How Much Food is Enough?

Who knew I could actually survive a week without dark chocolate? My go to snack in the middle of the morning, afternoon and night has become a handful of mixed nuts, not quite as savory, but it staves off the hunger when one feels munchy.

But, let me back up a bit. It’s my first week participating in the study by Jen Hatmaker, The 7 Experiment, Staging Your Own Mutiny Against Excess. As students we are challenged to do in 7 weeks what she and her husband spent 7 months doing, a week on each area of excess: food, clothes, spending, waste, possessions, media and stress. I can’t even imagine a month of fasting in each area. The truth is that as American Christians we have way more than we need and yet still want more. While many die of hunger, we are growing obese. While many have little to wear, our closets are bursting. It’s not okay that 1.5 million children die from hunger each year, and 20,864 people will die from hunger today when we have more than enough food for everyone on the planet. (www.statisticbrain.com/world-hunger-statistics/)

And, lest you think this study is some sort of guilt trip encouraging one to go and sell everything, let me assure you it’s not. I can’t help that I was born in America, the land of plenty, but I can use the resources with which I’ve been blessed to make a difference. Jen encourages us to be open to however God would desire us to act as a result of fasting. She advises us not to become legalistic and compare our degrees of fasting with one another to see if we come up short or ahead. Fasting looks different for everyone; God will move in each person’s life in unique ways. The point is to just do it, focusing on our own hearts.

If you think about it, our lifestyles revolve around food. When we complete one meal, we begin pondering when and what the next will be. Visiting the grocery store is often a multi-weekly occasion. Endless aisles of food offer a plethora of choices, most of them not super-de-dooper healthy. Events, parties, outings revolve around eating. We often search for something quick to microwave before we run our children to soccer, basketball or gymnastics practice. Our kids snack on granola bars, fruit snacks and pop tarts (at least my children do).  Our snack choices aren’t much better. It’s much easier to grab a bar than cut fruit and vegetables.

In the original 7 fast, the Hatmakers chose 7 foods to eat for one month. Can anyone say coffee and chocolate?! Ok, so one should pick healthy foods. However, Jen offers a variety of other ways to fast, so I chose to abstain from fast food and unprocessed foods for a week. It’s day 6, and I’m still alive. Have you ever thought about how much canned, boxed, frozen food we consume? When I look in the refrigerator and cupboards and start checking off items I can’t devour, I’m flabbergasted. No soup, mac n cheese, processed meat, or cereal. No popcorn, chips, chocolate, granola bars or ice cream. Out of over 300 items in my kitchen, clearly excessive, I’ve resorted to the basics of God’s creation: fruit, veggies, chicken. Simple, yet hard. Healthy, yet time consuming.

What I have learned:

Our family eats a lot of crap. My youngest asked if kids in third world countries eat a lot of processed food. Gee, I think not, I told her. They don’t even have enough real food, much less the junk that lines our grocery store shelves. While I don’t have statistics to prove it, that’s my guess.

I can make healthier meals. For the most part, I’ve tried to provide a balanced diet. Still, I’m so guilty for resorting to the quick fixes when my brain tires of planning vitamin packed meals displaying all the colors. Cooking is something I do out of necessity and duty instead of love, so the less time in the kitchen, the happier I am. Give me a bowl of Captain Crunch or Cocoa Puffs for dinner, and life is good. The family, however, is not so appreciative of that wimpy attempt at a meal. This week, I researched recipes not involving cans, boxes or mixes and came up with Garlic Spinach and Italian Kale. Broil some chicken breasts flavored with salt and garlic pepper only and cut up a mixture of fruit and voila, a tasty meal.

I don’t need over 300 food items in my kitchen. I have this thing about certain food items. I must never ever be depleted of mayonnaise, eggs, milk or chocolate milk. When I grocery shop, I buy more just.in.case. At one time, I had 3 mayonnaise jars waiting in the wings. Ridiculous, right? I didn’t even grow up in poverty, so what sort of insecurity is this? Don’t even get me going about my couponing and buying a bajillion boxes of fruit snacks because they are on sale and I have coupons! Doesn’t make much sense when we’ve down-sized to one child at home. My husband and I don’t even eat those things ‘cause they’re not ‘healthy’.

Around the world, people are still hungry, but I can do something about it. Living in America makes me feel far removed from those hungering in third world countries. Since they aren’t right in front of me, I live in my four walls oblivious to the need. Yet, there is a way we can all help through an organization called www.kiva.org. A microlending institution, it offers loans through people like you and me to groups and individuals all over the world to help them start- up businesses so they can provide food for their families. These loans have a high percentage rate of repayment and the money can then be recycled to another person or group in need. This is a fabulous way to help those who can’t find the capital to support themselves or their families. If I lowered my grocery bill by a mere $25 and loaned that money to someone on the Kiva website, I could impact a child’s future. A person’s life could be transformed by my actions to reduce excessiveness. What a sobering thought!

Here’s your challenge: count the boxes, cans, mixes and bags of stuff filling your shelves. I stopped counting at 300 because it was already just ridiculous. Be utterly amazed at your tally. Pray about doing some type of fast. Most certainly pray about how God might want you to help locally or through an organization like Kiva. But, do something!

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was

thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was

a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes

and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after

me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Matthew 25:35-36

New York City Makeover

Pinky, Reesie, La La, Noica—these are some of the names of women my daughter,  Alix and I encountered last week in a New York City women’s shelter. Women broken by life and some by husbands. Women mentally ill in some cases. A group of 55 women traveled from Indiana to share the love of Jesus by washing dirty feet, massaging stressed hands, helping them choose a new outfit, styling straggly hair and putting makeup on tired faces and seeing smiles brighten once dark countenances.  As we encouraged this women with the words, “God loves you; you are valuable to Him,” we viewed visible changes. Shuffled feet became springy steps. Loud laughter replaced angry words. God visited this place where broken down, discarded women live. 

What did I learn on this trip to beautify women who feel ugly and unnoticed?

1.      Makeovers can change a person from the outside in. When you feel ugly, you act ugly. It works the same in my own life.  The day I throw on my shabby sweats and glasses sans makeup to make a quick trip to the grocery is one in which I prefer to remain incognito. Slink in and slink out because I’m feeling unkempt. These women, however, experience day upon day feeling forgotten and frumpy.  As ladies bounced from station to station, whether choosing a new outfit or sitting for someone to apply their makeup, a visible transformation like Cinderella emerging from her cinder-stained face and garments took place. Worn out, lackluster women began to believe the words each station worker voiced. “You are beautiful to Jesus; He loves you; you are not trash.”  

2.      Even homeless women desire to be heard and touched. I caressed hands and paid attention to some who had lost their identity, values and families. I listened to women speak with foreign accents and others mentally bewildered with stories a mile long. While tragic circumstances and even poor decisions had landed them in this place, my purpose lay in feeling their pain, hearing their cries and conveying that God sees them and knows their names.

3.      God doesn’t want me to be comfortable. It’s scary to step out of your comfort zone and do something you’ve never done before. Yet when I feel unqualified, He promises to equip me; I just need to be willing and available. Fear can hold us back from doing things God wants to do in and through us to impact the world around us. It’s the first step that’s the scariest! As I began to massage the first hand, heart thumping in my chest, I felt completely lost. Thoughts swirled in my brain, “What can I say that would make a difference to this wounded woman? How do I help and encourage her?” I jumped in with both feet, like Peter jumping out of the boat to walk on water to Jesus, and each conversation became easier and more comfortable, as God gave me His words and His strength.

4.      Serving brings great joy. By the end of the day, I was tired and spent, yet filled with joy because God had used me, in spite of all my fears and feelings of inadequacy. Not only had the women’s spirits brought me delight because of their physical transformations, but also the simple act of pouring out spilled gladness everywhere. Excitement and laughter filled the room as women departed in joyful thankfulness. The act of serving blessed me far more than it did these women.

5.      God is in the transformation business, not me. The word says, “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord Almighty.” (Zechariah 4:6) My job this particular weekend was not to judge these women or force and cajole them to be different. Too often, I try to manipulate others through guilt trips or other methods. During this experience, my role was to listen, love and pray for these women and allow the Holy Spirit to work on their hearts. After all, Jesus is the only one who can create a clean heart in anyone. How freeing it is to know that someone’s transformation is not up to me yet realize that I have a vital part in relaying the message of love and everlasting life to those living in dark and desperate circumstances.

Perhaps this last lesson hit me the hardest as I reflect on the way I treat my family, my friends and others I encounter daily. My micro-managing and manipulation of others is ineffective and a poor substitute for the mighty power of God to change a life completely.  I am to be a vessel God can use, a conduit of His love and grace to those around me, so they can infected with His Spirit. In my willingness for God to work in and through me to impact my children, my church, my community, I pray that God pours out His Spirit in magnanimous ways, that I am not a hindrance to the work He wants to do in someone’s life, and most of all, that I always give God the glory for the changes that occur!

Being Holy

A few weeks ago, a group of women were examining the topic of “holiness” in our study, The Fitting Room, by Kelly Minter. This word drums up all sorts of images in our minds. Some picture monks or nuns in their holy habits, the Amish who have separated themselves from the rest of society, some super spiritual saint, or perhaps a legalistic upbringing. This word doesn’t fill us with the warm fuzzies like “love”, “joy”, or “peace”. In fact in our discussion, one woman commented, “I struggle with a word that means “set apart”. It’s like I think I’m better than everyone else.”  And yet, God tells us to be holy as he is holy (1 Peter 1:16). What exactly does God mean by that, and how can we possibly achieve it?

Unpacking this word is like unloading a moving van filled with trinkets and treasures collected for years. I’m not sure if any person can comprehensively grasp the concept of holiness. However, within the framework of the verses our class is dissecting in this particular study, I’m posing a few thoughts.

Colossians 3:12 states, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

The first words Paul writes before he tells us what clothes to wear are that we are chosen, holy and dearly loved. God calls us holy before we have done anything good. How is that possible? I know what I am capable of—crabby attitudes, corrupted actions and careless words. How does God call me holy when I’ve done nothing to deserve that designation?  It’s only because of Jesus’ sacrifice for my sins on the cross that I am viewed holy. Trusting my own goodness to please God is like a student relying on his charismatic personality to pass a test. It’s not good enough and never will be. According to Isaiah 64:6, “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.”

Kelly Minter says, “Without this imputed righteousness (God thinking of Christ’s righteousness as belonging to us), we are back to the concept of trying to clothe ourselves with clothes we don’t actually own. Righteousness isn’t something you can borrow either, just for the thrifty dressers out there.” How freeing to realize that God calls me holy not because I deserve it but because His son paid the price for me. The world teaches us the opposite—if we prove ourselves through hard work, we can be someone special. God says you are already special because of my son, therefore clothe yourselves with what you already possess. Unfortunately, we oftentimes attempt to achieve holiness by mustering up enough willpower to exhibit these virtues rather than realizing that we are incapable of justifying ourselves. We must rest upon Jesus’ finished work on the cross.

Holiness concerns our heart not behavior modification. Parents desire their children to listen and obey because they desire to obey, not because they are forced. I recall as a young girl my mom making me apologize to my sister or brother. “Say you’re sorry, Annette,” she’d say.

“Sorry,” I’d mumble.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for hitting you,” I’d eke out to the offended.

Truly heartfelt, right?! How many of us apologized in our youth to our sister or brother because our moms threatened to ground us for a month, take away phone privileges or friend play time? And, how many of us as parents do the very same thing? Say you’re sorry, give the toy back, hug your sister, kiss and make up… God longs for us to exhibit His attributes because our hearts are transformed.  Behavior change doesn’t last unless there is heart change. Kelly Minter emphatically says, “…how I yearn to live altogether differently, not simply because I’ve learned how to manage my behavior but because God has changed me from the inside. And because I desperately desire to draw others to Jesus by a life that is distinctly bright and whole, because He has made it so.”

Our holiness, then, should draw others to Jesus not cause us to be uppity or snobbish. True holiness is not setting ourselves against or above others as my friend was concerned about. D.L. Moody stated, “A holy life will produce the deepest impression. Lighthouses blow no horns; they only shine.” We should be winsome women, attracting others to us like bees to pollen. Instead of judging, condemning and criticizing unbelievers who, incidentally, cannot be held accountable to live godly lives, we should live and love in such a way that they are drawn to the Savior.

As we are holy and wear clothes that reflect who we are in Christ, may those around us find love and grace.  May we be the kind of women who walk alongside those who are desperate, depressed and downtrodden. And, may we never portray ourselves as snooty or snobby or stuck up, but rather saved by His grace, made holy only because of Jesus.

Go light your world!

Kathy Troccoli-Go Light Your World

A London Encounter

Crowded with people scurrying to catch a train, tube or trek into the city, London’s Victoria Station is a hub bub of activity. Suits speeding to their offices, confused travelers with eyes glued to maps (that’s us), shoppers browsing the stores, they are like ants on a mission. When we arrived via London Heathrow Airport, disoriented Americans dragging heavy pieces of luggage through the mob, we couldn’t conceive the God encounter that would transform us the final night of our journey.

Irish sheep-Ring of Kerry



To celebrate my parent’s 50^th wedding anniversary, the four of us spent a week in Ireland with its 40 shades of green, rolling hills dotted with sheep and cows and lovely people with harmonious accents I could listen to for the rest of my days. We traded the calm and serene for crowds and chaos when we transported to London, circling four days in a whirlwind across the city. Hitting the must see sights, we toured St. Paul’s Cathedral, Tower of London, Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace. A bit consumed with British history and obsessed with kings, queens and castles, I’m slightly disappointed I wasn’t born a royal. Still, the defining moment of this trip brought home to me what is truly valuable. It’s not palaces and princesses, crown jewels or coronations, royalty or robes.



Wall to wall people in London



The night before we were scheduled to fly back home again to Indiana, my dad and mom, Tony and I dined at a restaurant on the third floor of Victoria Station. In honor of our last night in London, Mom ordered the traditional English fish and chips with mashed peas. Mashed peas paired with fish and chips makes as much sense to me as tennis shoes with a black cocktail dress. For me, peas of any sort belong with the tea thrown overboard in Boston Harbor. The rest of us chose to eat more appetizing fare—pizza!  As we were finishing our meal, a British man interrupted our conversation through the booth’s window cutout open to the mall. His clothes were worn and all he carried was a small bag containing a few items. “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt you, but could you spare any change?” he said.

Mom, an extrovert on steroids, responded, “What do you need money for?”

“Ma’am, I’d like to get something sweet.”

Mom asked, “Are you hungry?”

Stunned by a question the stranger has likely never been asked, he paused and then answered. “Why, yes, I am.”

Blasting the bewildered man with questions about what he’d like to order, mom took charge of the situation while the rest of us remained silent watching this interchange.  He settled on the pizza and a coke. Smart to skip the mashed peas, like us. Mom then asked the man if he’d rather eat his food in the restaurant or take it to go.

 “I’ll take it with me, ma’am.”

“Well, why don’t you come in and sit in one of the booths, and we’ll talk to the waitress about your food.”

The homeless man plodded into the restaurant and plopped down into one of the booths. He wore weariness. No sigh escaped his lips, but I could sense it. Tired, hungry and all he asked for was a few pence for something sweet, as if that would satisfy the hunger pains. His head hung low as if some invisible weight were holding it down. Awkward silence reigned at our table. It seemed sacrilegious to continue casual conversation. A man hungered while we feasted—while I spurned mashed peas.  My eyes blurred as I blinked back tears threatening as I watched this worn out creature. And yet, here we sat, part of a divine interaction, our resources covering this man’s need.

After the waitress brought his to-go food, the man slowly rose and plodded back to the window cutout. “I don’t mean to bother you again, but thank you.”

Mom said, “God bless you.” The man replied the same and disappeared into the mall to fill his stomach. 

I confess that had my parents been absent, my response would’ve been different. This homeless man would’ve been an inconvenience on my vacation. Perhaps I might’ve thrown a few pence his way in hopes of hurrying him along.  I doubt I would’ve have offered him food or drink.  And yet, Jesus said, “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in…” (Matthew 25:35)  

Too often, I am quick to judge, criticize, and wonder whether my gift to someone in need will be misused. I ignore the prompting to offer what I have because I am too busy sizing up the situation. Is this person worth it? How many opportunities to be God’s hands and feet have I missed because of the huge log in my eye?  I’m like the Pharisees, focusing on the outside of the cup instead of the inside of my heart.  When I am compelled to give, I should act quickly without censure, condemnation or calculation of a person’s need or value. Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40) What happens to my gift offered with love and grace is not my concern. Ignoring the call to give, however, is not only disobedience but also a missed opportunity to be part of someone’s transformation.

I don’t know the far-reaching effects of this London encounter. Perhaps the meal offered this homeless London man gave him renewed hope that someone cared. Maybe this event witnessed by the waitress sparked an attitude of love and giving. If each told their friends, how might they be changed because of one meal given in Jesus’ name? I only know that I don’t want to remain complacent, stay blinded or become calloused to those in need around me. I ask not only for God to open my eyes but also to instill in me a willingness to give without strings. A meal, a $20 bill, a shirt, a cup of coffee has the power to change a life. After all, a meal in London changed mine!