Change

I've had the song "Landslide" going through my head recently. I'm not sure why (though you should all know that it's the original Fleetwood Mac version, not the Smashing Pumpkins version). Something about the idea of change and being afraid of changing.

Change is at the heart of the Gospel. "Come," says Jesus, "follow me."

There's nothing more radical than a man, who also happens to claim to be God, asking a fisherman or a tax collector or a doctor to up and follow him. To leave everything. To walk away knowing that from now on, nothing would be the same.

For those disciples, everything changed when Jesus showed up.

God calls us to transformation. To walk away from old destructive habits in favor of abundant life. But those old habits are soooo hard to break.

Like the habit of eating "normal food."

Obviously I've broken the habit, since I haven't purposefully eaten gluten for over a year and a half. But not eating gluten doesn't mean that I don't want it. I DO want it! Even more than the food itself, I want the convenience. I want to stop reading labels, scouring grocery store shelves, and asking a thousand questions of any poor waiter who serves my table.

I don't want to be the weird lady who carries a lunch box everywhere like it's a security blanket.

I get grouchy sometimes about the forced change of gluten free living. I have no choice, but there are a lot of days where I would give almost anything for the convenience of a drive-through burger, or to be able to eat the pizza from the restaurant a block from my house when the aroma drifts over.

But I can't. A few bites isn't worth days of misery, not to mention potential long-term damage.

Change is hard. Almost impossible.

I'm trying learning new food thinking habits. New ways of celebrating the foods I can eat rather than lamenting those I can't.

This Lenten season my church is reading through the Psalms. One Psalm a day for the entire Lenten season. It's been a good discipline for me as well, forcing me to take the time to really reflect on the day's text. To think. To pray.

A few days ago we read Psalm 19. I often quote its last verse before beginning to preach on a Sunday morning: "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing in your sight O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer" (though I pluralize the "meditations of all our hearts" to include the congregation).

Often my heart is grouchy before God when it comes to food. I become petulant and angry.

"Why can't I eat that? Why can't I just be normal? Why does this have to be such a BIG DEAL?"

So this Lent, in addition to reading the Psalms, I'm praying for a pure gluten free heart before God. That God would help me make peace with the limitations of my body, and fill me with gratitude for all of the abilities my body does have.

I can't eat gluten, but I can walk up the stairs without any trouble. I can kneel in prayer. I can jog for a little while. I can snuggle with my husband. I can pick up my niece for a big hug. And I can eat a whole lot of things. Fresh fruit. Garden vegetables. Fresh local eggs. Rosemary. Sage. Ginger. Cinnamon.

Lord, make me more grateful and less grumpy.

What's your Lenten prayer?