This page was created on December 1, 2004
This page was last updated on December 22, 2004

I must say I'm pretty lost for words and understanding. I have never had a problem eating and enjoying what I eat, so I can only imagine the consternation that Jenn must feel. I have seen her suffering, and can envision the internal battle and the pain that is attached to such an abject condition. There is truly a sense of helplessness as you watch someone you care about go through this kind of pain. It is also true, as Jenn has written, that many social events are centered in one way or another around food. So I guess a feeling of loneliness and lack of community must be part of Jenn's hell. I'm sure, however, that there are many who can relate to Jenn—on many different levels.

Whereas many of us may not be able to relate to her disappointment with an eating disorder and the pain it has caused her, there are many who struggle in life for various reasons and with differing disappointments. How hard is it, for example, for an infertile woman (or worse, someone who has lost a baby) to be around her friend's children, or for someone struggling with alcohol to be around people who appear to have it all together? After all, when any of us struggle we have a hard time being around those who don't get it, or who seem to exacerbate our pain. So often they are innocently, yet ignorantly, insensitive. How often do our words of "comfort" end up causing pain? I recall years ago how devastated my infertile wife was when friends would wish her a "Happy Mother's Day" at church.

It becomes even harder when we read "numbing" verses in the Bible like, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have felt from God" (2 Cor. 1:3-4). This can seem absurd when we are in the midst of our own pain.

Does God really care? Where is that "comfort" we are promised? Simply put, where is God when we hurt? I mean, can't God at least remove the temptations and/or the insensitive idiots? Who wants to learn character when we're suffering? In such a cursory analysis, it would seem that God is, as Al Pacino proclaimed in The Devil's Advocate, an "absentee landlord" who has a sick sense of humor, or at least an inability to "perform."

Or is it possible that in spite of how things appear, I may not have all the data to properly understand human maladies, which in turn often causes me to misinterpret the evil that surrounds me? Can I rather simply and humbly believe that God is sovereign in spite of all human perception? But when that's not enough to comfort those in pain, the best thing we can do is to shut up, listen, pray and provide as much comfort and understanding we can muster.

In the meantime, we can take Jenn's encouragement and enjoy the provision that God has given us, and count all our blessings during the festivals and memories that make up this holiday season. Maybe, as we feast this holiday season, we can do so in continued thanksgiving and find compassion for the many in this world that cannot!

It's pretty difficult to comment on this topic since we've moved beyond theory and observation and have pointed the spotlight directly at our own issues and challenges. Jenn puts herself out there, and Mike does too. I guess that makes it my turn to do the same.

Having watched what Jenn has been going through, I have felt for her. However, it wasn't until I read her piece, and started thinking about how I would comment on it, that I realized that Jenn and I share more in common than I thought. As someone who has been obese, dealing with food in a healthy light is a daily struggle for me. More importantly, I also have severe nut allergies that will, at best, send me to the emergency room. I'm often hard pressed to convey this to people who see me as the athletic guy that rides his bike to work five days a week. To the casual observer I look like the picture of health. But, I, like Jenn, can't will my body to react differently to the allergens that, left unchecked, could possibly take my life.

One reason that I didn't immediately make the connection is that my situation obviously isn't as pronounced as Jenn's. That is, I do have more control over my condition because if I avoid eating certain things, I can lead what appears to be a normal life. My routine almost allows me to ignore my condition, but there remain awkward moments when I have to fess up to reality. Having refused many generously offered cookies or invitations to Thai restaurants, I can definitely relate to Jenn's description of the lost bonding opportunities in the sea of food related activities.

After thinking about both Jenn and Mike's columns, I would like to conclude this topic with a slightly different angle. Building on Jenn's comment about the people who attended her "coffee and Jell-O" party, I'd like to thank and congratulate the people that carefully walk through our minefield at our side, the people that, without a second thought, make the extra effort to accept and work with our defects both physical and mental.

Perhaps they too provide some of the "comfort" that Mike speaks of. For every bonding opportunity that is lost when I refuse a cookie, I gain another when I pause to reflect on those who care enough about me to make sure that I am able to enjoy my evening. This may not change my reality, but it does make it easier to accept.

In 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul speaks of Christianity as "the ministry of reconciliation."⁵ By this, he means that the central story of the faith is the reconciliation of Man to God through the blood of His Son, Jesus. Christianity, then, is the ministry of reconciliation because all who claim the name of Christ are ministers—literally, servants in the Greek—of God's specific conciliatory purpose.

But Christianity is not only the ministry of reconciliation—it is the ministry of all things godly. One of the other theological terms applied to the act of Jesus' death on the cross is redemption. In conceiving Hollywood Jesus, David Bruce understood that Christianity is also the ministry of redemption—and in particular, it is the redemptive hope for our culture: not through legislation, stone-throwing or critical negativity, but through showing us the godly things already embedded in our culture. For God reveals Himself through all that He has created, even the things that we may not particularly like.

After Eden is dedicated to this redemptive vision. We believe, as G.K. Chesteron put it, that "humanity is not incidentally engaged, but eternally and systematically engaged, in throwing gold into the gutter and diamonds into the sea."⁶ That's not a reality we endorse. We'd like to help salvage the gold from the gutter, and rescue the diamonds from the sea.

Mike Gunn is a pastor at Harambee Church in Tukwila, Washington, and was cofounder of Mars Hill Church in Seattle.

Jenn Wright is a writer with degrees in literature and theology. She is co-writing the Narnia coverage for Hollywood Jesus, which has debuted this fall in anticipation of the first movie's 2005 release.

Hollywood Jesus Senior Editor Greg Wright is a writer and ordained minister of the dramatic arts. He teaches English Literature at Puget Sound Christian College, and is author of Peter Jackson in Perspective: The Power Behind Cinema's The Lord of the Rings.

Editor Dave Stark is an ordained minister and former Microsoft manager. He is now a partner in Restoring Hope Construction.

The Devil's Advocate is a composite personality of our consultants and editorial staff. He may look like someone you know—and probably thinks like a lot of them.

Susan Powter
On Food

Food=joy... guilt... anger... pain... nurturing... friendship... hatred... the way you look and feel.... Food=everything you can imagine.¹

Walter Benjamin
On Social Function

Taking food alone tends to make one hard and coarse... For it is only in company that eating is done justice; food must be divided and distributed if it is to be well received.²

Dorothy Allison
On Hunger

Hunger makes you restless. You dream about food—not just any food, but perfect food... the exact taste of buttery corn, tomatoes so ripe they split and sweeten the air, beans so crisp they snap between the teeth, gravy like mother's milk...³

Morris the Cat
On Food

Hmph! Din-din. I'll eat when I'm ready.⁴

Chesterton
On Perception
It is a strange thing that many truly spiritual men... have actually spent some hours in speculating upon the precise location of the Garden of Eden. Most probably we are in Eden still. It is only our eyes that have changed.⁷