Feasting on the word
Review of "God Who Became Bread" by Emily Wierenga.
In the preface of God Who Became Bread, Emily Wierenga writes, “I pray you’ll become glutted on God’s goodness, then turn and feed this living Bread to a very hungry world.” This is precisely what God Who Became Bread, accomplishes. The book transforms the concept of living Bread into something tangible, igniting a passion for partaking in the Lord’s feast and sharing it with others.
God Who Became Bread is a “true story of starving, feasting, and feeding others.” Wierenga is a writer, artist and founder of The Lulu Tree, a “nonprofit serving vulnerable families around the world.” She lives in northern Alberta with her husband and three children. In God Who Became Bread, Wierenga vulnerably invites readers into the corners of her life growing up, and how her battle with anorexia shaped her relationship with food and her relationship with God.
Vivid imagery
Wierenga’s style of writing is poetic and full of imagery. She transforms the abstract concept of the living Bread into a tangible experience. By weaving personal stories and vivid imagery, she brings to life the idea of God’s sustenance in a way that readers can physically and emotionally grasp. The living Bread is no longer just a theological metaphor; it becomes something real and present, something that can be touched, felt and shared. This transformation allows readers to experience the richness of God’s provision in their own lives, making the spiritual journey feel more immediate and deeply personal.
A pastor’s daughter, Wierenga spent her early years in Congo before moving to Canada with her family. She writes about her childhood, and her desire to personally know God, “And I keep trying to see God, because macaroni and cheese only fills you up so long. And I am scared by how empty I feel at night, like someone has gutted out my chest, and it hurts to breathe.” At nine years old, Wierenga stops eating. “I begin to stare for hours into the mirror at the image of the frightened little girl with the chubby cheeks and the bowl cut, and I begin to despise her because she seems unlovable, she writes. “And I think, if big is bad, then small is good, and maybe when I’m small, I will begin to feel the love I’m looking for.”
Throughout the book, Wierenga transports the reader to places all over the world. From the quiet town of Mitchell, Ontario to Uganda, to South Sudan. Wierenga shares about her lows in her faith relationship, writing, “As much as I’m still reading the Bible I’m not digesting anything. I am nibbling, maybe, then spitting it out, as if Scripture might be fattening. And then I wonder why I can’t hear Jesus anymore.” She also writes about the times in her life when she is closer to Jesus, “He’s there, and He’s here, and He’s the closest friend I have in the world because He’s seen everything I’ve seen, only He’s seen it for centuries. He’s heard every story I’ve heard, and so many more. He’s real. He’s real.”
I value Wierenga’s vulnerability throughout her book. Her rawness drew me in and made it difficult to put the book down. I kept wanting to read, absorbing every word on every page, anticipating where she would transport me next. My heart broke as she shared stories of loss, and it overflowed as she shared stories of people finding faith.
The gift of communion
Wierenga structured her book into four sections: “The Hunger,” “The Feast,” “The Feedings,” and “Koinonia.” In the preface she writes, “The section titles in the first three parts represent elements of a feast: table, bread, wine, mangoes, fish, oil, and, benediction. The final section, “Koinonia,” is all about the ultimate feast, Communion – the Lord’s Supper – and the depth of what this means for us ragged sinners saved by grace.” This format is easy to follow and adds to the imagery in the book.
As Christians, it’s easy to feel alone during times of questioning, when faith feels dry rather than like a feast. Wierenga makes her readers feel seen by sharing her vulnerabilities. She offers glimpses of how people live in relationship with God all over the world – stories that are inspiring, thought-provoking and deeply resonant, reminding us of the diverse ways faith can be experienced and expressed.
I admire and appreciate how Wierenga used imagery and her story to bring me into a deeper relationship with God. She writes, “We have colorful afghans at home, crocheted by the blind women from Africa, and I wrap myself in them, trying to feel God’s love around me.” This simple, but powerful, image invites readers to find comfort and God’s presence in the everyday objects and moments of life, deepening our understanding of how faith can be both personal and universal.
