7

It is no secret that I stalk Jen Hatmaker.  I read her blog, her books, we’re facebook friends and I follow her on twitter.  I count the fact that she has responded to my emails twice and once to a comment I tweeted to mean that it is not unrequited love.  Add to that the fact that my bestie Mollie actually knows her, goes to her church, and may or may not have promised to snip a locket of her hair for me, and it is perfectly obvious that it’s a very deep relationship.  In my mind.  I’m certain that if there were not miles between Austin and Richmond, I would frighten Jen.  Little does she know that there are plans for a girls weekend in Maryland to see her in the works.  Bwawahahah…..
 

Anywho.  Now that we’ve got THAT creepy confession out of the way, I have to take a beat to talk about her new book 7.  It is titled “7” because she identifies the book as “an experimental mutiny against excess” in 7 areas—clothes, shopping, waste, food, possessions, media, and stress.  So she, and a group of women she calls “The Council”, embark upon this experiment in decrease with the desire that as they unplug from consumer culture, they’ll be more apt to hear God and love his people.

In the introduction she writes how opening up her home to Hurricane Katrina victims led to her seeing herself in a new light.  She was rich. Despite being a writer married to a pastor, she was abundantly rich.  She writes, “…I was so blinded I didn’t even know we were rich.  

How can I be socially responsible if unaware that I reside in the top percentage of wealth in the world? (You probably do too: Make $35,000 a year?  Top 4 percent.  $50,000? Top 1 percent.)  Excess has impaired perspective in America; we are the richest people on earth, praying to get richer.  We’re tangled in unmanageable debt while feeding the machine, because we feel entitled to more.  What does it communicate when half the global population lives on less than $2 a day, and we can’t manage a fulfilling life on twenty-five times that amount?  Fifty times that amount?

It says we have too much, and it is ruining us.”

GULP.  Convicted?  Yeah.  Join the club.

Speaking of clubs (bonus points for the wicked smooth segue!), I am a member of a facebook book club discussing this book.  It was put together by my buds Mollie and it is full of randoms from all over.  (Ok, mainly randoms that Mollie knows.)  

The first chapter Jen tackles food. For one month, she simplifies her diet down to 7 foods.  She considers nutrition and settles upon chicken, eggs, whole-wheat bread, sweet potatoes, spinach, avocadoes, and apples.  But mainly for the month she writes about missing coffee and the large amounts of repentance this endeavor is drawing her into.  It should also be noted she.is.hilarious.  MAYBE even funnier than me.  (Which I didn’t even know was humanly possible.  Too bad there’s not a chapter on humility…)

In my book club group, we started off lamenting the giving up of things.  And talking about our various issues with food.  I’ve yet to meet a woman who has a completely healthy relationship with food, so this limiting of food was a significant thorn in people’s side.   And for good reason.  But I think the whole point of reducing food had nothing to do with control, or weight loss, or health, but with providing Jen with a physical and very tangible thing that would daily remind her of her need for Jesus and bring to mind all the ways she tries to avoid feeling that need.  Her mantra was less Jen, more Jesus.  

While reading the chapter, I was so on board with limiting myself to 7 foods.  I even liked her choices and was fully prepared to spend 20 minutes a day concocting some type of sweet potato-cooked apple hash to spread on my inedible homemade wheat bread.  (Ya know, cause I just ADORE cooking.)  But then I went to sleep and the next morning woke up realizing that if I didn’t have a Diet Dr. Pepper STAT I might cut somebody.  (Which, yes, is the ENTIRE freaking point of the exercise.  Really.) But I also know me and the only thing I like about keeping rules is being smug about keeping rules.  The temptation of self-righteousness was too great for me.  And if my prayer really is less EJ, more Jesus, pretending giving up caffeine is my salvation is counterproductive.  

So for the next month, I have chosen to forego fast food, anything containing High Fructose Corn Syrup, and to eat leftovers until they are gone.  It is forcing me to slow down, think ahead, cook appropriate portion sizes, and keep up with my danged grocery list so that I have foods I can pack to take with me places.  Basically, it is causing me to live more intentionally.  To choose what it best over what is easiest.  To consider that leftover food in my fridge is not something to be endured but a privilege.  These are small things, really.  But already I feel like I’ve decided to become Amish.  It’s gonna be hell when she writes about media use.

However, even this small cutback to make room for the Holy Spirit to work in me has not been without affect.

Yesterday I chose a sit down restaurant when fast food really would have been a lot easier.  And what do you know?  I stretched the meal into two with leftovers and my children preferred sitting at a table to eat food rather than having French fries thrown at them while barreling down 288 at 65 mph. 

Last night I discussed how we needed to eat for dinner all of the things in the refrigerator that would go bad soon if we didn’t eat them.  It was a hodge podge of deli meat, greek yogurt, and bins full of vegetables from dinners past.  I chatted with Henry how some folks didn’t have food,  that Daddy worked hard to provide us food and that food was a gift from God.  Henry’s response preached to me LOUDLY.

“Well, Mom, I don’t wanna waste gifts. So how ‘bout when I’m done with my 4 no thank you bites of broccoli I eat ALL of the leftover peas?”

If that is not God at work in my family, then I don’t know what is.