaches into the stored fuel it was designed to use.

In the same way, when we constantly feed the flesh, the spirit feels quiet. When we fast, something turns down—and something wakes up.

I saw this in my own story. The first time I fasted at a worship conference, the Lord opened the prophetic in me. I didn’t understand what was happening, but it was real. A week later, I saw an image in my spirit for someone’s son, and God used it. That never would have happened without fasting.

Prayer and fasting unlock who you are. They don’t create God’s presence. They uncover what He already placed inside you.

Later, I learned a different kind of fasting: fasting through poverty. When we had almost nothing, I fasted because we had to. I learned how a huge part of the world lives. They don’t “choose” it. It’s their reality.

So I’m going to ask it again. Are you better than them?

Then the Lord confronted me with this question in Philadelphia. I had just bought food. I saw a homeless man outside. I walked past him. I sat down to eat. And the Lord spoke so clearly: “Anthony… are you better than him?”

I couldn’t get away from it. So I went back out, sat next to him, and shared my sandwich. I didn’t just give food. We both gained something we didn’t have before: friendship, dignity, a moment of being seen.

This is what fasting is supposed to produce. Sharing. Proximity. Love that costs something.

That’s why I’m asking for half. Half your food budget. No going out to eat. Simple meals. One meal a day most days. Every ten days, a full day with no food. For forty days.

And I want you to hear this clearly: this is doable, and it can be abundant. Rice and beans. Oils. Salad. Low-cost protein. Popcorn for dessert. Simple food starts tasting incredible when you’re actually hungry.

When you plan, you realize what’s possible. If you don’t plan, you’ll keep telling yourself you can’t.

Our family has already put our seed in. We’re cutting our budget and we’re giving. We’re choosing to stop spending on “out to eat” and “out to coffee” so that villages can stop living in water slavery.

And yes—water slavery is real. If you don’t have a well, you walk to whatever water you can find. You fight for it. You pay for it. You drink dirty water. You get sick. You spend money just to survive. Generations are trapped in it.

And you can help end it by eating one meal a day. For forty days.

Now I want to put Jesus’ words in front of us, because Matthew 25 is as clear as it gets. He separates sheep and goats. He welcomes the sheep into inheritance. Then He tells us why.

“I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me. I was sick and you cared. I was in prison and you came.”

The righteous are shocked because they don’t remember doing it “for Jesus.” They did it for the least, and Jesus counted it as ministry to Him.

Then He turns to the goats, and the issue isn’t church attendance. The issue is love that never became action. Need that never became response. Compassion that stayed theoretical.

This isn’t a soft passage. It’s Jesus. And He’s telling us what matters to Him.

So I’ll ask it the way I asked our church. Are you better than me?

And then I’ll ask it the way the Lord presses it deeper. Are you better than Jesus?

Because when you see a need you can help meet, and you refuse, a statement is being made.

We are doing a 40-day fast for clean water. Not a lifestyle of misery. Forty days of love. Forty days of saying, “We belong to each other.” Forty days of saying, “We’re not better than the poor.” Forty days of saying, “We’re not too important to share.”

I’m aware that some people still won’t do it, no matter how clear the Word is. And that breaks my heart. Not because it affects me. Because it affects what God wants to unlock in you.

I believe there is revival waiting inside of people who are willing to silence the flesh and awaken the spirit. I believe there is a freedom you haven’t touched yet, and fasting is one of the ways God leads us into it.

So we’re going together. We’re digging wells. We’re breaking chains. We’re learning to love Jesus in a way that reaches beyond our own comfort.

Jesus, teach us how to love You. Teach us how to see You. Teach us how to honor You above our appetites. Sustain Your people with conviction and joy. Let hunger become a doorway to You. Let this fast end slavery and awaken the Church. In Jesus’ name. Amen.