Despite her maternal role and appearance, my older friend was into cars. She had long anticipated driving a formula one car. Maybe that was why I didn’t expect that she’d join me in wearing a little black dress every day to advocate for others. Not only did she wear it on the racetrack, but she outlasted me, wearing it for all forty days of lent!

It wasn’t until years later that I realized that her primary motivation might not have been the same passion for justice that burned within me, although I have no doubt she desired to live out her faith in action, too. She wanted me to feel believed in. But that wasn’t the only gift she gave me. This mentor also helped me see the connection between justice and fasting. 

A Movement for Freedom

With the newfound confidence that I could do something that mattered, I started the Little Black Dress Project. It morphed into a nonprofit, Blackout Trafficking before finally shuttering its doors after twelve impactful years. Through its annual month-long challenge, we supported grassroots anti-trafficking partners around the globe while giving everyday people a way to meaningfully fundraise, create awareness, and learn how to be changemakers.

Each March, on the outside I’d be wearing my black item, posting pictures, sharing facts, and speaking about human trafficking. But internally something else was happening. My black dress was a fast for justice. I was limiting my freedom of choice in just one small way by removing other options for my primary piece of clothing.

An Annual Spiritual Practice

It became a spiritual discipline to don my black dress in the quiet of the morning, before the rushing river of responsibility, kids’ needs and places to be, caught up to me.

I’d put one arm into my dress and pray for the exploited. I’d put the other arm in and pray for the tens of millions of slaves. I’d cry out for God to see the distress of these people, who were made in his own image! I’d lament their suffering, perpetrated by evil systems and uses of power. I’d pray that they’d be released from the ways they were held captive. I’d pray for endurance to do this daily fast of wearing this ugly dress that was piling, still damp from the late wash the night before. Finally, I’d pray for the awakening of the Church to fight for their freedom. Then I’d straighten my dress with a quick glance in the mirror and walk out the door to do just that–fight for their freedom in the way I could.

Isaiah’s Fast for Justice

Justice and fasting go hand-in-hand. I’m not the first person over the last millennia who has pointed out what God spoke through his prophet Isaiah, “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?” (Isaiah 58:6, NIV) 

This passage addresses how Israel would practice religious acts of worship, prayer, and fasting, with the expectations that God would respond. Yet God was clear about what pleased him and it sure wasn’t their pious holiness! He promised to guide, satisfy, and rebuild their city when their “fast” became a lifestyle of action–economic justice, freedom for captives, not perpetuating harm and providing for the needy (among others).

Fasting food wasn’t a new concept to me–it was something I had occasionally done since my teenage years. Yet I wondered, what was a “fast” for justice? Did Isaiah talk about fasting because it was the random religious activity that popped into his head at the moment? When my friend intentionally wore her black dress for lent–a traditional season of fasting–I began to develop a new understanding of fasting in the context of justice.

The Cost Restoration

God used Isaiah to equate fasting with justice work because they both require sacrifice. These days Christians seem willing to give up food, caffeine, meat, dessert, alcohol, social media, and TV shows in a fast. But rarely do Christians think of Isaiah’s paradigm for fasting calling for a different type of sacrifice. And so, too frequently we look no different than the nonbelievers around us, even in our “religion”. We hold tightly to our rights, privileges, and resources–some of the most critical ingredients of sacrifice that God may ask of us, which he uses to bring forth a world marked by shalom.

But Jesus invited us to follow in his footsteps by dying to ourselves to gain life. What example did he set? He didn’t fast his coffee or Friday’s fish fry. Jesus let go of his divine rights and privileges to be incarnate among us. In a way, he embarked on the ultimate fast of what he was entitled to, in order to bring forth justice, for it is through him that all things can be reconciled, restored, and made right.

A Transformative Journey

I am grateful for how gracious God is as he invites us into his fast for justice. I even see this in the small, but meaningful way he used a dress to transform my own life.

The first few years I wore my black dress, I noticed that by the second week I’d always experience a slump. The excitement had worn off, I’d feel limited by my lack of choice and convenience and be discouraged by the never enough response to our project. My dress was also starting to feel grimy. 

But as I stuck with this daily act of endurance, I was changed. My empathy grew for those in poverty who had to be content with less, who actually had a reason to worry about what they had to wear. It developed my compassion for those who were trafficked and actually had little to no choice in much more vital parts of their lives besides just clothes. I repented of ways I saw that I might be perpetuating injustice. 

I also became aware of how freeing it was to just wear the same thing. I wasn’t hindered by trying to figure out my outfit in the morning. Although I still kinda wanted to burn the dress, I could find joy. I became more minimalistic in other areas, too, freeing me to use my money for other purposes. I became interested in learning about ethical sourcing, fair trade and began paying attention to my purchasing power. Something I did one month of the year began to affect my entire lifestyle the rest of the year.

These were just the changes that touched my own personal life, but there were real and tangible changes taking place for others all over the world as a result of the advocacy work being done through our annual challenge. Funds were raised, people were freed, information was spread, and people began believing they too mattered as everyday changemakers.

It reminds me of the part of this passage where God promised to meet his people like the bright noonday sun when they practiced a fast of justice (Isaish 58:10). God’s restorative work is ignited on all sides, building up a city for the flourishing of all people when we engage in a fast for justice. What a promise–and it is one that I believe still extends to today. 

Justice: A Perpetual Fast

I am forever grateful for my friend who joined me in wearing a black dress for the first few years. Without her I am unsure if wearing my dress would have ever evolved into a journey of changemaking, having a tangible impact for justice, and just as importantly–my own transformation and spiritual growth.

By giving up our rights and resources, we align ourselves with God’s heart for justice, echoing Isaiah’s call to set the oppressed free.  When we join God in this work, even in seemingly insignificant ways, like wearing a dress, we become part of something greater—God’s ongoing restoration of the world. Let Isaiah’s prophetic poem resonate today and call us into a fast for justice.