open letter to my son
28 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in biblical womanhood, spiritual journeys, this is my life
Note: Nathanael asked me this question: “In all sincerity, why do you believe what the bible says Jesus said?” This came up in the public forum of facebook, and I started to answer it there. But because this question is so vital, I decided to make a blog post of it. This is intensely personal, but I’m choosing to make myself vulnerable by making it public because I know there are other young adults asking this question, and other believing parents hearing their children ask this question. I hope this helps in both situations.
Why do I believe? This is an important issue, and not one to be answered lightly. For a long time I have wanted to talk to you privately about this. You are my son, and we spent 20 years of your life living under the same roof. You know me like no one outside the family ever could. You know my failures, and how they hurt our family. You know all the things I said that didn’t match how I lived.
I fought against my failures. I thought I fought hard. But the truth is, I didn’t know my enemy. It wasn’t anger and selfishness. It was pride. I couldn’t stand the thought of being wrong. But then you left home, and then you left the church. Whether rightly or not, I blamed myself for your decision to leave. And things began to change. Not an overnight change; there was still a process to go through. But I began to take a good hard look at my heart and to ask myself a lot of questions. I began to pray more, to search the Scriptures more, to listen more–to my children, to your dad, to God. It was definitely a humbling experience. I was broken before God, and was finally really ready to repent, receive His forgiveness and submit to His work in my heart.
The more God changed me, the more I wished you were here to see it. I thank God every day that Sarah and Elijah were here. God healed my relationship with them. Sarah has become a very close and dear friend rather than an enemy. A lot of the changes I had been trying to force upon her happened on their own after I began to submit to the change God wanted to work in me. And the changes that didn’t happen no longer seemed so important because I began to see her heart growing more toward God. I knew that whatever needed to happen in her, God could handle it.
Things changed between your dad and me, too. People think being a submissive wife is a place of bondage. It is if it’s being forced on you, either by others or by your own idea of what that should look like. It’s this sense of bondage that has given the word “submit” such a negative connotation that most of us cringe when we even hear the word. So for the sake of that connotation, let’s replace the word “submit” with the word “love.” See, my whole problem was the outside: the picture I presented to everyone else, the “me” I wanted them to believe I was. I “submitted” on the outside, because that’s what people expect from Christian wives, especially pastor’s wives. But on the inside, I was often seething with rebellion against what your dad wanted for me and for our family.
People say the opposite of love is hate. It’s not. The opposite of love is selfishness. And because I was selfish, I could not love. Not really. And that lack of love kept me from being in tune with your dad, and, ultimately, with God. Now things are different. Now I don’t see submission as bondage. Because God has helped me love your dad more, I see it as being on the same team, the two of us working together with God to make our marriage what it should be.
Recently I shared with another couple that your dad and I have been married more than 25 years, but that only in the last three years have I seen our marriage be what it should, and that these last three years have been the best.
They looked at Dad in disbelief and said, “Really???”
And Dad nodded in agreement.
Things still aren’t perfectly rosy. I still fail sometimes. Life is hard, but it’s the hard things that build character in us if we yield our hearts to God’s hand. Two years ago several very hard things happened that dealt severe emotional blows to my heart. In the past, I would have despaired over just one of those, and gone into a sulk of sorts, blaming and neglecting God and feeling sorry for myself. To have three blows come within just weeks of each other would have devastated me. But this time was different. This time I took it to God. Miracles didn’t happen, and the situations never changed. In fact, they got worse. But God wrought peace in my heart, taught me to depend upon Him, and drew me closer than ever before.
Why do I believe? Because I see. I see in my life the truth of this verse:
“Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” –Philippians 1:6
Remember the children’s song we used to hear on the radio sometimes? “He’s still workin’ on me,/To make me what I ought to be./It took Him just a week to make the moon and the stars,/The sun and the earth and Jupiter and Mars./How loving and patient He must be,/He’s still workin’ on me!”
I love you, Nathanael, and that love will never, ever die.
courageous women, please (part 3)
06 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
in biblical womanhood, movie review: Courageous
“Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right.” –Proverbs 20:11
This is Emily Mitchell. As her father says, “Emily is our sweet nine-year-old.” She is the kind of girl every other little girl wants to be friends with. She’s good, but not goody-goody. She’s innocent, but she has a good sense of humor. She loves her family, and wants to please her parents, but she’s a normal little girl who tends to “clean” her room by shoving everything into her closet.
But there’s something else I noticed about Emily. Like every little girl with a daddy who loves her, she does this sweet little please-daddy-please-please-please thing that’s designed to break down all defenses when she wants something. But she does it in a sweet, appealing sort of way, not demanding at all. Sometimes she gets a “yes,” which gets her even more excited and happy and generous with hugs. But sometimes she gets a “no,” and it’s when this happens that you can’t help but admire her. She doesn’t pout or whine or cry or stomp off. You can tell she’s clearly disappointed, but she’s not offended or hurt. Instead, she regroups, makes the best of the situation, and enjoys herself anyway.
That’s the kind of attitude I want to cultivate in my daughters. Hey, that’s the kind of attitude I need to cultivate in myself. There are times when it’s hard for me to regroup and make the best of things in the face of disappointment.
So that’s Emily. Now let’s think about Lauren Etchells, the real-life little girl who played the part of Emily Mitchell. Lauren, from what the Kendrick brothers say, is also a sweet young girl. She has given her heart and life to the Lord, and wants to serve Him however she can. After watching a previous Sherwood movie, Facing the Giants, she told her mother that some day she wanted to be in a movie like that, and help tell other people about Jesus. This is another characteristic we need to instill in ourselves and in our daughters: the desire to tell others about our Lord Jesus Christ. I admit that I’m not really so very good at that, but that’s really our whole purpose as believers.
Courageous just wouldn’t be anything at all without Emily, and I think Lauren did a fantastic job playing the part. May I also be courageous in my role as wife, mother and friend!
sour dough fun
06 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
I am battling a yeast infection that is rather severe, and is affecting my health in other ways besides the annoying itchy rash that has taken over my skin. Since starting a yeast free diet, I have begun to feel more energetic and I feel like the fog in my head is clearing. For the first time in many years, I have gone through a cycle without having my usual debilitating headaches. (Sorry if that’s too much info for some, but I’m all about helping people heal. So many women suffer from this sort of thing that I found it worthy of mentioning.)
From research I have done, I have found some studies suggesting that commercial yeast is one of those bad-for-you pseudo foods that are causing so many of the health problems that began to escalate during the past 75-100 years. (My opinion of processed foods in general is not a secret, but I’m not getting into that in this post.)
Dr. Weston A. Price was a Cinncinati dentist during the 1930s. After seeing a marked increase in tooth decay among his patients, he traveled the world to learn which isolated people groups (there were still many such groups in those days) had the healthiest teeth. His theory was that our teeth are an indicator of our health in general, and he began to study the diets of the people with strong, healthy teeth. He also learned their medical history. The group I was particularly interested in was the Swiss people who lived in the isolated Loetschental Valley. At that time, the only way in was via a foot path. They did not even have a road which would allow an ox cart. They grew everything they ate with only one exception: salt, brought in by foot. The mainstay of their diet was dairy products (raw milk, cheese and butter from grass-fed cows), sour dough rye bread, and veal (from the young calves butchered for the rennet–stomach lining–used to make cheese). They also ate fruits and vegetables in season. (No mention was made of chickens or other farm animals, or whether they preserved their fruits and veggies for winter use. They also don’t mention whether they had honeybees.)
These people were extremely healthy and hardy. Even though many of the children did not even know what a toothbrush was, Dr. Price found no cavities in any of the people. There were no jaw deformities, no mis-aligned teeth, no overbites. None of the villagers had heart problems, and none of them had ever suffered from tuberculosis, which was raging in Europe during that time.
Sourdough rye bread. The last time I made some (over 15 years ago) it turned out as hard as a brick.
What I have learned so far is that sour dough is a natural ferment that partially breaks down the flour, making it easier to digest. Apparently some people who have problems with wheat and some other grains have been able to eat sour dough products. Don’t quote me on that, and if you who are wheat-intolerant try this, you do so at your own risk. But it’s something to think about. If you DO try it, please tell me how things went. I haven’t tried this yet since I am still detoxing, but it’s on my list of things to try when I get back to normal eating.
Meanwhile, I’ve been working on getting my family used to sour dough. When you are in charge of the nutrition of a growing family, you cannot completely clean out the pantry in one day and start over with all new foods that no one is used to. You have to make gradual changes, perhaps using up your supply of one thing before replacing it with something else. For instance, when switching from processed flour to whole wheat, you want to gradually work your whole wheat into your recipes, slowly increasing the amount of whole wheat while decreasing the amount of white flour in any given recipe. The same works when switching from sugar to honey, etc.
So this sour dough recipe finds me in the middle of that change. It’s adapted from one I found online, in which I replace the sugar with honey, and the olive oil (which is expensive) with bacon grease or butter.
First you need sour dough starter. Make it by mixing 1 1/2 cups flour with 1 cup warmish water (if you’re on a city water line, use some other water that is not chlorinated or fluoridated). Pour this into a crock or glass container, and cover with a loose fitting lid or plate. I bought a crock at the thrift store just for this purpose. Let this mixture sit in a warm place for 24-48 hours. By this time, it should be slightly bubbly and smell slightly sour. Feed it more flour and water, and stir well. (I usually add flour and water in a 1 1/4 cup to 1 cup ratio–slightly more flour than water–so the sour dough doesn’t get too thin.) Let this stand another 4-5 hours until bubbly.
You should now be able to use the sour dough in any recipe (look online: there are scads of recipes). Every time you use the sour dough, always leave some in the crock, and add more flour and water to keep it going. If you use the sourdough every day, you can keep it stored in a warm place (I keep mine near the wood stove in winter; on the counter in summer). Otherwise, you need to refrigerate it, feeding it at least once a week to keep it alive. Refrigerated sour dough MUST be allowed to warm up to room temperature before using in recipes; this takes about 4-5 hours. In our house, things stored in the fridge tend to be forgotten, so I leave mine out and find ways to use it every day.
Now for the recipe I used today:
Sour Dough Pancakes
Dissolve 1 teaspoon baking soda in 1 tablespoon warm water. Set this aside.
In a mixing bowl, combine the following, mixing well:
2 cups sour dough starter
1 egg
2 tablespoons honey
1/4 cup melted butter or bacon grease
Heat your griddle. When it’s hot enough (and not before), gently fold the soda water into the batter. It will foam up as you do this. That’s the best part, because that’s what makes the pancakes light and fluffy instead of heavy and dense. This batter will not “pour”. Scoop up about a third cup of batter and plop it on to the griddle. Fry just as you would any other pancake. Makes about 12 pancakes.
Pancakes can be eaten with anything: butter & maple syrup, honey & cinnamon, applesauce, apple butter, jam, your home made jam or jelly that didn’t gel, butter & molasses, etc. We’ve even used leftover pancakes as bread and made sandwiches with them. Any kind of sandwich, from peanut butter & jelly to meat & cheese. Or you can make a breakfast sandwich with hot pancakes and eggs with ham, bacon or sausage.
Do not double this recipe. I tried that once, but by the time I got to the last third of the batter, the foaming action of the soda water had subsided, and the remaining pancakes turned out more thick and dense. It’s better to make a new batch when the first one is done. What I have done (for our large family) is mix up several batches in separate bowls, and add the soda water to the next batch after the previous batch has run out.
courageous women, please (part 2)
22 Feb 2012 1 Comment
The second female to appear in Courageous is Adam Mitchell’s wife, Victoria. Here we have a woman who has learned a vital skill in being a good help to her husband.
With a few softly spoken words, given at the right time, and with the right attitude, she is able to help her husband be a better father and a kinder friend. She never says too much, and she doesn’t nag. Did you get that? When Adam doesn’t get it right away, she leaves him alone. When he signals the end of the conversation, she closes her mouth. But when he needs her, she’s there with her words of wisdom and comfort. When he expresses regret, she helps him recover without accusation, and without instructions about what he should do differently.
But Victoria doesn’t know everything, and she knows it. When she hurts, when she has questions, she goes to him. She seeks his counsel.
In her first scene, Victoria confronts Adam with a suggestion that he spend more time with his son. She offers one idea for how he may do this, and offers a valid reason why Adam’s own idea might not work. And she leaves it at that. Adam doesn’t take action on what she has said, but she leaves him alone about it. She doesn’t keep bringing it up. Later on, when Adam voices his intention to follow through with her suggestion, she expresses mild surprise, but no I-told-you-so. Instead, her tone implies support for him. She’s glad for his sake, and does not take pride in it being her idea.
“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” –Proverbs 25:11
“There is that speaketh like the piercings of a sword: but the tongue of the wise is health.” –Proverbs 12:18
“She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.” –Proverbs 31:26
By contrast, let’s think about Judy Austin. Diehard Sherwood fans will remember her from their first movie, Flywheel. Now there was your classic nagging woman. Sarcastic, to boot. Yes, her husband was in the wrong. But you could see how she made things so much worse with her continual nagging. She just couldn’t let it go. She continually brought up his faults day after day. Mealtimes in that house were a nightmare to be endured rather than a time of respite and family camaraderie. She couldn’t let God deal with him without her help. And by her attitude, she painted a distorted picture of him for her son.
“…the contentions of a wife are a continual dropping.” –Proverbs 19:13
“A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike.” –Proverbs 27:15
Think about the leaky faucet that won’t stop its plink, plink, plink in the night when you’re trying to sleep, and you get the idea. A man wants this kind of woman to just shut up, but she won’t. And he’s powerless to do anything about it. No wonder some men spend less and less time at home.
So how should a wife handle a husband who isn’t doing right and who won’t listen to her advice?
“Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, if any obey not the word, they also may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives.” –1 Peter 3:1
“Without the word” means without her trying to intervene with her own words of advice.
“Conversation” means her whole manner of life: her habits, her character, the way she conducts herself throughout the day, how she relates to others, etc.
One more word about Judy Austin. Here is where I think Sherwood would do well to focus on the women. If you watched Flywheel, think about what happened when God dealt with Jay. He apologizes for being a rotten husband and father, confesses his need for God to take over his life, and commits to being a good husband and father. Suddenly Judy was a completely different person. Now suddenly she never nags, and is very supportive of his decisions. They study the Bible together, they have good, peaceful mealtimes, she builds him up and encourages him.
Now, I’m not saying this doesn’t happen. Wives do change when their husbands get in line with God’s Word. But the movie could leave us with the impression that her nagging was at least justified, if not (in some distorted way) helpful. Women have said to us (my husband is a pastor and we sometimes do counseling together), “If my husband would just do right, I wouldn’t have to nag him.” Or, “But my husband isn’t holy and perfect like Christ, so I can’t be to him what the Church is supposed to be to Christ [as Paul instructs in Ephesians 5].” Wives need to know that regardless of the circumstance, nagging is wrong. No matter what the outcome, it is not God’s way.
So ladies, what kind of wives are we? Are we tactfully helping our men with humility and love, or are we dripping faucets? And for those who are single, I exhort you: please, please develop good habits of humility and tact now so that if/when God blesses you with a husband you will not have to learn the hard way, on the job, like I did.
courageous women, please (part 1)
21 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in biblical womanhood, movie review: Courageous
Last month the new Courageous DVD arrived in our mailbox. Let me just say first and foremost that I like the movie. A lot. In fact, it’s still in my lap top DVD drive. Seriously. I have watched it several times all the way through, and parts of it more than that. I’ve watched all the special features, including the bonus features that came with the exclusive collector’s edition. I watched the movie with the director’s commentary turned on. I have analyzed and evaluated and meditated and … well, you get the idea. My husband thinks I’m obsessed.
I think the fine folks at Sherwood Pictures have done a great job, once again. Each movie they’ve produced is better than the one before. But I have come to the conclusion that something is missing. Well, maybe not missing, per se, but they haven’t focused on it.
Sherwood Pictures has made four great movies focusing on men. They needed to do that. Men are the heads of their homes, and if we’re going to reach the home, we should go after the men. But now that they’ve done four fantastic movies for men, let’s see them do one for women. Wives. Mothers. Daughters. Sisters. Single women. What is OUR biblical role? How do WE become more godly? Show us that in a movie, Alex and Stephen. 
Since they haven’t done that, and since Courageous shows us a number of different females of all ages and in a variety of situations, I intend to write a series of posts about the women in this movie. We will take them one at a time, in the order of their appearance in the movie. Be warned. I will step on toes. (A preacher once apologized for stepping on toes, saying, “I wasn’t aiming for your toes; I was aiming for your heart.”)
The first female to appear in Courageous is the woman in the purple top who stops to help Nathan after the attempted robbery and subsequent wreck of his vehicle. She has a friend with her, so we’ll talk about them both together.
At the scene of a wreck, at the moment it happens, two women are the first to respond and come to the aid of a man who is probably injured to some degree. They show kindness and concern, but they also show a bit of bravery. Let me just say right off that I am in no way prejudiced. Please don’t take this the wrong way. But this movie is set in the “Deep South” of southern Georgia. I’ve lived in the south, and in some places it still takes a certain amount of courage for two white women to stop and help an injured black man in the middle of an attempted robbery involving two other black men. My point is, they cared more about the injured man than they did about themselves. They did not even wait for the thief to run away first. They were right there, immediately. For all they knew, the robber might have been armed, but they didn’t even think about that. Their focus was the man who needed their help.
In Paul’s first letter to Timothy, he gives a list of the characteristics of spiritually-minded women. In that list, we find these words: “…if she have relieved the afflicted…” (1 Timothy 5:10). The Greek word translated “relieved” carries the idea of being available whenever help is needed. Though these women “just happened” to be there at the right time, their attitude was obvious. They were available to help, and were more than willing to do so. They weren’t among the many people in real life who drive on by, assuming someone else will pull over. They also had time. Whatever else had been on their agenda that day could wait. Their time was now given to a needy stranger.
Proverbs 31:20 says, “…she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.” In the words of John Gill’s commentary, “…she gives with both hands, liberally and largely.” Whatever these women could do to help this stranger, they were ready to do it.
We all know the story of the Good Samaritan. He did what needed done, not just for a complete stranger, but for a complete stranger who was considered his enemy by reason of his ethnicity. Our Lord rebuked the selfishness of a certain lawyer with this example of love for a neighbour, defining “neighbour” as any person, no matter who they are, what they do, or where they live. Even your enemy is your neighbour. “Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise” (Luke 10:36-37).
Love. It’s not a fuzzy feeling. It’s a verb. It’s a purpose. It’s an attitude that dictates all that we do. Love for God, love for our fellow man, love for self — all demonstrated by what we do. “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (1 John 3:17).
eating disorders
29 Jan 2012 2 Comments
in healthy eating, spiritual journeys
What I am about to share may seem intensely personal. Some people may wonder how…why…I could open myself up like this. Well, those who know me best will love me anyway. The opinions of those who don’t know me, don’t matter to me so much. But mostly I write these things because I know I’m not alone. But I didn’t always know that. This may resonate with someone reading this, and they may finally begin to get the help they were too ashamed to ask for.
Are anorexia and bulimia the only eating disorders? Certainly they are the most well-known. But if you define “eating disorder” as “not eating in a decent and orderly way”, then we open it up to all sorts of ways of eating that may not be right or healthy or godly (remember the “whether therefore ye eat or drink” verse). Based on what I read in Scripture, I’ve had an eating disorder for as long as I can remember. Even longer than that, based on family stories.
Hi, my name is Cathy, and I’m a picky eater.
*****Let me just set one thing straight, right here and now. I am in NO WAY blaming my parents for anything here. This is not about going back to your early childhood to find excuses for current bad behaviour. That is a ploy used by modern psychiatry, and I will NOT go there. This is about me, not them. Most of us who have been parents more than a year (and some sooner) have been confronted with what my parents faced: a stubborn, wilful child who would NOT be told what to do. You should sympathize with them, not criticize them.*****
It all started when they tried to mix mashed potatoes in with my applesauce when I was about a year old. By the time I was five years old, I was a confirmed picky eater. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t eat it. Nor would I be tricked into eating it by having it cleverly disguised as something else. Nor could you talk about how “delicious” something was. In fact, my mother told me so often that onions were “delicious” that I became convinced that the word “delicious” meant onions. A sure-fire way to make me not eat something was to tell me it was “delicious.” (I still don’t like to use that word, preferring to describe foods I like as yummy.)
My earliest memory of comparing myself to others occurred one day in kindergarten. We were lined up by height to have our pictures taken, and I was third in line. I felt something was wrong with me because I was not first. My best friend was first. She was small, and dainty, and took dainty little bites out of her bologna sandwich. Not me. When confronted with a food I liked (bologna on store-bought white bread was a great treat to me), I wolfed it down like there was no tomorrow.
I wished I was small, like my friend. I wished I could take dainty bites. I could not understand why I was different.
You must understand that I was certainly not fat. Far from it. I was what some people described as scrawny, and remained that way for the first ten to twelve years of my life. But somehow I thought I needed to be smaller in order to be beautiful.
The years of my childhood passed with what seemed to me a disturbing number of embarrassing situations. I hated being invited to people’s houses. I was sure to be served some food I could not bear to eat. I would sit there in shame, not wanting to eat that food, yet wishing with all my being that I could, and thus save myself from humiliation. Sometimes I tried, and was sure I would throw up. Other times it was those abominable onions, of which the whole world seemed so fond, that stopped me from even trying.
Having people to eat at our house was a little better. If it was a family with children, my mother would fix foods I liked, perhaps thinking if I liked it, all children would like it. But if there were no children, she would fix a more “adult” meal, usually something I could not bear to eat. I would sit miserably, sometimes with a peanut butter sandwich, while everyone else laughed and talked and praised the food. I was sure they all thought I was an overgrown baby who couldn’t eat real food.
The crowning embarrassment, however, took place in a restaurant. I ordered from the kids’ menu while the rest of the family ate from the all-you-can-eat salad bar. As I sat there with my hot dogs and fries, I saw a boy from my third grade class serving himself from the buffet. If it had been any other third grade boy, this might not have bothered me. But this boy was Mr. Perfect. He was Teacher’s Pet. The one person in our whole class who could do no wrong. And now somehow he had entered the Adult Food World. I slunk down in my seat, hoping he wouldn’t notice me.
More time passed, and I entered my teen years. I began putting on weight, not because I began to eat better, but because I began sneaking food I liked best. I’d get up late at night to eat ice cream after everyone else was asleep. I’d use my babysitting money to buy snacks at the corner store near our house. If I didn’t have money, I’d “find” some around the house, or I’d ask for more than I really needed when we had to have money for a school field trip or something like that.
Meanwhile, I’d find ways to get around eating what was served at supper time. I’d wait till everyone else was gone from the table before making my move. Soup might be poured back into the pot. Fish might be wrapped in a napkin and buried in the umbrella stand. (For years afterward, the softball that was also in there smelled of fish!) Little bundles of napkin-wrapped tidbits would be stuck into the wrought-iron curlicues of our dining room table.
College was a little better, since I could take what I wanted from the cafeteria, and no one asked questions. I even discovered how yummy a salad bar can be, with all those amazing toppings that did not come from a garden—chopped eggs, diced ham, bacon bits, croutons, and that amazing invention, Ranch Dressing. And I discovered another veggie I liked better raw than cooked: broccoli. (Carrots had long since been a favourite of mine.)
But even in college I feared being asked out to dinner. Most of my friends were missionary kids from places like Japan and Korea. I had never enjoyed Asian foods, but their favourite restaurants were Chinese. Only one dish did I learn to like: cubes of tofu in pleasantly-salted beef broth. To their credit, they did get me to at least try such foreign stuffs as dehydrated seaweed and dried squid. (Dried squid, in my opinion, tastes like salty rubber bands, and is as strange to chew.)
Then it happened: I fell in love with a man who has absolutely no dislikes in the food world. He teased me about not eating veggies. It wasn’t fair for him to do that, since there were a lot of veggies I was eating by then. (Four is a lot, right?) The change came when we started having children. Tom passed me the corn. I said, “No, thanks.” He passed it to our two year old son. He said, “No, thanks.” I said, “Pass me the corn.” And that was the beginning of me forcing myself to eat vegetables.
Slowly, over time, I began to study out what God had to say about my eating habits. I found verses such as these:
“Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” –1 Corinthians 10:31
“And into whatsoever city ye enter, and they receive you, eat such things as are set before you.” –Luke 10:8
“Hast thou found honey? eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it.” –Proverbs 25:16
I also studied what God had to say about self-control and self-discipline, areas I was severely lacking in, and not just in my eating habits.
I began to see that all this, like everything in life, is a spiritual issue. I made it more a matter of prayer than I had ever done before. I have had some victories, and some failings, but I can see the Lord’s hand in all the lessons I have learned.
God is a God of order and moderation. This has been the hardest of all to learn. Do we live to eat, or do we eat to live? I think the true path is somewhere in between. We’re not to be stuffing ourselves, but we are to enjoy our food. We need to eat healthy foods that will make our bodies strong and keep our minds clear and focused, but that doesn’t mean it should be boring, bland, and tasteless.
So let’s eat to the glory of God (first priority) and enjoy the life He has given us!
granny newton’s cough and sore throat remedy
24 Jan 2012 1 Comment
in herbalism
1/4 cup raw local honey
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar, raw (unpasteurized) if possible
1 clove garlic, minced
pinch of dried cayenne pepper, crushed
Mix all ingredients in a glass or ceramic dish or cup (plastic will absorb odor of garlic; vinegar may react adversely with metal). Allow to sit for ten minutes. Strain through clean fish net (buy a fine mesh aquarium net at pet shop; keep on hand just for this purpose).
About the ingredients:
Honey contains essential heat-sensitive nutrients that are destroyed by pasteurization. This is why I always buy raw. It’s one of those things I will pay the extra cost for, for the health of my family. Honey is a safe and natural antibiotic. You can use it on cuts and scrapes in place of those ointments you get at the store. Local honey contains pre-digested local pollen that acts as an antidote for people suffering from pollen-related allergies. I haven’t been afflicted with this myself, but I’ve heard it works wonders.
Apple cider vinegar used to be made on farms all over North America, wherever they grew apples. A new batch would be started at the beginning of the apple harvest by farm wives tossing apple cores and peelings into a wooden barrel fitted with a bung at the bottom for decanting later. Water just to cover would be added, as well as the scrapings of pots used to make jams, jellies and preserves. This mixture was allowed to ferment, first becoming alcoholic, then turning to vinegar. Farm wives took pride in achieving their own unique flavour. Another way to get apple cider vinegar is to let raw apple cider sit until it has gotten past the alcoholic stage. It has to be raw cider, because pasteurization destroys the enzimes and bacteria needed for the cider to properly ferment.
(Incidentally, this is why store-bought milk goes bad and must be thrown out, while raw milk gets nice and sour and can be used in baking.)
If you don’t have your own apple trees and a cider press, you could buy a jug of raw cider in the fall and let it turn to vinegar just to have on hand for medicinal purposes.
Garlic is God’s best antibiotic. You can use it in just about any meat, bean or vegetable dish you make. If you’re sick, you can even make a tea of it by placing two peeled cloves in a cup and adding hot water. But I think it’s better to put it in something like chicken soup or this honey cough mixture.
Cayenne pepper is good for all sorts of things that ail you, including heart disease. In one instance, a man had suffered a heart attack and was thought to have died. Efforts to revive him had failed, but his son somehow managed to get some cayenne pepper powder into his mouth. By the time they got him to the hospital, he had recovered consciousness and his heartbeat was strong and regular. Despite its hotness and the burning sensation one feels when eating it, cayenne is also good for all sorts of digestive issues. It also clears your sinuses, relieves migraines, and can be made into a salve to relieve the itching caused by psoriasis and other skin issues.
I got my year’s supply of cayenne pepper by accident. The pepper plants I bought at the nursery last spring were labeled “sweet banana peppers”, but turned out to be cayenne. When frost began to kill off the pepper plants, I picked them all (even the green ones) and strung them on quilting thread. I tied the ends together to make a loop, and hung them up above my wood stove to dry. I now have them stored in an open plastic container on a shelf in my kitchen, but if I had the space, I’d leave them hanging and break them off as I needed them.
I still have cayenne pepper powder from a crop we raised over seven years ago. I ground the dried peppers in my blender, but, oh, the pain to my nasal passages when I took the lid off!!! I’m not likely to do that again, preferring to crush a whole dried pepper as needed instead.
I could write a whole article about each of these ingredients, and hope to do so in the future. For now, though, I encourage you to do your own research, and see what you come up with.
