Barometer of Virtue

I dug this article up that I wrote almost two years ago because I was about to write another just like it: Grocery shopping takes a lot of discernment these days—at least for those of us who want to avoid a heart attack by 54. There are certain treasures we are told search for: antioxidants, multigrains, probiotics, fiber, and let’s not forget the golden word “organic.” David Brooks observes in Bobos in Paradise:

The visitor to Fresh Fields is confronted with a big sign that says, “Organic Items today: 130.” This is like a barometer of virtue. If you come in on a day when only 60 items were organic, you’d feel cheated. But when the number hits the three figures, you can walk through the isles with moral confidence, glancing at the infinite variety of cabbage, like kale and bok choy, that the scions of the old Main Line families would never even have heard of (58).

If we were only to hunt for these words, our trip would be easy and fulfilling. But along with the treasure hunt, we have land mines to avoid. And they are hidden all over the packaging. Pretty much any word that you cannot pronounce or anything that ends in “ate” hiding out in the ingredient list are to be avoided at all cost. These precautions keep us away from the horror of processed foods. Apparently, preservatives can keep fruits from wrinkling but not my face. Processed foods are pretty scary, and we should have an awareness of their effects, such as how many maggots are allowed in a can of mushrooms, or how a steady diet of preservatives can lower the levels of brain chemicals that help us to think! And processed food doesn’t fill you up like real, fresh ingredients. So I try to be a conscientious shopper. Fortunately, I enjoy cooking and baking, so I serve up a whole lot of “wholesome.” But I can’t resist a handful of Doritos if the opportunity arises. I might hand out fresh cookies over Little Debbies, but my kids are intimately familiar with fruit snacks and salt and vinegar chips. And I might do my share of homemade cooking over here, but it’s not like I’m milking my own cows and churning my own butter (but thanks, mom, for the free-range chicken eggs!). I do draw the line at Cheese Whiz. Was that stuff really made for eating? Really? Needless to say, our family is acquainted with good health habits, while at the same time has no problem taking down some Oreos. We can’t see what goes on inside our digestive system. As everything combines in our stomach, who knows what dangerous side effects creep into our arteries and large intestine? We just hope the good stuff we take in goes to work fighting the bad guys. And we count on our organs doing their job. They say you are what you eat. That’s why I avoid Cheese Whiz. Here’s the thing. In this battle for health and physical fitness, it is super-cool to raise awareness. We all agree that education is key. Food has to come with nutrition labels, revealing all of their funky ingredients right down to the red dye #40 (but not the ground insect shells that make those bright reds). Our spiritual health can also be quite invisible (to ourselves anyway). Christians seem to harbor no guilt in consuming processed spirituality and accepting it as Christian truth. Discernment = uncool. Buzz-kill. Even “quenchers of the Spirit.” I am shocked by all the false teaching circulated through emails, Facebook statuses, YouTube videos, articles, as well as books, radio programs, television broadcasts, and the pulpit. How did Christians become such gluttons of feel-good messages that ultimately leave them bloated with false confidence? Has the gospel really been reduced to “if you forward this fuzzy little email about the helpfulness of angels, you and 11 of your closest friends will be blessed in a special way at exactly 6:43 P.M”? Or, more subtly, we convince ourselves that supporting the right causes and looking down on the intolerant will put us in a higher class of Christian morality. Our faith has content, and it is an area in our lives that needs 100% purity. And we’re full of Cheese Wiz! Christ reveals in his priestly prayer that we are sanctified by truth, and that his word is truth (John 17:17). His Word actually separates. That’s what sanctify means, set apart. Discernment is the discipline of separating the truth from the lie—the wholesome from the processed. Let’s give our friends and family (and brains!) fresh ingredients. Pray for discernment. Start making your own mental nutrition labels. Let God’s Word be your barometer of virtue when consuming your information. Then you can ask yourself questions about the teaching you are receiving and sharing, like: What does this say about who God is? What does it reveal about his Word? How about Christ, his work, salvation, and his church? What does it say about law and grace? Yes, I want to be a good steward of this body God has given me. In doing that, I point forward to the future, incorruptible body I will be given at the Lord’s second coming. But I know that everyday this body gets closer to dying. If we are so concerned about the health of our physical bodies, and yet we know that they are dying, shouldn’t we show a much greater concern over our spiritual life, which is eternal? Keep out the pesticides!