I love our church family. I’m blessed to know them and study the word of God alongside them. Since we started attending our church a couple years ago, I look forward to going to church more than at any other time in my life.

But when I got serious about changing my eating habits in late 2017, church posed a big and unexpected challenge.

At that time, I was early in the process of changing my eating behaviors. I was cutting back on foods that I tend to overeat (like refined carbs). I was trying to stop “grazing” and eating opportunistically — like when you walk past a plate of brownies and eat one just because they’re there. I was learning to be deliberate about every food choice and stop compromising my health for the sake of convenience.

To further complicate matters, I had adopted a ketogenic way of eating. Thus, potluck dinners became my sworn enemy.

If you don’t know, a “potluck” is a meal where everyone brings something to share. Think room full of casseroles. They’re all wonderful and totally off-limits to ketogenic eaters. (Have you ever encountered a low-carb casserole worth eating, let alone sharing with your friends? Cauliflower is only so versatile.)

Initially, I just tried to avoid food-related events altogether for the sake of simplicity, but that wasn’t really an option long-term. For one thing, every single event at our church was connected to food in some way. More to the point, having a healthy relationship with food means being able to say “no” to the wrong things and “yes” to the right things, regardless of the circumstances, and I had to figure it out sooner or later. Church ended up being a great place to practice. First, I needed some coping strategies.

A great verse to commit to memory for moments like these is 1 Corinthians 10:13:

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way to escape, that you may be able to endure it.

So yes, you’ll be tempted, but God provides escape hatches. Here are a few that worked for me:

  • Just don’t eat anything. Your stomach may growl but you will not die. I promise. I have done it. It’ll be OK. Consider it an opportunity to practice self-control. In the same way the workouts I struggled through helped me realize what I was physically capable of, being surrounded for hours by food I couldn’t eat helped me realize I didn’t have to indulge every stomach growl in order to survive. Doing hard things makes us stronger.
  • Mingle like a boss. Keep moving and nobody will notice you’re not eating. Or you can at least outrun them before they ask you too many questions.
  • Keep a bottle of water in your hand at all times. Drinking water helps with hunger. Often what we think are hunger pangs are actually thirst cues. Plus, it’s somehow less awkward than being empty-handed.
  • Spend some time researching at least one (maybe two or three) shareable dishes that mesh with your eating plan, and bring it to every potluck. If you can’t cook, bring a veggie tray or green salad (hint: this also works for family dinners). Granted, this gets a little tricky when the theme of the event is “dessert bar.” But it’s not impossible (hint: take berries or fresh fruit).
  • Be honest with people about what you’re working on. You might be surprised at their compassion. Case in point: the first church food event I actually decided to go to was our church’s Valentine’s Day Married Couples’ Dinner. My husband and I wanted to support the marriage ministry and it sounded like fun. I talked to my friend who headed up the event ahead of time so I could figure out a food strategy, and she surprised me by telling me they’d chosen a Mexican theme. Turns out, I’d mentioned in passing that Mexican was one of the few food types it was pretty easy to fit into my eating plan, and she’d made a mental note of it. I could have hugged her. I think I did, in fact. Like I said, I love my church family.
  • If you can’t hang out at the potluck or fellowship dinner without caving or looking miserable, don’t go. The idea isn’t to draw attention to yourself, solicit pity or position yourself as some towering beacon of stoicism. It’s OK to just remove yourself from a situation that’s tough to handle. Walking away is a legitimate coping strategy.
  • Find ways to fellowship that don’t center around food. If your church doesn’t have any, start one. Meet up with a peer group to go for a walk during lunch hour. Gather on a Saturday for a hike (picnic lunch not required). Start a book club. Or start a Bible study for other people who are seeking victory over weight issues — they won’t mind if there are no snacks.
  • Don’t take yourself too seriously. Your decision to change your eating habits isn’t anybody else’s ethical dilemma. Food and eating decisions are personal and very subjective. My choice to adopt a ketogenic way of eating isn’t superior or inferior to my mom’s choice to follow Weight Watchers, my husband’s heart-friendly eating choices, or my friend’s seemingly superhuman ability to achieve moderation in all things just on her own. But we’re human and pride can edge into the conversation if we’re not careful. Do your best to be humble, obedient and prayerful and leave the rest up to God.

This isn’t an all-encompassing list, but these are the things that have worked for me over the last year or so. Whatever you do, think about your game plan ahead of time. That way, it’ll be easier to put into play when the time comes.

I’d love to hear your suggestions in the Comments, because it’s an ongoing challenge for me to figure out how to navigate these events gracefully.

If you’re reading this and you know someone else in your church family who is struggling through their own battle with food, obesity or health, I humbly challenge you to pray about how you might support them in their struggle. Feel free to share this post with them if it could help. Beyond that, whether it’s an encouraging word, a well-timed hug,  a pint of heavy whipping cream for the #keto among you, or just skipping the snacks one Sunday, your support matters more than you know.

Thanks, church family.

 

 

Published by Amy McDonald

My earliest memories are of grace and pencils. I have been obsessed with writing implements from the age of 2, when I insisted upon carrying a pencil in one arm and a baby doll named Susie Q in the other. My love of writing began almost as early -- awkwardly penned Mother's Day poems and love notes to my Grandpa eventually blossomed into short stories and A+ essays and a bachelor's egree in journalism. I spent the next 20 years in public relations, writing for other people -- putting a leader's vision on paper, helping engineers sound simple, and explaining the reasons companies do what they do. Along the way, I all but forgot to write for myself. My own voice surfaced only in times of heartbreak and loss -- an obituary for my Grandpa, a farewell to my first love, and a good bit of bad poetry. I can do better. That's where grace comes in. God's grace was made known to me back in the time of pencils, before PCs and keyboards and devices smarter than I am. His grace saves, forgives, atones, provides, waits patiently, and embraces all over again. His grace gives me purpose worth writing about. Not my voice, but Thine.

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