Divine Hunger Games
Introduction: “Whose Bright Idea Was This Anyway?“
I often sit back and marvel — with equal parts awe and concern — at where I gather the audacity to take on half the things I do. Honestly, if audacity were a currency, I’d have Jeff Bezos on speed dial asking if he wanted to borrow some.
So there I was, barely surviving the mental assault of learning to code while holding down an actual job like a responsible adult, when I decided — because clearly, my life wasn’t spicy enough — to throw myself headfirst into the Daniel Fast. Yes, I can hear you laughing from the other side of the screen. And you’re right. Let’s be serious.
From the very beginning, I knew, deep in my blessed little heart, that there was no way on God’s very green Earth I was lasting the full 21 days. I wanted to try, sure, but I also came mentally prepped for battle. As a neurodivergent champion with a black belt in Hyperfixation, I had to move carefully — if I didn’t, food fatigue would body-slam me halfway through like a WWE finale.
Thus armed with nothing but blind optimism and Google, I set off, courageously asking, “Wait… what can I even eat?“
So, What Exactly Is This Daniel Fast? (Asking for Myself)
The Daniel Fast is a spiritual and physical exercise based on the biblical story of the prophet Daniel — that guy who bravely turned down royal meat and wine for lentils and water. Essentially, it’s a way to deepen your relationship with God while lovingly telling your cravings to sit down and shut up.
It typically lasts 21 days and is technically plant-based — think vegan, but the super intense, no-nonsense cousin. It’s like Veganism walked into a church revival and left born again and extra. Here’s the basic breakdown:
- Processed foods? Canceled. Even vegan junk food is kicked to the curb.
- Sweeteners? Bye-bye to sugar, honey, maple syrup — basically, all the joy.
- Leavened bread? No loaf for you, friend. If it rises, it’s out.
- Caffeinated beverages? Pack it up, coffee lovers. Water and herbal teas only.
In short: it’s the Holy Boot Camp your tastebuds didn’t know they signed up for.
Me vs. The Fast: Early Days of Delusion
Back to me — your faithful, slightly unhinged narrator.
At first, I was confident. No, cocky even. I was working out recipes like a Food Network champion, strutting around my kitchen like I was the next big thing.
Two days in? Still feeling good. I was practically glowing with self-satisfaction.
Five days in? I was seeing actual celestial bodies in my peripheral vision.
By day seven? Listen — if I didn’t get myself together quickly, I was about one avocado away from checking into the Emergency Room for “Death by Overconfidence.”
Now, looking back with the clarity of someone who lived to tell the tale, I can admit (almost) that it was poor planning on my part. Almost. I’m still not fully ready to sign that confession. Let’s call it a “learning curve” and move on.
The Good, The Bad, and The Lentils
Despite the chaos, it wasn’t all doom and gloom.
Every meal I made was balanced and packed with protein — I shocked myself at how creative I could be when all my favorite crutches like sugar, bread, and caffeine were snatched away. Suddenly, the world was bursting with options I had never paid attention to before.
I mean, lentils! Lentils really showed up and showed out.
I’ve had lentils before, sure, but now? Lentils have earned themselves a permanent seat at my kitchen table. They’re part of the family now.
One huge lesson: when you cut out so much, you realize just how abundant food choices actually are — if you’re open-minded (and desperate enough).
Closing Thoughts: Know Thy Limits, Sis
All in all, it was a good experience. Not a flawless victory, but not a complete disaster either. I will definitely do it again — next time, with actual planning, adulting, and a survival kit that includes a support group and maybe some pre-fast therapy sessions.
I’m even considering tackling the Esther Fast next. You know — three days, no food, no water — just straight-up trusting God to carry you.
As for the Moses or Elijah fasts? Uh, no thanks. I love Jesus, but I also love functioning kidneys. Sometimes, you’ve just got to know your limits as a human being.
Until we meet again, remember: you can do all things through Christ — but maybe check with a dietitian first.
