Lit·ur·gy (noun)
1. a formula according to which religious worship is conducted
A Short and Incomplete List of Things That are Comfortable for Me:
Grocery stores.
Eating.
Kitchens.
Eating.
French fries.
Eating.
Mealtimes.
Eating.
Cooking.
Eating.
On our second day here in Livingstone, Zambia, we fasted in an attempt to seek the Lord’s heart in this city and to better hear from Him. While fasting is about giving something up, it’s also about trying to draw closer to God and gain new perspectives.
In that fast, He spoke a lot about what this month would look like for us, and He also revealed something inside of me that I think I knew about, but I hadn’t faced head on yet.
The Lord pointed his finger on the issue of food in my life and asked, “What about this? Does this belong to me?”
It’s been a week since that first fast and I have to admit that no, I have not considered God’s role in my food choices while claiming to consider Him in all things.
And it might seem minor, but on The Race, food can very easily become something we worship. We talk about it constantly; where to get it, how to cook it, how expensive it is, where the cheapest market is. Mealtimes become three solid pillars a day in an otherwise usually unpredictable schedule. And the process of going to the store, shopping, cooking, eating, and cleaning up becomes something formulaic and comfortable.
Then there’s the whole issue of when the food isn’t what you wanted, but a host serves it and you have to eat it. I remember being served Christmas Eve curry in Malaysia and being SO excited about the potatoes in it, only to cut my potato and find a boiled egg instead, and then literally crying about it because I was so disappointed.
When it’s weird, we say “yes” begrudgingly, eat what’s ‘normal,’ and enough of the weird stuff to not offend our hosts. Then afterwards, you can find us at 7/11 (or whatever snack shop nearby), buying cookies and chocolate bars, digging out spoonfuls of peanut butter, and questioning the meal we were just served.
Back home, eating an entire chocolate bar in a single sitting would’ve been appalling. On the Race, I devour a Cadbury bar like it’s the only think keeping me alive. And my Sprite drinking habit, a refreshing treat I gave myself occasionally in Thailand to beat the heat, has turned into a daily necessity.
And don’t even mention coffee. I actually had a fight with a couple squadmates in the Philippines because I thought they had drank my Nescafe packets without asking first. Coffee addiction is real and when it’s a ‘scarce’ thing on the Race, the search and acquisition of it becomes a priority.
Really, ‘scarce’ is the best word I can use to describe this relationship. Scarcity says, “This might be the only time you see Skittles so you better by three packages just to be safe” and then a lack of self-control says, “Really you can eat all three of these today, it’s okay.”
That was my normal, until last month happened.
For the first time on the Race, I was solely in charge of cooking three meals a day for myself. I will never forget walking into the western grocery store—in Zimbabwe of all places— and throwing any and everything familiar into my cart because I was so elated to be in control of my diet.
The true liturgy began here.
After being in a pattern of steady weight loss since Cambodia, I gained back nearly everything I lost in one month. I attribute this less to my food choices and more to my decision to overeat at every meal past the point of fullness.
Additionally, in cooking for myself, I spent a lot more brain space thinking of what I was going to make, what ingredients I needed, if I had time to travel to the store, and worrying about when I was going to find time to cook around a busy ministry schedule.
Food crept into my life in ways it hadn’t before on the Race. I knew something wasn’t right, but it took our day of fasting this month—of me totally cutting food out of my life for one day—to truly see the relationship I’ve developed with food.
I’ve searched a lot and I don’t think my eating habits erupted from a place of trying to fill an emotional void. Rather, they came from a place of boredom and the desire for control. Whether three meals a day or only a daily Sprite, it’s all about controlling what I put in my body.
The World Race is the closest to food insecure I’ve ever been in my life. By no means do I spend days hungry, but I don’t always control when and how much and what I will get to eat. It’s a poverty mindset, and gosh that’s dangerous because not only am I not a person in poverty, Jesus warns against such attitudes (Matthew 6: 25-34).
In realizing the ways I’ve chosen to worship food, I’m realizing how I’ve chosen not to worship God. It’s still a process I’m stuck in the sticky middle of (like the half eaten chocolate bar next to me that I just really want to finish right now). I’ve made conscious choices about exercising and watching my portions in an attempt to make food less of a worship and more of a normal thing I need only so my body can function properly.
I want His definitions in all areas, not my own. So I’ve committed to fasting once a week this month. In the sacrifice of one thing that sits high on my list of daily priorities, I know The Lord will speak, even if it’s only to say, “Kay, you really don’t need to eat that.”
