Book Review: “God’s Diet” by Dorothy Gault

Dorothy Gault has a plan to take the complexity out of diet planning. Her diet includes no counting, no nutrition panel reading, no exchanges, no dozens of rules to remember.

In fact, there’s only one rule: “If God didn’t make it, don’t eat it.”

On the surface, God’s Diet is simple, straightforward, easy. Until you start asking the big question: What hasn’t God made?

Theologically speaking, it’s hard to come up with something God hasn’t made. I can only think of one: evil. And the idea of eating evil is pretty ridiculous, if you ask me.

So what does Gault mean when she talks about what God did or didn’t make?

Turns out, what God didn’t make is flour and sugar. (Who’d have thought?) So what’s off limits is anything with flour and sugar in it. Anything else, you can eat whole hog.

At least, that’s how Gault makes it sound, though she later backtracks to say that high-fat, high-sodium, high “legal”-sugar foods should be eaten in moderation.

This diet rubbed me wrong in several ways.

The first thing I didn’t like about it was that it violated one of my most sacred food rules: Food is not a moral issue.

There’s no such thing as a “good food” and a “bad food”. Food is morally neutral (sort of like money–you know the verse about the love of money being the root of all kinds of evils?) Turning food into a moral issue binds one to a law we have been set free from in Christ. It creates condemnation where no condemnation need be and false self-righteousness where righteousness is not.

Gault speaks in direct opposition to this “food rule” of mine.

“When we eat something sinful, we need to know that it is sinful. Once again, if God didn’t make it, it must be sinful.”

Errnt. Strike one.

Secondly, the theology in this book is terrible. Gault can’t decide whether she’s a creationist or an evolutionist, constantly switching between the two depending on which provides better “support” for her diet.

She really makes no case for why God didn’t make flour and sugar-and completely ignores the many instances in which bread is made by or commanded by God.

God commanded the eating of unleavened bread, manna was used to prepare bread (with no indication of it being wrong). Jesus multiplied loaves and taught His disciples to pray “Give us this day our daily bread.” What’s more, Jesus said that He Himself was bread from heaven, and commanded His disciples to take and eat the bread that symbolized His body. If flour is indeed sinful, would Jesus have done this? Would He have told His disciples to pray: “Give us this day our daily sinfulness…and lead us not into temptation”? Would Jesus have said “I am the sinfulness from heaven”? Would Jesus have commanded His disciples “Take and sin…do this in remembrance of Me?”

Clearly this diet has everything to do with ideology and nothing at all to do with Christianity, despite the author’s references to God and the garden of Eden.

Errnt. Strike two.

Finally, Gault’s vilification of flour, specifically, has little if any scientific support.

Gault claims that flour is bad for us because it has been processed; while unprocessed grain is good for us because it is in the form in which God made it. She uses a child eating corn and ending up with drawers full of corn as an example of how corn in it’s natural state is fundamentally different from corn flour (also known as cornmeal).

In its natural state, Gault tells us, grain is indigestible. In its processed state (when ground as flour), it is digestible and therefore bad.

Come again?

Since when is something being digestible a bad thing? And even if it is, Gault mistakes visibility with reality.

The truth is that just because Gault cannot see the corn kernels in the poop after eating cornmeal does not mean that the cornmeal was fully digested.

The same fiber that is indigestible in corn is still indigestible in cornmeal. It’s just ground so you can’t see it when it comes out in the feces.

Now it’s true that some forms of processing do make chemical changes to food products–but the making of flour is not one of them. The only difference between whole grain flour and the grain itself is the size of the particles. The only difference between how the two are digested is time We don’t have to chew the flour as long, don’t have to mechanically churn it in our stomachs as long–but the starch is the same starch and the fiber the same fiber.

There is no evidence that whole grain flour and unprocessed whole grains are fundamentally different.

Errnt. Strike three.

She’s out, and so is this diet.


Rating: 0 stars
Category: Diet
Synopsis:Gault proposes a “simple” but nutritionally and theologically unsound diet based on one rule: “If God didn’t make it, don’t eat it.”
Recommendation: Don’t read it. Don’t believe it. Don’t promote this sort of thinking. It’s wrong.


Safely Falling

I was completely out of control, but I was attached to one who knew what was going on and who was in control.

The air roared past my ears as we free-fell towards the ground.

My mind strained to remember my instructor’s directions, even though I could no longer hear his voice.

Soaring above the clouds

Arch my back, kick my bottom, hands hanging on to my harness chicken wing fashion.

Content that I’d followed instructions, I could enjoy the ride.

Exhilaration.

Free-falling.

Amazing.

He pulled the chute, the free-fall ended far too soon. I wanted it to last forever.

Soaring through the clouds

Now he guided my hands into the chute’s handles, asked me if my harness was comfortable. Everything was fine.

He told me he would be loosening the connections that held us. I’d drop a bit lower, so inches would separate our bodies.

Now, here, I felt a glimmer of fear. I knew it would be safe, I knew I’d still be attached. But it wouldn’t be the same. Once he’d lowered me, I wouldn’t be able to feel his presence. Would I be able to make it without that sure sensory feedback reminding me that I was safe?

I would choose to trust, I told myself–and so I did.

Flying, closer up

I relaxed as the distance grew between us.

I was still safe, still connected, still hearing his voice. He was still guiding the chute.

He asked me if I wanted to do anything fancy–circles, loop-de-loops, or the like. “Or would you rather just hang out?”

It was hard to push the words from my lungs: “I’d rather just hang out.”

“That’s okay,” he told me, “we’ll just hang out.”

And so we did, arms outstretched, hands in the chute’s handles. We hung there, suspended between sky and earth, observing the scenery below as we softly drifted along.

My head started spinning. I willed it to stop. I was enjoying this too much to be sick.

I wanted to see.

Preparing for landing

I told my instructor that I was getting dizzy. He encouraged me to breathe deeply, said he’d go gently.

I breathed, my eyes taking in everything I saw.

Beside me, Joanna and her instructor were doing crazy moves.

I smiled and breathed and wished I could be flying forever, and never.


Burning coals on my head

I am the world’s worst neighbor.

I let my grass go so long I had to use my hedge-clippers to get the crab grass short enough to mow.

No joke.

So when my neighbor starts his lawn mower when I’ve decided to at last tackle the front yard, I’m feeling serious guilt.

I see him glance over at my old-fashioned mower taking its hundred passes.

He’s done with his front yard and moves on to his back.

He’s mowing a little extra, taking a few feet out of my backyard.

Instead of returning my negligence, he’s showing me kindness.

My hair’s almost on fire.

Darn it all. Now I feel obligated to mow the BACK YARD too.

I haven’t even attempted that since the Fourth of July.

“Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.”
~Romans 12:19-20 (ESV)


WiW: Real (Musings from the Velveteen Rabbit)

The Week in Words

“What is real?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

Real. Meaningful. Authentic. Significant.

Things I want to be.

Things I want my life to be.

But what is real?

Is it having all the bells and whistles? Is it being the very latest and greatest?

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

No, real is not about the gee-gaws and do-dads. It’s not about externals.

The best job, the biggest house, the nicest car.

Those things aren’t what makes life meaningful, real, significant.

What makes me real is the One who loves me.

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time…. Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.”

Real doesn’t happen in a day.

Authenticity. Meaningfulness.

A flash in the pan, here and then gone might be exciting, but it’s not real.

Real takes time. It takes work.

It’s faithful presence. It’s being used. It’s giving pieces of yourself away. It’s being with people in the tough times and in the joyous times and in every time in between.

“The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.”

What I would like to have the end result without the middle.

To be effective without having to get up every morning and go to work. To make a difference without having to get involved in people’s messes. To be authentic without having to expose my own messes. To be holy without having to fight against my flesh.

Oh that Real could be achieved in one glorious battle instead of through this tedious, painful process called sanctification.

The process of becoming real is boring.

Yet boring is the life to which God has called most of us.

“Scripture also calls us to embrace the mundane and ordinary as holy and beautiful: ‘… aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands’ (1 Thessalonians 4:11).”
~Andrew Byers, in We Need Boring Christians

And in the boring, we become REAL.

Meaningful.

Authentic.

Significant.

*****All quotes except the last taken from Margery Williams Bianco’s The Velveteen Rabbit*****


Don’t forget to take a look at Barbara H’s meme “The Week in Words”, where bloggers collect quotes they’ve read throughout the week.


On Bibles that aren’t translations (Choosing a Bible, Part 2c)

Now that you understand formal vs functional equivalence, have heard my best argument for functional equivalence, and have discovered my personal bias for formal equivalence…

you’re ready for a bunny trail.

Right?

Of course right.

The categories that I’ve deliberately left out of my discussion of methods of translations are the one-man translation and the paraphrase.

The One-Man Translation

The most famous of one-man translations (perhaps the only one popularly available?) is Eugene Peterson’s The Message.

The Message is a translation, in that it was translated from the original languages (Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic) by a scholar in those languages (Peterson). But it differs from most other translations in two important ways.

First The Message goes a step further than functional equivalence in trying to make the “tone” of the text closer to the original. This is called “idiomatic” translation. When we take into account the fact that the New Testament was written in Koine (or common) Greek rather than the more formal classical Greek, this mode of translation makes sense. The New Testament (at least) was written in the vernacular, not in the language of the elite but in the language of the common man–street language. The Message approximates this effect. This is great in one respect and not-so-great in another. Remember that the further we get from a word-for-word translation, the more opportunity there is for interpretation to be included in the translation. So The Message can contain a lot of interpretation.

The other distinct way in which The Message differs from other translations is that it is a translation undertaken by one man. While most Bible translation is done by a relatively large group of scholars, The Message was translated by just one scholar. This means that unlike other translations, The Message is prone to reflect the linguistic and theological strengths and weaknesses of its one translator. Where other translations have a system of checks and balances to correct for linguistic weaknesses and theological slants, a one-man translation does not.

Due to the high probability that The Message and other one-man translations (if they exist) contain personal interpretation, I do not believe that they are a good choice for personal study. The Message can be a useful tool, and is definitely an interesting read, but it should not be one’s primary “Bible”.

The Paraphrase

The second category of Bible that I haven’t yet discussed is the paraphrase. Paraphrases are, well…

How exactly does one describe a paraphrase?

A paraphrase is what you get when someone puts the Bible into their own words. Unlike with translations, where scholars work from the original languages and translate the original language into a modern language, paraphrases generally take an English translation as their starting point.

As a result, the paraphrase is VERY prone to interpretation, and lacks the scholarship that goes into creating a functionally-equivalent translation. Translators of a functional-equivalence Bible go to great pains to ensure that the way they are translating reflects the best scholarship on what the original audience would have understood from individual words, phrases, and pericopes. Paraphrasers have no such scholarship underlining their word and phrase choices. They are simply rephrasing the English Bible as they understand it–not attempting to translate it as it should have been or would have been understood by its original audience.

The primary example of a paraphrase is The Living Bible (not to be confused with the New Living Translation, which is truly a translation in the functional-equivalence camp).

My opinion toward paraphrases is similar to my opinion on the one-man translation. They can be interesting to read, but they should never be used as your primary “Bible”.

When choosing a Bible, much better to read the words of God than the words of man. Choose a translation (not a one-man translation or a paraphrase.)


A Case for Functional Equivalence (Choosing a Bible, Part 2b)

Being a cerebral sort with a high reading level and general affinity for both grammar and poetry, I gravitate towards translations that use formal equivalence. Many in my family do the same, for similar reasons (we’re rather a nerdy family with quite a few high “T” people.)

When my dad switched from the formal equivalent NASB to the functional equivalent TNIV, it sent shockwaves through the family. We would never have guessed, Dad being the most “T” of us all.

But Dad had a compelling case to make for his switch. He had been convinced after reading Gordon Fee’s How to Read the Bible for all it’s worth that the vocabulary and syntax of formal equivalence is a stumbling block that stands in the way of clear evangelistic presentation of the gospel. Apparently, Fee argues that believers who use formal equivalence for their daily reading, study, and preaching–even if they paraphrase Scripture–will still tend to use the same awkward language style in their presentation of the gospel, alienating their a-religious audience in the process.

This seems a bit far-fetched to someone who has grown up speaking of the “Grace of God” and “fear of God”, who is used to thinking of some people or things as “Bless-ed”, and who understands the word “begotten.” But to the average a-religious individual, those figures or speech and ways of expressing oneself are as foreign as if someone had come to me speaking in the Thees and Thous and sinneths of the KJV. I can understand the language of the KJV, but it is certainly not my language of fluency–and the use of thees and thous and sinneths in a message would distract me from the message. In the same way, these ways of speaking which I find so familiar are unfamiliar and distracting to the a-religious.

It’s a compelling argument-probably the most compelling I’ve ever heard–for the use of functional equivalence. Certainly, I can see the utility of a translation using functional equivalence for a seeker’s study or for a new believer’s personal devotional life. The idea that we speak what we read also makes a case for why mature believers might want to read and memorize from translations that use functional equivalence.

I haven’t switched to functional equivalence myself, but hearing my dad’s argument has forced me to rethink my evaluation of other people’s translational choices.

I am inclined to ascribe laziness to users of functional equivalence. This argument reminds me that their motivation might actually be love.

I say scholarship leads me to use formal equivalence. This argument reminds me that my motivation may actually be pride.


The Jump

When the time came for the actual jump, I didn’t have opportunity to be terrified.

I had to get on my knees, and let my butt scootch between my knees so the instructor would have enough room to get on top of me and get himself (and the chute) attached.

Preparing to jump

I felt tugs and clicks as one attachment point after the other connected.

Now my butt needed to come up a bit, the instructor couldn’t get close enough to tether us together.

I tried to obey, lifting my bottom infinitesmely–but I guess it was enough. We were connected.

Bent elbow preparing to jump

Now I needed to swing my right leg out onto the ledge.

In ground practice, I’d been the only one of the girls who’d made it all the way to the ledge on the first try. Everyone else’s legs were too short to easily traverse the distance.

In the air, it was completely different. I swung my leg out and the air caught it, pulling it beyond the ledge.

I used all my strength to lift my foot above the ledge and move it forward to a secure resting point.

Grabbing my straps

The tap came to my left shoulder.

It was time for me to grab a strut and then dip down onto my left elbow so the instructor could get himself out through the doorframe.

He tapped my shoulder again, reminding me to let go of the strut.

I was falling. He was falling right behind me. Except not behind me. With me.

I had no fear.

The jump

No fear at all.


Married before You’re Able

Everyone has different ideas about the ideal time to marry.

I’ve heard numbers as diverse as 18 and 33.

My answer will somewhat vary.

I think that depends on the relative ages of those intending to marry.

I have already invented a keen equation for determining one’s marriagable range–and now I’ve created a variation on the same theme. A calculator to determine the date at which any pair can first marry.

Simply enter the elder’s date of birth in the first line and the younger’s date of birth in the second. Press the “calculate” button and there you have it.

Older Date of Birth (MM/DD/YYYY): /
/
Younger Date of Birth (MM/DD/YYYY): /
/
Earliest Wedding Date:

When I was growing up, if any of us children sang at the table, we’d be admonished with my grandpa’s words–

“If you sing at the table, you’ll be married before you’re able”

This was a puzzle to all of us, since we couldn’t figure out how one could get married if they weren’t able to get married.

But, according to this little calculator, one could (legally) get married before one was able (mathematically).

So…tell me, were you married before you were able?

When did you get married–and when was the first date you and your spouse were “able” to marry?


For the record, once we children reached a certain age, this particular “threat” (of marrying before we were able) became more of an incentive for singing at the table.


WiW: Athens as seen through Jerusalem

The Week in Words

Generally, my Week in Words posts include musings on something I’ve read in the past week. They’re often a sort of personal essay based on the theme found within the quotes.

This week, I’m bucking the trend with a little teaser:

“…The West was built on two pillars: Athens and Jerusalem. By Athens I mean classical civilization, the civilization of Greece and pre-Christian Rome. By Jerusalem I mean Judaism and Christianity. Of these two, Jerusalem is more important.

The Athens we know and love is not Athens as it really was, but rather Athens as seen through the eyes of Jerusalem.

~Dinesh D’Souza, What’s So Great About Christianity?

I’d been a week without books since my books were due on the skydiving weekend (and I didn’t have time to BOTH skydive and get library books from Lincoln.)

So I took a trip into Lincoln to take care of a number of errands. I’d already done my necessary shopping, I’d dropped off some stuff for my niece and spent some time with my sister-in-law, I’d visited with my little sister a bit. Now I had only to visit the library before I had to get back into town for Anna’s party at 7.

I’d be cutting it close, I knew, rolling into the library at 4:15 when I had to drive an hour and a half to be back to Columbus in time for the party.

I’ve never done a full-restocking library trip in less than an hour and a half before.

But I was confident that I could do it. I would do it.

I checked my phone for the time and saw that Anna had texted asking what time we intended to get back into Columbus. I told her seven.

“You do realize the party’s at 6?”

She wasn’t kidding. I checked.

I now had fifteen minutes in which to do my library visit.

I ran like a madwoman, picking up adult books while my little sis grabbed the next fifty children’s picture books and 25 CDs for me. I checked out 115 books after a fifteen minute dash through the library.

Needless to say, I didn’t really spend a lot of time learning about what I was checking out. I picked up Dinesh D’Souza’s defense of Christianity against today’s New Atheists because it was available, not because I was particularly interested in it (or even had any idea what was found within.)

Reading the back cover after I got home didn’t grab me either, but I started reading anyway.

The first few chapters, which outlined the New Atheism’s present assault on Christianity, were interesting, but not phenomenal. But this quote, found in chapter 5, has piqued my interest for more.

“The Athens we know and love is not Athens as it really was, but rather Athens as seen through the eyes of Jerusalem.”

What does the real Athens look like? I wonder.

How has Christianity shaped our view of Athens? I want to know.

Tell me more, I beg the author. And I read on.

I’ll have to let you know what I find out–but I wonder, has this piqued your interest too?

Don’t forget to take a look at Barbara H’s meme “The Week in Words”, where bloggers collect quotes they’ve read throughout the week.


Form or function? (Choosing a Bible, Part 2)

When discussing philosophies of Biblical translations, there are two main classifications: formal equivalence and functional equivalence.

Formal equivalence attempts to maintain the “form” of the original language inasmuch as possible. This can also be described as a word-for-word translation (although that descriptor isn’t always technically accurate.)

Functional equivalence attempts to maintain the “function” of the original language inasmuch as possible. This can be described as a thought-for-thought translation. Functional equivalence is also sometimes termed “dynamic equivalence.”

The following chart summarizes a few of the differences between formal and functional equivalence in translation:

Formal Equivalence Functional Equivalence
Word-for-word Thought-for-thought
Words more “true to original” Tone more “true to original”
Syntax often more awkward Syntax often more natural
Generally higher reading level Generally lower reading level
Examples: NKJV, NASB, ESV Examples: NIV, TNIV, NLT

Why you should choose to use formal equivalence:

  • Lends itself well to deep personal study and rich word studies
  • Less opportunity for interpretation in translation
  • Generally uses more traditional terminology
  • May be more “poetic” (“Grace of God” rather than “God’s grace”)

Why you should not choose to use formal equivalence:

  • We’re not all scholars (especially not of Greek and Hebrew)
  • We’re not all readers (and formal equivalence does require more work to read and understand)

Why you should choose to use functional equivalence:

  • Easily read and understood
  • Lends itself well to devotional and evangelistic reading
  • Better captures tone of the original (which, since we aren’t all scholars, we might not be able to understand from a formal equivalence translation)

Why you should not choose to use functional equivalence:

  • It’s worthwhile to stretch our minds in the study of the Bible
  • The text is more likely to contain interpretation by the translator

Ultimately, both formal and functional equivalence can be useful modes for Bible translation–and are acceptable for use. I think it would benefit most believers to have at least one translation from each camp. Which type any given individual uses routinely and which type one uses as a reference probably varies a great deal based on one’s personal inclination towards cerebral or psychosocial expression. (Whether one is a “thinker” or a “feeler”, to use Myers-Briggs typology.)