C is for chicken, that's good enough for me.

By and large, being vegan has gone more smoothly than I expected these past 3 weeks. It takes a little more planning and research, and I still really miss cheese, but I do LOVE veggies and take great pride in making them delicious enough to entice my husband and kids. So it's not like I was acutely suffering every time a meal hour rolled around.

But then, chicken.

A rotisserie chicken, to be precise. Its heady scent, golden brown skin, and perfectly moist flesh caught me off guard about 5 days into Lent. As I went about my usual meal-prep-for-the-normals work, I stumbled right into the meat-temptation crisis without even seeing it coming. As I began to pull the meat from the bones, the texture alone was nearly enough to send me into a Cookie Monster style feeding frenzy!

Up until that moment, the first few days had been challenging, but manageable. I've taken a general strategy of sensory avoidance of foods that tempt me most, except for when I can be mindful and intentional enough to really enjoy the sights and smells I miss. I try not to let myself gaze with absentminded longing at this quesadilla or that shrimp alfredo, but when I'm well-prepared you just might catch me deeply sniffing my son's burrito before I let him eat it. (Don't judge me!)

But what I hadn't counted on was the impact of moving past sight and smell, to touch. Simply engaging this one additional sense was enough to nearly override all reason and resolve, and derail this plant-based train while it was hardly out of the station. And I don't even really like chicken that much! It was just the sensory immersion... chicken in my eyes.... chicken in my nose.... chicken in my fingers.... how can it not go in my mouth next???

That moment of being overwhelmed and nearly overpowered was powerful. All that kept my mouth empty through deboning that entire bird was Meaghan. I thought, "She doesn't even know I'm doing this. How can it matter if I just have one tiny bite?" And then, in answer, from the wiser part of me: "Does it matter if she knows? Your purpose in this is to know her experience better. So know her better in this."


Counting the Cost 
Two things became crystal clear in that very moment:

• I could make this easier: I could purge the whole house of animal products, and inflict a vegan diet on my husband and our other 2 kids (even if it might lead to mutiny). But I can't fully embrace the experience if I avoid the tensions she lives with as a member of this non-vegan house every day.
• The slow, trudging, daily compliance to the rules is a part of being vegan, but I would never gain fuller understanding of Meaghan's experience/choices/sacrifices without pushing through that moment with integrity, even if no one would see the compromise.

One who in every respect has been tempted...
And then, as I wrestled with my heart and appetite, struggling to puzzle out whether the wrestling itself had any value, that still small Voice: "I know. I did this once for you."

Since then we have a great high priest who as passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:14-16)

Suddenly, there was vision to see my Savior a little better... a little bigger. He could have been incarnated onto some mountain in some remote corner of his world. He could have lived out his days  isolated, set apart physically, walking the path of least resistance until it was time for his sacrificial death. He could have made it easier for himself.

But he got dirty instead. He walked right in among us, touched the socially, physically, and spiritually unclean. He was the object of more than his share of ridicule, opposition, oppression, and slander. He not only put on our flesh but walked it down a path that made him intimately familiar with every temptation I face, yet without sin.

This moment rocked me. It was like when you stand between two mirrors, and see yourself seeing yourself. This small taste of sympathizing with Jesus' experience of learning to sympathize with my experience was powerful, transformative. Sharing in his perspective (even in microcosm) was profoundly faith-building and satisfying... in ways the best of chicken just can't touch.

Have this mind...

My daughter, Meaghan, is incredible.

Small-statured and often silent, our 16-year-old has been teaching me daily since her father and I married last year that there are many kinds of strength.  In particular, her choice to move from vegetarianism to veganism last Spring has showcased her uncommon strengths in:

• Self-control (I mean, seriously... a life without cheese???)
• Independence
• Determination to break from convenient/pervasive nutritional frameworks in our community in order to live out her convictions
• Creativity in baking without milk or eggs (If you don't think this deserves its own line item of acknowledgement, you haven't watched a vegan make cookies)

I have admired Meaghan's strength and self-discipline mostly from afar, as her taciturn nature has made getting to know her a bit slow going. While far from perfectly consistent (or as creative as she is), I have spent the last year trying to show her love through my cooking. It has actually been surprisingly easy to adjust a portion of each meal to conform to vegan rules with just a bit more care and label reading while grocery shopping, since I happen to already be running an approximately 85% plant-based diet for our household anyway.

Still, cooking for her has proven an inadequate strategy for entering Meaghan's world...

"God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering..."

As I have been praying for Meaghan this year, and seeking ways to build relationship with her, Lent has been approaching. Growing up Southern Baptist, we didn't do Lent. To be honest, I never understood what the purpose could possibly be of depriving oneself of something enjoyable for 40 days, especially if it doesn't add a thing to my salvation. (I may have jokingly resolved to give up shame and/or self-control in previous years, but that's about as close as I got to observance.) Not to be deterred by my cavalier attitude, the Lord blessed me with a few friends in adult life who observe Lent each year, and the idea lodged itself somewhere deep in my subconscious. 

There was something beautifully austere and weighty in what these friends do. I couldn't quite see the form of the thing clearly, but gradually I started wanting to have it, too. So, for the last 3 years or so, I've intended to observe Lent. (Celebrate the baby steps, folks.) But somehow Ash Wednesday always snuck up on me, and a rushed, thoughtless, last-minute sacrifice (which would likely only be of whatever thing I'm craving in the moment I remember Lent looming) just didn't seem to be taking this thing seriously enough.

This year's Lent didn't sneak up on me, but that doesn't mean I managed to prepare adequately. My disclaimer: I'm learning as I go, and trying to let the Lord use this experience however He will. I intended to read up on Lent this winter and go in knowing what it's all about and how to do it "right"... the reality of not doing this reading was almost enough excuse to put it off until next year.

But then the Lord brought Meaghan to mind.

To be more accurate, the Lord brought Jesus and my own 16-year-old self to mind. He reminded me of how far off and unreachable I had chosen to make myself, and of the incredible distance he came to enter my world and wear my experience...

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.  Phil 2:5-8

He reminded me how the one who spoke everything into being and holds it all together laid aside his comfort, his glory, his rights to take on our fragile, fallible flesh and limitations in order to reach us. Revealing just a glimpse of his experience through this analogous microcosm of my household, Jesus at once made himself yet more precious and personally invited me into Lent.

Don't get me wrong. I've got no delusions of grandeur here. I'm not comparing myself and this small/temporary sacrifice to His history-changing one. I'm not making any moral judgments about consuming or abstaining from animal products. And I'm not expecting this to necessarily change anything in my relationship with my daughter (to be honest, I haven't even told her about this resolution). My hope for this season of sacrifice is just for more understanding:

• of my Savior's experience in leaving his comfort and donning our flesh to reach us, and
• of my daughter's experience in choosing to live by her convictions rather than convenience, as part of a subpopulation that receives small consideration (and, at times, large disdain) from our community

For the record, I really miss cheese.
We're now, actually, almost 2 weeks into Lent, which means I've been observing vegan rules for the last 12 days. It has gotten, if not easier, at least more familiar... more habitual. I'm daily learning more about myself, Jesus, and maybe even Meaghan. Looking forward to sharing the lessons in days to come...

From Humble Beginnings....

I have not a very green thumb. In fact, it's black.

 

Seriously, anything green that I touch is doomed. Over time I have come to terms with my total inability to sustain & nurture plant life. All my produce, herbs, & flowers are store-bought. My front yard is brown. I've grieved & buried my hopes of growing my own veggies, let alone the dream of one day coaxing a bloom from a temperamental orchid. I'm just not that girl.

 

And so, I marvel at Jesus' tremendous gardening aptitude. He doesn't just want to grow his people.... He is uniquely and perfectly able! Scripture is full of references to His very green thumb at work:

· planting (Gen 1:11-12),

· sustaining & protecting (Isaiah 42:3),

· pruning (John 15:2),

· stimulating fruit (Gal 5:22-23),

· harvesting (Luke 10:2, Rev. 14:14-19)..... and these verses are just a small sampling!

But my favorite passage about our Lord's great agricultural abilities doesn't initially read like a gardening reference:

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:1-5)

 

 

Unlikely Seeds

 

While I can't even keep a mature drought-tolerant plant alive for more than a few days, Jesus, the Master Gardener, is continually working a horticultural miracle in our hearts through the trials we endure! The seed of suffering is sown into each of our lives; we all know there's no escaping it. We've seen suffering that takes root in the soil of some lives to spawn tenacious weeds of bitterness or despair. But in His mighty hands, I find that my seeds can grow something else...

 

If sufferings are the seeds, then the root Jesus cultivates in the believer's heart is endurance. It's not flashy. It's not even always visible above the surface. But it's about more than just getting by, or "keeping on keeping on." It's about laying down that which anchors little sprouts in place when wind or high waters threaten to rip them from the soil. It's about the formation of a conduit for the Living Water to enter, nourish, refresh, and strengthen souls.

 

Then, in time, from the deepening root of endurance begins to sprout the visible stalk of character. This we can see, and be encouraged by. Here the evidence of the Lord's work is displayed to those around us. The character and integrity of those who have suffered, more than that, who have embraced their sufferings as a means of better knowing the Savior, testify to the new creation forming within us. Character brings our Lord much glory, but He's not done yet... plants are meant to flower.

 

Like the elusive orchid, the Lord nurtures & beckons from character the bloom of hope. It is a beautiful and unlikely flower, considering the homely seeds of its origin. And it is unmistakably shaped and colored by Jesus. This is no frail bud that opens briefly and falls to the ground in the heat of the day. It's not optimism, positive thinking, or hoping for the best. True hope is a hearty bloom with vibrant colors that shout to a watching world that God has been faithful from the seed, to the root, to the plant, to the flower.... so He can be trusted to be faithful again. The bloom of hope testifies to Jesus' great ability to create and sustain life from any seed, in any soil.

 

 

Unlikely Treasures

 

There is obvious encouragement to glean here. I mean, aren't all our hearts easily encouraged by pretty & uplifting thoughts? But I believe there is a challenge of far more value....cherish and embrace your seeds. It's easy to prize flowers, just as hope is a thing of beauty that makes the heart glad, even (and especially) in dark times. But whose heart thrills at a handful of seeds? I see just a pile of tiny, brown, unappealing specks. My heart is not stirred to thankfulness for a portion of seeds, nor for a life sown with suffering.

 

However, I suspect those with green thumbs experience a little thrill when they buy a packet of seeds. Surely it must seem like a tiny envelope of possibilities. Likewise, let us not despise the sufferings with which our lives are sown, but rather cultivate sober gratitude & eyes filled with the vision of blooms to come, then let us thank the Lord for these means to plant anew. Let's not squander our sufferings, but instead cry out to the One who is both the Vinedresser & the Vine itself to have His way. With happy surrender, let us take stock of the fields of our lives this very day, thanking God for every seed, root, & shoot, and trusting His mighty ability to bring them all to bloom in His perfect timing!

 

Thus I come to the purpose of this blog. I hope to encourage & uplift with a bit of honest sharing about Jesus' horticultural work in my life. It's not all flowers and sunshine, but I'm hoping every snapshot of this garden-in-process will build your faith as much as I trust writing them will build mine. I hope you'll share your thoughts and experiences, too. In short, I hope you'll join me in the joyful work of waiting for blooms.