Matthew begins this verse with the word “Then,” tying the question directly to what has just taken place.

Jesus had called Matthew away from the receipt of custom, and Matthew had followed Him. Soon afterward, Jesus sat at a meal with publicans, sinners, and His disciples. The Pharisees objected to the company He kept, asking, “Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners?” (Matthew 9:11). Jesus answered that He had come as a physician for the spiritually sick and as a Savior calling sinners to repentance.

Now another question arises.

The Pharisees had questioned why Jesus ate with certain people. The disciples of John questioned why His disciples were eating at all rather than fasting. One group objected to His companions; the other struggled with His manner of life.

This is an important development in Matthew’s account. Jesus didn’t fit the religious expectations of the people around Him. He was perfectly holy, yet His holiness didn’t look like the Pharisees’ separation. He called sinners to repentance, yet His ministry didn’t carry the constant outward severity that some apparently expected from a serious religious teacher.

John the Baptist had lived an unusually austere life. Matthew tells us that “his raiment [was] of camel’s hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins; and his meat was locusts and wild honey” (Matthew 3:4). His ministry had also sounded an urgent call to repentance in preparation for the coming kingdom.

Those who had followed John may therefore have expected Jesus and His disciples to display a similar pattern of visible self-denial. Instead, they saw Jesus attending a feast in Matthew’s house.

They were trying to make sense of what they saw.

A Question That May Have Been Sincere

Matthew doesn’t say that John’s disciples approached Jesus with the hostility repeatedly displayed by the Pharisees. We should therefore be careful not to assign motives the text doesn’t reveal.

They may have been genuinely confused.

Their question was direct: “Why do we and the Pharisees fast oft, but thy disciples fast not?” They didn’t whisper about Jesus from a safe distance. They came to Him and asked.

That was the right direction, even if the question contained a mistaken assumption. When something about Christ’s words or ways confuses us, we should bring the matter to Him through prayer and Scripture rather than building conclusions from our limited understanding.

At the same time, their wording reveals the standard by which they were measuring Jesus’ disciples. They compared one visible religious practice with another: We fast. The Pharisees fast. Your disciples don’t. Why?

The question assumes that frequent fasting is necessarily evidence of greater spiritual seriousness. Yet that conclusion doesn’t automatically follow. A person may fast out of sincere grief, repentance, and dependence upon God. Another person may fast to impress others, establish a religious reputation, or feel spiritually superior. The empty stomach may look the same from the outside, while the hearts are entirely different.

Visible practices are easy to count. We can count meals missed, prayers offered, services attended, chapters read, money given, and hours volunteered. What we can’t so easily measure is humility, love, repentance, faith, or the motive of the heart.

That doesn’t make outward obedience unimportant. It means outward obedience must arise from a heart submitted to God.

The Purpose Behind the Practice

The problem in Matthew 9:14 wasn’t fasting itself.

Fasting has an honorable place throughout Scripture. God’s people fasted during seasons of grief, repentance, danger, earnest prayer, and the seeking of divine guidance. Through the prophet Joel, God said: “Therefore also now, saith the LORD, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning” (Joel 2:12).

Jesus also assumed that His followers would fast. In the Sermon on the Mount, He didn’t say, “If ye fast,” but: “Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance” (Matthew 6:16).

After Christ’s ascension, believers continued the practice. As the church at Antioch sought the Lord, Scripture says: “As they ministered to the Lord, and fasted, the Holy Ghost said, Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them” (Acts 13:2).

Biblical fasting is the temporary setting aside of food, and sometimes other ordinary comforts, so that a person may give focused attention to seeking God. It may express grief over sin, dependence during difficulty, or earnestness in prayer. It reminds us that our deepest need isn’t bread, comfort, or physical satisfaction, but God Himself.

Yet fasting was never given as a device for earning God’s favor. It can’t forgive sin, purchase righteousness, or place God under obligation. It doesn’t make a person spiritually mature merely because they’ve gone without food.

Fasting is a useful servant, but it becomes a cruel master when it’s turned into a test of worthiness.

Isaiah confronted people who fasted outwardly while continuing in strife, oppression, and selfishness. God asked: “Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free?” (Isaiah 58:6).

The Lord wasn’t dismissing fasting. He was exposing the emptiness of religious self-denial that left the heart and life unchanged. Missing a meal while mistreating another person is not impressive worship. The stomach may be empty while pride enjoys a full banquet.

The Right Practice at the Wrong Time

Jesus answered John’s disciples in the following verse: “Can the children of the bridechamber mourn, as long as the bridegroom is with them? but the days will come, when the bridegroom shall be taken from them, and then shall they fast” (Matthew 9:15).

His answer shows that the issue wasn’t simply whether fasting was right or wrong. The issue was whether it was fitting for that particular moment.

A wedding isn’t the normal time for mourning. The arrival of the bridegroom calls for gladness. Jesus was presenting Himself as the Bridegroom whose presence brought the promised joy of salvation. The long-awaited Christ had come. Sinners were being called, forgiven, restored, and welcomed. Matthew had left his old life and was following the Lord. This wasn’t the time for His disciples to behave as though the Bridegroom were absent.

Fasting would have its proper time. Jesus plainly said, “then shall they fast.” His disciples would experience sorrow when He was taken from them. After His departure, fasting would continue as a fitting expression of prayer, longing, dependence, and earnest devotion.

Therefore, Matthew 9 doesn’t contradict Matthew 6.

In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches His disciples how to fast without hypocrisy. In Matthew 9, He explains why they weren’t fasting during a particular season. One passage regulates the practice; the other establishes its proper timing and meaning.

A command may be good while its careless application is wrong. Tears are appropriate at a funeral but troubling at a wedding. Celebration is fitting at a wedding but insensitive at a funeral. Wisdom knows not only what’s permitted, but what is fitting in the presence of God.

John’s disciples had recognized a legitimate spiritual discipline, but they hadn’t yet understood that the presence of Christ changed the meaning of the moment.

When Tradition Becomes a Measuring Stick

The question also warns us about the danger of turning personal or inherited practices into universal standards.

John’s disciples could say, “we…fast oft.” The Pharisees could say the same. Both groups had an established pattern. Because the pattern was familiar, it may have seemed unquestionably right.

But familiarity isn’t the same as divine authority.

A practice may be wise, helpful, and deeply meaningful without being commanded for every believer in the same manner or at the same frequency. Trouble begins when we move silently from “This helps me seek God” to “Everyone who truly seeks God must do exactly what I do.”

That’s how a spiritual discipline becomes a measuring stick.

The Pharisees regularly elevated human traditions until those traditions carried the weight of divine commandments. Jesus later said to them: “Thus have ye made the commandment of God of none effect by your tradition” (Matthew 15:6).

John’s disciples shouldn’t simply have copied the Pharisees, nor should Jesus’ disciples have copied John’s followers without understanding the purpose of their practice. The presence and teaching of Christ had to govern their devotion.

The same principle remains true today. Christ, not religious custom, is Lord of Christian worship. Scripture, not personal preference, determines what God requires.

That doesn’t mean traditions are always bad. A regular time of prayer, a pattern of fasting, a particular schedule for Bible reading, or an established form of worship may serve us well. Good traditions can preserve wisdom and encourage faithfulness.

They become dangerous when we confuse them with Scripture, use them to judge the spirituality of others, or continue them mechanically after their biblical purpose has been forgotten.

Two Opposite Distortions

Matthew 9:14 guards us against two opposite errors.

The first is asceticism, the belief that severe treatment of the body produces spiritual merit or superior holiness. Some religious systems have treated ordinary physical life as though the body itself were evil and deprivation is inherently righteous.

Scripture rejects that idea. Food, marriage, rest, and the material creation are gifts of God when received according to His will. Paul warned against man-made regulations involving “neglecting of the body,” explaining that such things may have “a shew of wisdom” while lacking power against sinful desires (Colossians 2:21–23).

Sin doesn’t live in food. It lives in the human heart. Going hungry can’t cleanse a guilty conscience. Only the blood of Christ can do that.

The second error is the claim that fasting has no place in Christian life because Jesus’ disciples weren’t fasting here. Christ’s own answer rules out that conclusion: “then shall they fast.” The practice continues, but it must remain centered upon God rather than human praise, religious pride, or spiritual manipulation.

Christian devotion is neither constant self-indulgence nor self-inflicted misery. It’s life ordered under the lordship of Jesus Christ. There are times to feast with gratitude and times to fast with earnestness. Both may glorify God when governed by His Word.

Practicing Devotion Under the Lordship of Christ

Matthew 9:14 asks us to examine not only what spiritual practices we observe, but why we observe them and how we use them.

We should first ask whether our devotion is directed toward God or displayed before people. Jesus had already warned against fasting with a disfigured face so that others would notice. A discipline that begins as an expression of humility can quietly become a source of pride. We may feel superior because we pray longer, read more, give more, abstain more strictly, or follow a more demanding routine.

The practice may be good, while the pride attached to it is sinful.

We also need to resist comparing our private walk with another believer’s visible habits. You may know how often someone attends church, but not how sincerely they worship. You may notice that another believer doesn’t follow your fasting schedule, but you don’t know the burdens they carry, the prayers they offer, or the obedience God is working in their life.

This doesn’t mean the Church should abandon accountability or refuse to recognize spiritual fruit. Scripture gives clear standards of doctrine, holiness, love, and conduct. We must address open sin and false teaching. But we shouldn’t invent additional tests of faithfulness where God hasn’t spoken.

A believer who fasts shouldn’t despise the one who doesn’t fast at the same time. A believer who doesn’t fast shouldn’t mock the one who does. Both should ask whether they are acting in faith, humility, and submission to Christ.

The passage also encourages us to recover fasting as a meaningful biblical practice. Many Christians rarely consider it. We may be familiar with prayer, Bible reading, giving, and church attendance while treating fasting as something reserved for unusually spiritual people or distant times.

Yet fasting can help expose how quickly our bodies begin issuing demands. Missing even one meal can reveal how attached we are to comfort and routine. Hunger reminds us that we’re weak, dependent creatures. It can turn an ordinary physical desire into a repeated call to prayer: “Lord, I need You more than I need this food.”

Fasting should be approached wisely. People with certain health conditions, medication requirements, eating disorders, or physically demanding responsibilities may need to abstain from something other than food or seek appropriate medical guidance. The purpose isn’t to damage the body. The purpose is to seek God with focused humility.

Churches may also fast together during serious seasons of prayer, major decisions, missionary work, persecution, public calamity, or a recognized need for repentance. Such fasting should never become a publicity event, a loyalty test, or a means of pressuring consciences. Its value isn’t found in how many people participate or how dramatic the announcement sounds. Its value lies in sincerely seeking the Lord.

Matthew 9:14 also speaks to the unity of the Church. Believers often divide over matters that Scripture leaves to wisdom and conscience. One group may treat seriousness as the only evidence of reverence. Another may treat visible joy as the only evidence of spiritual health. Some churches seem suspicious of anyone who smiles; others act as though sorrow, confession, and lament would ruin the atmosphere.

Christ makes room for both godly joy and godly mourning.

The Christian life includes celebration because the Savior has come, sin has been atoned for, and death has been defeated. It also includes fasting, lament, and longing because we still live in a fallen world and await the fullness of Christ’s kingdom. Biblical worship doesn’t force every season into the same emotional shape.

Most importantly, our disciplines must keep directing us toward Christ. Prayer isn’t the Savior. Bible reading isn’t the Savior. Fasting isn’t the Savior. Church attendance isn’t the Savior. These are gracious means through which we seek, hear, worship, and obey the Savior, but they must never replace Him.

The goal isn’t to become impressed with our discipline. The goal is to know Christ, obey His Word, reflect His character, love His people, and proclaim His gospel.

More Than an Outwardly Religious Life

Perhaps you understand the language of religion. You may attend church, pray before meals, give to worthy causes, or practice some form of self-denial. Those things may be sincere and valuable, but none of them can remove your guilt before God.

You could fast every week and still remain unforgiven.

Matthew 9:14 ultimately directs our attention beyond the practice of fasting to the identity of Jesus. In His answer, Christ calls Himself the Bridegroom. He’s not merely another religious teacher offering a stricter routine. He’s the promised Savior whose presence brings the joy of redemption.

Our deepest problem isn’t that we lack discipline. Our deepest problem is sin. We’ve broken God’s commands in thought, word, desire, and action. We’ve loved created things more than the Creator and chosen our own way rather than His. Scripture states the consequence plainly: “For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

No amount of fasting can pay those wages. No religious achievement can erase the record of our rebellion.

Jesus Christ, the sinless Son of God, came to do what we could never do. He obeyed the Father perfectly. He willingly went to the cross and bore the judgment sinners deserve.

“For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Christ truly died, was buried, and rose again: “Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures” (1 Corinthians 15:3–4).

His resurrection declares His victory over sin, death, and the grave. Salvation is therefore not a reward for the religiously disciplined. It’s God’s gift to sinners who repent and believe.

Repentance means turning from sin and self-rule toward God. Faith means resting your hope entirely upon Jesus Christ, trusting who He is and what He accomplished rather than relying upon your morality, church background, rituals, or good intentions.

Come to Christ honestly. You don’t need to impress Him with a display of seriousness. You need to acknowledge your sin, receive His mercy, and submit to Him as Lord. He promises forgiveness, reconciliation with God, new life, and eternal salvation to all who truly trust in Him.

Let every spiritual practice lead you nearer to the Savior, but never allow the practice to take His place. Trust Christ today, follow Him faithfully, and let your whole life become an offering of grateful obedience for His glory.

Reflection and Response

• Have I turned any helpful spiritual practice or personal preference into a standard by which I judge the faithfulness of other believers?
• When I pray, fast, give, serve, or read Scripture, am I sincerely seeking God, or am I partly trying to reassure myself or impress others?
• Is there a burden, decision, temptation, or ministry need for which I should consider setting aside time to fast and pray?
• Do I make room in my Christian life for both grateful celebration and sincere mourning, allowing Scripture rather than social expectations to shape my response?
• Are my spiritual disciplines leading me into deeper love for Christ, greater obedience, and more faithful gospel witness, or have they become ends in themselves?