In the early years of young motherhood, I was channel surfing in the wee morning hours while in the haze of sleeplessness forced by a hungry baby. I always thought these TV programmers should make a channel dedicated to nursing mothers at 3 a.m. and that they should fill it with all the shows that will surely keep moms awake enough to be able to put the baby back to bed and make it back into their own beds before passing out from exhaustion! (Side note: It is now called Netflix, you lucky present-day baby mamas!)
As I perused disturbing infomercials and random exercise videos (who is Sweatin’ to the Oldies at 3 a.m.?!), the channel landed on an old episode of Oprah. I paused out of curiosity at the lineup of overweight people sitting on the stage. What in the world could Oprah be doing trying to help others fight the bulge, considering she herself never stayed the same size through an entire season? This was sure to be good, so I stopped channel surfing to watch the train wreck.
On the show was Oprah’s own personal psychiatrist (who “helped” Oprah with her own weight problems). The psychiatrist was helping these poor people talk through the issue of not fitting into the clothes in their closets. The train wreck was getting better! To add to the abundance, this scrawny psychiatrist looked as if she would float away like a malnourished birthday balloon if someone were to sneeze on her. I was hooked!
The psychiatrist told all the obese people, while she ironically avoided eye contact with noticeably rotund Oprah, that their issues with overeating all stemmed back to trauma in their childhoods. She said she had never met an obese person who did not have childhood tragedy.
I literally laughed out loud! Yes, there I sat—my fluffy, postpartum self—filled with unabashed judgment at this crazy woman. As the psychiatrist told them that their fat was not their fault and that they needed to deal with their obvious childhood trauma, I yelled at the TV, “No, you nutty woman! Maybe they just like the taste of food! Chocolate and ice cream are always better than broccoli!”
That woman, with her hollow cheekbones, told those fat people that the problem was not eating too much, when it most definitely was! They loved food because food tastes good! They probably each had their favorite indulgences—ice cream, cookies, mac and cheese, or late night Cheez-It binging! These dear people just loved food! Yes, I will be the first to admit that this is super judgmental, but I totally could relate to these people.
Food is fun and delicious! It brings us together. When something good is happening, such as a birthday, anniversary, work promotion, etc., we celebrate together by eating at a restaurant or at a friend’s house. We host church potlucks for any reason worth a casual, congratulatory round of applause. Wherever a group is gathered for almost any reason, we can be sure there will always be something to eat!
Food binds wounds. I had a friend tell me once that if I ever needed to deliver bad news, I always needed to do it over dinner when everyone was either full or almost there because the news would be handled much better after food.
Food keeps us alive; we need it to live. No one enjoys feeling hungry. I used to fast one day a week in college while I prayed for God’s will for my life. Wednesdays were the longest day of the week because I was starving all day long! Breaking my fast at the end of the day was, many times, a batch of late-night Ramen noodles cooked in my hotpot in my dorm room, but it tasted like the best meal ever!
Food is hoarded, hidden, and stashed so we can indulge whenever we get a craving. Reader, before standing in judgment, please consider that snack the children will never know about that is hidden in the back of the pantry. This snack is only pulled out when the children are in the deepest REM sleep possible so that the little voices saying, “Can I have some?” can be avoided.
Now, imagine if we were to treat the Bible as we do our food obsessions. Imagine if we were to share God’s Word with all of those we love when we have something good happen in our lives. Think how much it would change our interactions if the Bible were a part of every celebration, no matter how big or small!
Consider what would happen if we were to talk about the Bible and the blessings of God before we discussed the negative things when the news is bad. How would our perception change if we opened the Bible and partook of its bounty before dealing with the problems of our lives? Would our wounds be bound by the balm of the Bible and become more bearable?
What if we fed on the Word when our earthly needs left us desolate and empty? What if we were to devour the promises in those pages as if we could not take another step without partaking? The hunger pains of humanistic thinking would dissipate. The grief, depression, and loneliness would be relieved through the abundance of God’s Word.
Think of how the happiness will flood our lives when we stockpile those verses in our hearts to be recalled when we have a craving to be reminded of God’s promises. If we hoard those passages in our memory, then when the night is darkest and loneliest, we will always have a stash of hope and a light to which we can run.
Best of all, if our Bible were the most delicious and desired thing in our lives, we would not be able to NOT share it with those who just “want a bite.” We can freely share with whomever will sit down at the table of Life, and we can serve up the spread from the Word of God.
We have such plenteous bounty to feast upon and to share with others. The best part of all is that we can never overindulge in the Bible. We will never feel guilty for devouring too much from God’s Word. It is the Bread of Life that never runs out, that never goes bad, and that never stops filling us up!
My friends, pull up a chair, grab your Bible, and dig in! You will have the greatest meal you have ever eaten when you sit at God’s table to enjoy the feast!
by Tracie S. Burns
