Twice, I have had conversations with people who have lost spouses and have marvelled over how ‘clean’ the parting was. Each one was sudden, traumatic and painful for those left behind but, without a doubt, a goodbye free of the sorrows that come from far more than just the loss of a loved one. No words unspoken, no actions withheld, no secrets. What a blessing to say, amidst fierce grieving, that you loved and were loved in return, the slate was clean, the days were lived to the full and the river of love was not muddied. No regrets woven in and growing like mould.
It got me thinking that clean living is the best way to go about clean dying.
It’s no good looking all shiny on the outside like a bright, red apple if there is a worm on the inside. Man sees the outward appearance, but the Lord sees the heart (1 Samuel 16 v 7). What’s on the inside has an incredible knack of coming out, and it’s what comes from inside that defiles us (Mark 7 v 20)
Is our speech free of gossip, cursing and slander? And our thoughts – would it be okay if they were displayed across a public screen for all the world to see? I remember hearing once that thoughts are like birds flying overhead; we can’t do much about where they fly, but we can stop them from making nests in our hair.
We were at the market buying honey, fruit, vegetables and gifts when I spotted someone I know stirring the contents of a big pot. In a place filled with decadent baked goods and fresh breads (things I love eating!) I cannot tell you what my heart did as I peered into that pot. Bone broth; food for the soul as much as for the body. Mushrooms, baby potatoes, red pepper and courgettes all bobbed around in the liquid gold like happy, rather plump great aunts in the Dead Sea. I bought a tall cup full of that goodness on the spot.
I didn’t think any of the children would want to eat anything so undisguised, and so I sipped and spooned out vegetables, content as a kitten drinking it’s mother’s milk in a beam of sunshine. One by one they asked to taste, and it was reverse psychology at its best. They smacked their lips, asked for more and agreed that this was something special. One child said it tasted so good for something that looked so nasty.
We got home and I, immediately, began to make our very own bone broth. What I had seen and tasted earlier in the day had sold itself. It was not empty calories promising a spike in blood sugar with zero lasting sustenance. Too long I’ve found myself in the kitchen late at night, hoping I might find a stash of sugar somewhere, eating for all the wrong reasons. It hasn’t benefited me in the slightest. That pot at the market symbolised all that was clean, simple and hearty and I wanted it for myself.
I chopped and diced the veg whilst the bones simmered and I thought about cleaning up my act and making better choices: clean eating as well as clean living.
I want to feast on thoughts that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy, (Philippians 4 v 8) hold my tongue and take note on what is coming out of me even as I take greater care about what I put into me.
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