Nutritional Gatekeeping

As an '80s kid, '90s teenager, I ate Captain Crunch and Fruit Loops, every candy you can think of, Little Debbies, Fruit Roll-Ups, a butt-load of pizza, and drank gallons of pop.

I also ate fruits and vegetables, and most of my meals were homecooked. Like Swiss steak and mashed potatoes. Chili. Beef vegetable soup. Stuffed peppers. Deviled eggs. Pickled eggs and beets. And occasionally, liver and onions and chicken gizzards.

In the kitchen, I watched my mom create. She welcomed me to stir and smell her chili, steadied my hand as she spooned flour into my measuring cup, and guided my knife as we sliced apples and carrots. I’m sure she gave me tasks that strategically moved me, and sometimes she simply asked me to go play, but I never remember feeling like I was in her way.

She took me to the grocery store.

We didn’t rush.

We parked the cart in the aisles and talked to people.

I knew our produce man’s name.

I knew the family who processed the meat at our small-town butcher shop. And every time we drove by the processing station near the rear entrance, I was reminded meat didn’t randomly jump into that white paper wrapped package.

Not only could my mom cook, but she also baked delicious cheesecakes and carrot cakes and was a blue-ribbon candymaker. My appetite rivaled that of most boys, so I’m glad there were boundaries and limitations. We didn’t eat desert often. When we did, it was for a special occasion, or it was a custard dish of pudding or Jello. And, in the evenings, there was a cut-off from pretzels and popcorn.

When I was a teenager, I saw my family’s nutrition shift when my parents traveled west for business and brought back healthier food ideas from the restaurants where they had eaten.

Mom replaced iceberg lettuce with field greens and multiple nights of ice cream with Greek yogurt or frozen blueberries. As we added more flavors to our plates, our palates expanded, but our waistlines did not.

My mom continually asked, “What’s healthy?” read labels, adapted, and put thought into how she cared for our family. I’m thankful she allowed me to experience a broad range of foods and to have had her as my nutritional gatekeeper, that she took what she learned from her parents and from self-studying and passed it along to me.

As an adult, I’ve strived to follow her ways. Even so, as a young wife and trainer, I strayed from healthy roots. Money was tight as I worked commission-only jobs and helped my husband build our business. Dinner often consisted of grocery store markdowns, conventional meat, dollar packs of instant potatoes, or pizza that we bought with coupons.

Thank God we had food, but I allowed a limited bank account—and a limited perspective—to dictate the quality of our nutrition.

I knew that, in the long run, cheap food would lead to expensive consequences, and that I couldn’t keep advising my clients to eat healthier than I did.

That’s when a speaker at a health conference hit me with something that would forever transform my eating.

“You are a nutritional gatekeeper,” she said.

Gatekeeper?

I scooted up in my chair.

A gatekeeper is “one who tends or guards a gate, someone who controls access.”

In Biblical times, gatekeepers were protectors. They were trustworthy and alert for signs of trouble. If a gatekeeper let his guard down, he could bring ruin upon a civilization.

In 1 Chronicles 9:29, gatekeepers were assigned to guard “the flour and wine, and the olive oil, incense and spices.”

That conference was about more than healthy eating. It was a turning point of a newfound mission. By becoming a nutritional gatekeeper, I could regain power over my choices and future health. I didn’t need a certification or anyone’s permission. I could simply decide to be in charge.

I didn’t exactly know how I’d do it, but I immediately tacked the title to my heart as an invisible badge of honor and returned to the memories of my grandparents’ garden and my mom’s simmering pots of chili.

Becoming a nutritional gatekeeper wasn’t only the decision to walk-the-walk as someone who coached nutrition, but also to safeguard my and my family’s health. Although I had a capable husband who cooked and grocery shopped when needed (and still does), food and cooking were my wheelhouse.

It was my responsibility to guard what I brought into our home and what we put into our mouths.

This does not mean I changed everything at once. I didn’t even change everything in a year. It’s taken decades and is an ongoing process that has put me back in touch with our food system and other people. It also doesn’t mean that I do it alone.

After that health conference, my husband and I prioritized food. We cooked at home instead of eating out or going to the movies, and we pushed off buying new clothes because we’d rather eat well than dress well.

Our prioritizing led to the desire to learn more.

After we watched the documentary Food, Inc., we switched from conventional to natural meat and, when our funds allowed, organic. We also bought produce following the “Clean Fifteen” and “Dirty Dozen” lists, until we could eventually buy all organic.

The more we learned how our food was made, the more it mattered with whom we spent our money and what we put into our bodies.

The more processed foods we cut out and replaced with whole foods, we realized we saved money. The grocery store’s yellow sale tag no longer dictated my every purchase.

These changes had lasting impact. Mastering small stuff allowed us to create permanent habits and delve deeper into food health.

Today, nutritional gatekeeping is one of my most important responsibilities as a wife and mother. In a world where we’ve gotten far away from knowing where our food comes from, I’ll do everything I can not to be duped into feeding my family only God knows what at the expense of our health.

I’m learning to involve my son like my mom involved me. In the kitchen, sometimes, I tell him, “Go play,” but more often, I let him sniff the spices, taste cilantro and buttermilk, and I hold his hand steady as we measure water. At the grocery store, he crosses off items on my list. He talks to our produce man, “Mike.” And he pets baby goats at our milk and meat farms.

I want him to know spearmint is a plant, not gum, ketchup is made from tomatoes, and treating animals well matters, especially when we consume them. That when we worship God, He will bless our food and water and take away sickness from amongst us (Exodus 23:25).

Sometimes nutritional gatekeeping feels daunting, like sometimes food prep and cooking are all I do. It also feels like so much about our food system is against us. But it isn’t about getting everything right all the time.

I make mistakes. Recipes fail. And sometimes lunch is only a beef stick and an apple. But it’s a darn good beef stick and apple, and I’m grateful.

It doesn’t mean I stand over my husband every time he eats or scold others for their choices.

It’s not about saying “no” to every treat or worrying about every hidden, harmful ingredient.

I try not to stress. The more I learn, the more I adapt. I plead the Blood of Jesus and focus on what’s in my control using wisdom from the Lord.

My family doesn’t eat out often—we’d love to but don’t have many healthy options in our area. Homecooked food is the standard at which we’ve arrived. Sometimes, it’s inconvenient to pack meals, and it’s not the most socially acceptable thing to do, but I’m okay if people think I’m a snob when I show up to the ballpark with my own burgers.

My family trades things to eat well, but the energy, clarity, and sustenance it provides is worth it. Feeding my family well, not only in quantity but in quality, is one of the most rewarding things I could do and one way I honor God.

Because, as believers, if we’re not supposed to behave like the world, why do we eat like it?

Food isn’t salvational, but it does matter. Our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. Jesus came so we could live abundantly and that includes in good health. When we eat wisely, we feel well and can better serve others.

Most people are not able to live out their God-given potential when they’re unhealthy and sick.

In America, 75% of adults report having at least one chronic condition, and 90% of healthcare spending goes to treating chronic disease—much of what is linked to diet and lifestyle. (realfood.gov)

A result of unguarded gates.

We don’t have to be tormented by chronic disease.

We don’t have to feel powerless when it comes to food.

By becoming gatekeepers, we can guard our health and our family’s nutritional well-being. No matter your budget, and even if you’ve never had someone to guide you in this area, you can take ownership of your nutrition and positively impact the rest of your life.

It doesn’t have to look like my gatekeeping. It’s your gate. You decide what you put in your cart, where you buy your groceries and dine out, what food you bring into your home, and what you feed your body and your family’s bodies.

You are a nutritional gatekeeper.

It won’t be an easy task, but why would you expect it to be easy?

When we take a stand and guard the gate, food reconnects us to God and to slower, more meaningful, peaceful living, where love grows in gardens, kitchens, and souls and shapes the future.