Good

It’s not that we don’t believe You’re good because we know You are.
It’s not that we don’t believe You can heal because we know You can.
It’s just that we ask ourselves if You have her best in mind, 
And by association, our best.
Not doubt exactly, but frozen waiting for Your next move
Even while begging You to take this cup from her.
Can we yield to the nevertheless-not-our-will
And trust Your goodness without knowing Your plan?
Because it’s not our understanding of her good, 
But Yours, O Restorer, Redeemer, that’s tucked into Your promise.

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

Trying dieting

I’ve never been the person watching what she ate, until I came to Spain. Then it was simple: overdose on protein and stay away from sugar and caffeine. Until I got back from the States this fall and my blood test revealed shocking cholesterol numbers.

Genetics? Yes. Well, partly. Also, my love affair with cheese. After visiting France a couple of years ago, I thought it would be nice for God to call me to a country where one can eat a different kind of cheese every day of the year. Now I’m thankful I’m in Spain, where cheeses are outstanding, but numbered.

The doctor gave me a “to eat and not to eat” list. I did my own research, plugged a basic menu into a nutrition calculator and stuck to it for the most part. I’ve been eating well, make no mistake, but food prep takes longer than it used to. Plus, I spent a couple of months enduring my roommates snickers when I weighed almost everything I ate. I also had to endure my sister’s judgment when I feasted on a rosy salmon fillet, roasted brussel sprouts, rye crackers with homemade hummus, with a mango and 85% chocolate for dessert.

I love baking. I would probably bake every day if it weren’t for the piles of dishes. Or the piles of sweets. When I had a roommate, it was easier to dispose of my leftover baked goods. Granted, she was not always pleased to see another plateful of a sugary something with an attached note: “EAT!”

Honestly, I am a healthy eater by discipline, not naturally. If you’re going to trip me up, set out a cracker variety and a luscious cheeseball, chips and salsa, or just mounds of greasy potato chips. I don’t even like bread, but once and a while, I pig out on bread, especially if it’s loaded with heart-stopping slabs of cold butter. It hasn’t been all that long ago since I ate an entire bag of chips in one day. Or one day, I was walking down the street and smelled hot dogs. Hot dogs! And I could taste them, roasted over a fire, overloaded with tangy mustard and a heap of shredded cheddar. I admitted this craving to my roommate who, after watching me carefully blend kale smoothies, was amused. Rightfully so.

For us first-worlders, food, like so many other things in life, is a choice. What we choose today may affect our tomorrow.

Do you have a food plan? What do you do? Do you make allowances or take days off? Wedge in a bit of space for that mousse au chocolat? Speaking of which…

Photo by Cody Pulliam on Unsplash

The Hammer Holds

May you have a blessed Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday.

Even though we live on the Spanish coast, this year we don’t plan to watch the sunrise on the beach… perhaps because we have approximately one morning person on our team (and it’s not me). We still plan to celebrate Christ’s resurrection for most of the day through worship, fellowship, and food. What are your plans?

This week, I have been buried in research and I’m not taking time to write anything original. Still, I wanted to share a piece of the song “The Hammer Holds” from Bebo Norman, a deep, poetic work that tells the story of a piece of steel as it is shaped into a nail to be driven into the Savior’s hand. You can listen to the full song here.

The hammer pounds again, but flames I do not feel. 
This force that drives me, helplessly, through flesh, and wood reveals 
A burn that burns much deeper, it's more than I can stand: 
The reason for my life was to take the life of a guiltless man. 
So dream a little, dream for me in hopes that I'll remain, 
And cry a little, cry for me so I can bear the pain. 
And hurt a little, hurt for me, my future is so bold, 
But my dreams are not the issue here, for they, the hammer holds. 
This task before me may seem unclear 
But it, my Maker holds

from Ten Thousand Days 1999, Watershed Records.

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash