Zechariah 7:1-7: a reflection

1In the fourth year of King Darius, the LORD’s word came to Zechariah in the fourth day of the ninth month, the month of Chislev. 2The people of Bethel sent Sharezer and Regem Melech and their men to entreat the LORD’s favor, 3and to speak to the priests of the house of the LORD of Armies and to the prophets, saying, “Should I weep in the fifth month, separating myself, as I have done these so many years?” 4Then the word of the LORD of Armies came to me, saying, 5“Speak to all the people of the land and to the priests, saying, ‘When you fasted and mourned in the fifth and in the seventh month for these seventy years, did you at all fast to me, really to me? 6When you eat and when you drink, don’t you eat for yourselves and drink for yourselves? 7Aren’t these the words which the LORD proclaimed by the former prophets when Jerusalem was inhabited and in prosperity, and its cities around her, and the South and the lowland were inhabited?’”

When the people ask the priests whether they should keep observing a certain fast, as they had for many years, God's answer, through Zechariah, pierces past the outward practice to the heart behind it. When you fasted and mourned these seventy years, God asks, did you at all fast to me, really to me? When you eat and when you drink, don't you eat for yourselves and drink for yourselves? The question is searching: their fasting, kept faithfully for years, had it really been for God, or had it become a thing they did for themselves, an empty routine with no true reference to him? God looks past the outward observance to the heart, and asks whether it is truly for him. Religious practices can be kept faithfully in form while the heart in them is really turned toward ourselves, not God. The question God asks is whether our religious acts are truly for him or have become things we do for ourselves.

Notice the searching question God asks: when you fasted, did you fast to me, really to me? The people had kept the fast for years; the outward practice was faithful. But God probes the heart: was it for him, or had it become a routine they kept for themselves, out of habit, for their own reasons, with no true reference to him? This exposes a real danger in religious life: to keep the outward practices faithfully while the heart in them has drifted from God, so that what looks like devotion to him is really something we do for ourselves. God is not impressed by the mere form of religious observance; he looks at whether it is truly directed to him, offered from a heart turned toward him. A fast kept for ourselves, however faithfully, is not truly a fast to God. The question for all our religious practices is whether they are really for God or have become things we do for ourselves. God looks past the form to the heart's true direction.

That is worth taking to heart, for we do well to ask whether our religious practices are truly for God or have become things we do for ourselves. We can keep our religious practices faithfully in form, fasting, praying, worshiping, while the heart in them has drifted from God, so that what looks like devotion to him is really something we do out of habit or for ourselves; but God asks his people whether they fasted really to him. God looks past the form to the heart's true direction. There is value in examining whether our practices are truly for God. Do not assume that keeping the outward form of religious practice means your heart is truly directed to God; ask whether it is really for him, as God asked his people. Examine whether your religious practices are truly directed to God or have become things you do for yourself, as God asked his people whether, in their years of fasting, they had really fasted to him or eaten and drunk for themselves; for God is not impressed by the mere form of religious observance but looks at whether it is offered from a heart truly turned toward him, and it is possible to keep the outward practices faithfully while the heart in them has drifted, so that we do well to ask whether our devotion is really for God or for ourselves.

Lord, when the people ask the priests whether they should keep observing a certain fast, as they had for many years, your answer, through Zechariah, pierces past the outward practice to the heart behind it. When you fasted and mourned these seventy years, you ask, did you at all fast to me, really to me? When you eat and when you drink, don't you eat for yourselves and drink for yourselves? The question is searching: their fasting, kept faithfully for years, had it really been for you, or had it become a thing they did for themselves, an empty routine with no true reference to you? You look past the outward observance to the heart. Show me the searching question you ask: when you fasted, did you fast to me, really to me? The people had kept the fast for years; the outward practice was faithful. But you probe the heart: was it for you, or had it become a routine they kept for themselves? This exposes a real danger in religious life: to keep the outward practices faithfully while the heart in them has drifted from you, so that what looks like devotion is really something we do for ourselves. You are not impressed by the mere form of religious observance; you look at whether it is truly directed to you. Take that to my heart, for I do well to ask whether my religious practices are truly for you or have become things I do for myself. I can keep my religious practices faithfully in form, praying, worshiping, while the heart in them has drifted from you. You look past the form to the heart's true direction. Keep me from assuming that keeping the outward form of religious practice means my heart is truly directed to you; help me ask whether it is really for you, Lord, as you asked your people whether they had really fasted to you or for themselves.