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Two massive cultural trends have begun to reshape American conservatism.

The first is that conservatives are becoming “crunchy.” Not long ago, natural-health advocacy seemed to belong to a small but vocal tribe of stereotypically left-leaning, organic-loving, non-deodorant-wearing activists. But after the Fauci fiasco of 2020, culminating in today’s MAHA movement, things have changed. Regular moms are baking sourdough, raising backyard chickens, and avoiding vaccines and seed oils. Conservative men, once content to guzzle Diet Coke and microwave Hot Pockets, are now experimenting with carnivore diets and cold plunges.

The second trend is more surprising: the apparent halt of decades of secularization and a renewed openness to religion. Poll after poll suggests increases in church attendance and religious interest, particularly among young people and men. Some commentators suggest that this movement may even be accelerating as a result of the “Charlie Kirk Effect.”

Taken together, these two trends have created a cultural moment for something that would have sounded strange not long ago: health advice rooted in Scripture — especially dietary advice. Many Christians are now asking a simple and reasonable question: Does the Bible tell us how we should eat?

The answer is not as straightforward as many people assume.

The Bible is not a nutritional field manual. Attempts to treat it as one almost always lead to cherry-picking verses from the broader biblical story to support whatever health trend happens to be in vogue.

Take the so-called “Garden of Eden” diet. In this approach, whatever foods were available to Adam and Eve in the Garden are considered ideal, while meat and other animal products are ruled out. Of course, this arrangement lasts only until the great flood, after which God explicitly gives the animal kingdom into the hands of mankind. Still, the argument goes: If plants were God’s original design for humanity, then a plant-based diet must represent the gold standard.

Another approach points to the Jewish dietary laws as the pinnacle of biblical nutrition advice. God gave Israel detailed food regulations: no pork, no shellfish, no camel, and certainly no deep-fried rattlesnake or vulture stew. Surely, some argue, the diet prescribed for God’s chosen nation must represent the healthiest way to eat.

Then there’s the “what would Jesus do?” approach to nutrition. If Jesus was a first-century Mediterranean Jew, and if Christianity is about following Jesus, then perhaps Christians should adopt a Mediterranean diet as well. Jesus presumably ate fish, bread, olive oil, dates, pistachios, and perhaps milk, honey, curds, and other delicacies of the ancient Near East. As it happens, many of the world’s so-called “Blue Zones,” regions famous for longevity, follow a broadly similar pattern of eating. The conclusion seems obvious: If it worked for Jesus, it must work for us.

Add in the “Daniel Fast” and a handful of other biblical trends, and almost any modern health movement can find some scriptural support and some reason to believe it represents God’s gold-standard advice even today.

But while the Bible contains many diets and countless references to food, the real question is this: What does the New Testament say about the Christian diet?

In reality, it says surprisingly little (at least directly). What guidance it does give is fairly simple. We should receive food with gratitude (1 Timothy 4:4). Our dietary choices should not create unnecessary division among believers (Romans 14:1–3). And our freedom should never lead others into sin (Romans 14:13–21 and 1 Corinthians 8:9).

These instructions remain relevant, but they address a different set of concerns than the ones that dominate modern conversations about food. In the early church, the central questions were theological and communal: Could Jewish and Gentile believers eat together? Should Christians observe Old Testament dietary laws? Would certain foods create scandal among new converts?

Today, our questions look different because our problems are different. Modern societies face an unprecedented wave of chronic disease: diabetes, heart disease, and obesity, alongside rising infertility, autoimmune disorders, and autism. At the same time, the food environment itself has become increasingly complex. Grocery store aisles are filled with engineered “food-like substances,” while a booming health industry promotes countless supplements and restrictive diets. Amid this complicated landscape, many well-meaning people find themselves caught somewhere in the middle.

Yet the Bible’s relative silence about our modern diet questions does not leave Christians without guidance.

When read in its proper context, the entire story of the Bible, Old Testament included, ultimately points to Jesus Christ, “the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2). And it is only when we understand food in relation to Him that a truly Christian approach to eating begins to come into focus.

The Bible may not give us a diet plan. But it does give us something far more important: a framework for understanding the body, health, and food themselves. And Jesus is at the center of that framework.

Start with the body. Christianity does not treat the body as a disposable shell or a temporary “earth suit.” The Son of God took on human flesh (John 1:14), lived in a real human body, and rose again in a glorified body (Luke 24:39). In doing so, Christ affirmed the goodness and future of embodied human life. Our bodies are not incidental to who we are; they are a visible expression of our personhood and a gift through which we live, work, worship, and serve one another.

Next comes health. During His ministry, Jesus was often known as the Divine Physician, healing the sick and restoring the broken. Yet these miracles were never simply demonstrations of medical power. They were signs pointing to the restoration of the whole person in the kingdom of God. The theologian Karl Barth once defined health as “strength for life,” and it’s a worthwhile pursuit — so long as Christ Himself animates our lives.

Finally, Christ does something even more striking: He describes Himself as food. In the Gospel of John, Jesus declares, “I am the bread of life” (John 6:35). Our daily need for food is not accidental. It constantly reminds us that we are dependent creatures, sustained by gifts we did not create. In the deepest sense, our hunger for food points beyond itself to our deeper hunger for God.

Put these truths together and a distinctly Christian picture of nutrition begins to emerge. The body is affirmed and redeemed, health is reoriented toward faithful living, and food itself becomes a sign pointing us back to the Creator who sustains all life.

This is not yet a diet plan, and it is not meant to be. It is a way of seeing. A Christian approach to nutrition begins not with a list of approved foods, but with a vision of reality shaped by Christ Himself. Only within that vision can the science of nutrition be properly understood and applied.

In a cultural moment obsessed with both health trends and rediscovered faith, Christians don’t need to invent a “biblical diet.” What we need is a Christ-centered approach to nutrition. When we start there, the question is no longer simply, “What should we eat?” but, “How can even the ordinary act of eating reflect the goodness and wisdom of the God who made us?”

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Andy Felton writes about the intersection between nutrition and theology and is the author of “Nourished by Design: A Christ-Centered Approach to Nutrition.”

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Why Some Conservatives Are Opening The Bible Before Deciding What’s For Dinner