It’s the season of sweets. As much as I want to indulge, there’s often a tug-a-war on what to eat and what not to eat going on under the surface. Or, most likely, I chuck it all and indulge and vow to eat healthily later. I’m finding that eating (like most things) isn’t often about eating at all. It goes much deeper.
Today, I’m at The Mudroom writing about food, deliverance, and prayer.
The problem isn’t the food or my inability to eat healthily, to say “no” to what is bad for me and hunger after what is good. The problem isn’t food at all.
Like so much else — relationships, sex, church, houses — food is a gift. It is sustenance and grace and provision. Like good gifts it is meant to be received and enjoyed. But when we obsess over it, Gollum-like, through our indulgence or abstention, we’re simply using the gift of good food to say something about ourselves.
That I don’t measure up unless I measure up.
That I use food to feel my feelings because I’m too scared to feel them. Swallowing them is much easier.
That I feel productive when I eat healthily so I’ll beat myself up when I deviate from my plan.
That I deserve this coffee or cocktail or this cookie because somehow it’ll make up for hard decisions, tired mornings, and feeling unseen and unappreciated.
As if food could solve soul problems. Food is the safest drug we have.
As always, I’m grateful for you and that you read my words as a gift. I’d love to send you my monthly-ish newsletter. No spam. Just some good, hefty words to roll around and ponder. I’d love if you’d subscribe below:
Sign up below!