Archive for the The Journey Category

In Hazzard County, they do things different. Two of its residents, Bo and Luke Duke, are cousins who fight the system. They confront the evil machinations of Boss Hogg—the corrupt county commissioner who owns most of the property and businesses in Hazzard. Bo and Luke are “good old boys” with “hearts of gold” who genuinely want to confront evil and overcome it. They are frequently undaunted in their courage as they chase down Roscoe P. Coltrane—Boss Hogg’s deputy—and stop him from perpetuating Hogg’s greedy schemes.

Many of the Dukes escapades involve car chases (overdubbed by playful bluegrass music) in their souped-up Dodge Charger, the General Lee. While driving they exchange funny quips like this:

Luke: “You know, Bo, you could lose your way on a racetrack.”

Bo: “Burt Reynolds never seems to get lost.”

Luke: “He’s got a mustache.”

The Dukes of Hazzard had a pretty big impact on my formative years. I was five years old when the first episode aired and eleven when the boys retired from television. I was captivated by their cuteness and inspired by their spunk. They were my underdog heroes and I adored them.

But I learned some things from the “good old boys” that maybe weren’t so, well, good.

I learned from the Dukes that we can balance the scale of iniquity as long as our intentions are generally good. In real life we call this compromise. Their story begins with Bo and Luke on probation for five years for running moonshine for their uncle Jesse. Many of their escapades involve similarly shady dealings and they are often enticed into situations that make them violate the terms of their probation, such as helping “Swamp Molly”, an old moonshining friend of Jesse’s, make one last run. They do this because Molly once saved Jesses from the Fed’s and he “owes her one.”

This is a familiar TV show tactic. The reformed bad guy is tempted to relapse out of guilt. On a show like the Dukes of Hazzard, the “good guys” usually wiggle out of their conundrum with a little elbow grease and a grin. In dramatic films the storyline serves as an object lesson, such as the character of Carlito Brigante, as played by Al Pacinio in Carlito’s Way. The reason why these stories are dangerous is that we learn compromise is okay as long as the ends justify the means.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? I the Lord search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.”

Jeremiah 17:9-10

Another problem is that our small compromises often turn into big compromises. When we rationalize one behavior we are quicker to rationalize others. Compromise in the area of living a healthy lifestyle leads to regression. One cheat day turns into two and then ten, and finally abandonment of a healthy lifestyle altogether. If for no other reason, compromise is hazardous to your health!

Compromise also fuels greed; one of the significant themes that run through the show. Boss Hogg is blatantly greedy. He is frequently shown wearing a bib, eating fried chicken, and concocting plans to get richer than he already is. He is a horrendous hypocrite and never takes responsibility for his bad behavior. If not for those “meddling kids” he would make life a living hell for the residents of Hazzard County.

So when Boss finally gets what he wants—the deed to the Duke’s farm—via foreclosure, it is with a certain sense of irony that Boss learns he has a terminal illness and will probably die within two weeks. He suddenly gets really scared of eternal consequences and decides to change his ways. Boss gives the deed back—at least until he finds out his diagnosis is a mistake
—then he reverts to his evil ways once again. And since greed is very entertaining, we are all somewhat relieved to see Boss scheming for how to bilk folks and torment those Duke boys once again.

In real life greed is vile and evil, not a punchline for a joke. Greed prompts us to steal office supplies from our place of employment. It whispers that we can be married and sleep with the next door neighbor. It tricks us by inciting illicit passions that cause us to eat the whole pizza, not just one slice.

Greed fosters the mentality that we can get something for nothing. The Lottery and gambling establishments would not exist if not for greed. Simply put, greed is a black hole that takes but is never satisfied. It exists because of our sin nature and is only quenched by replacing false pleasures with real ones. 

Sin is always acting, always conceiving, always seducing and tempting.

John Owen

Like Boss Hogg we rarely confront our greed until we are faced with the consequences of our behavior. Greed is hazardous because it promises more while delivering less.

Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane has a famous saying, “Cuff ’em and Stuff ’em!” He says this every time he apprehends someone. But frequently the apprehended parties (usually Bo and Luke Duke) wiggle free and poor Rosco is left stuttering in the dust and scrambling to catch up. This is how we generally manage our hazardous behavior. We make a valiant effort with our weak and floppy hands to get our raging appetites under control only to watch our resolve crumble when real temptation strikes. The cycle of guilt and shame erupts around us in a cloud of dust and chokes us half to death. But there is a better way.

The beautiful message of the gospel is simply this: life and peace. When we ask Jesus to be Lord of our lives we experience the incredible joy that freedom from sins entails. Television programs like the Dukes of Hazzard are fun to watch but they reinforce a wrong idea; namely, that God is boring and wants to stifle our good time. They celebrate ideas like compromise and greed. They enchant us with cute characters that blur the lines between good and evil. Unfortunately, sometimes they encourage us to believe we can save ourselves.

I’m not saying all television and movies are bad. I enjoy a well told story. In fact, I still enjoy watching The Dukes of Hazzard. But I love Jesus more and He has opened my eyes to the hazards some programs promote.

Jesus wants to manage our mischief for us. If we surrender our will to him, the fruit of our trees will be love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23) This does not mean will are free from temptation. It simply means that He sends the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness. If we know Jesus and do not cling to this promise, we need to pray for more grace to help us better understand it. In my case, for far too many years I made a habit of loving my sin more than I loved God. I did not understand the beauty of friendship with God and so I choose food and many other vices that kept me in a perpetual cloud of dust. But once I had exhausted my store of endurance and began to learn how to lean on the everlasting arms, I found a love sweeter than chocolate and more satisfying than ice cream. I invited God to walk with me and to teach me how to love him more than cookies. Only then did he set me free. If you are reading this, no matter what hazardous lanes you have been driving in, he can set you free too!

Today I encourage you to get out of the danger zones and manage your mischief permanently! Surrender your life to the giver of all good things and discover the wonder walking with him entails. You will never regret it.

Well, I have almost survived the holidays without gaining weight. But wait! I should have lost weight. Alas, but I ate! Yes, shortly after my last post I became stressed to maximum capacity with holiday preparations and buried my head in a pan of homemade brownies. I’m not proud. But I figure if I’m going to be honest about living a healthy lifestyle, I must also share when I fail to do so.

While we enjoyed fellowship with family, family dysfunction, and turkey, (turkey is an excellent coping mechanism by the way) it is clear that the feasting must come to an end and the exercise regimen must resume.

This morning I climbed out of bed–fresh from a visit to the family farm–and realized it was time to work off some of this blubber. I have a Nordictrack elliptical machine I bought off Craigslist a few years ago that resides in the dark corners of my basement. I use it the most in the winter when it’s too cold to ride my bicycle. And since it was raining this morning, I decided it was time to re-familiarize myself with the machine.

I want to state for the record: the machine is not my friend.

This is not an infomercial. I don’t go down into the bowels of my home with a cheery smile and a skip in my step. I walk down the stairs with the sound of shrieking violins playing in my mind. I imagine Freddy and Jason have become pals and are standing next to the machine while they invite me to come play. And that is why every time I choose to use the elliptical machine (of doom) I procrastinate.

It took me an hour to move furniture and sweep the basement. I hoped cleaning dust and dirt off the floor would help declutter my mind and make using the elliptical less torturous. For context, I hate cleaning only slightly less than using the machine.

My son was watching cartoons but I made him turn them off. Using the machine requires intense concentration and I cannot afford distractions. Even the slightest irritation will cause me to “go off the rails.” Which is why I always read John Owen when I’m on the machine. I focus wholeheartedly on the tasty truth of overcoming sin and temptation so as to somehow avoid the revenge of the machine for at least another week.

Of course half way through my workout my third born son decided to play with the boxer dogs. The next thing I knew there was a volleyball under the track and I was in jeopardy of wobbling, falling, and breaking my hip. I may have shouted a curse word, but since no one recorded and uploaded it to social media, it didn’t really happen. I will admit, however, that my already elevated heartrate broke records previously unsurpassed in the history of Wolfinbarger workouts. Freddy and Jason thought this was hilarious.

Now, I want the dear reader to understand that I don’t look like those women on the Nordictrack commercials. They look cute when they wiggle. I probably resemble Cathy Bates from her appearance in About Schmidt (though I have never watched that film). While I was sweating and trying to breathe, I promised myself that I would never, ever eat brownies again. And while the machine was extracting its pound of flesh, I held on like an action hero clinging to the bottom of a helicopter while it is taking off with his woman inside. Except it looks so much cooler when Chuck Norris does it. Obviously, he never had a C-section.

After the machine was done with its dastardly work, I collapsed into a puddle onto the floor. My son said, “Mom, are you still alive?” I responded by blinking my eyes a few times. I was still unable to speak. Meanwhile my doggies ran over and rolled all over me because they seemed to think it was time to cuddle with the puddle of sweat.

Today I survived the revenge of the elliptical machine. But if anyone sees a headline next week that reads, “Woman Dies After Elliptical Machine Catastrophe”, rest assured they will show a cute smiling picture of me that was taken while I was not using the machine.

“I made a mess of me I wanna get back the rest of me. I’ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my life alive.”- Switchfoot – Mess of Me 

 Have you ever had an itch you know you shouldn’t scratch because you know it will only itch more? Think…poison ivy. Eczema.  Psoriasis. Chigger bites.  Intense scratching is what you want to do more than anything in the whole wide world but when you do there is no relief. That’s how I feel today. My itch is big—way bigger than chigger bites—but I’m not scratching. And I’m about to lose my mind.

“But Margaret,” you say, “this is what calamine lotion is for. Don’t you have any hydrocortisone cream? Or maybe you should call your doctor and get some steroids. Steroids are amazing for relentless skin afflictions.” And this is where I respond by slapping you across the face and then shrieking, “Give me some ice cream now before my brains explode.”

*Margaret breathes deeply and tries to compose herself but instead dissolves into tears.*

15 minutes later…

Sometimes it feels like there is no relief for killer cravings. They pop up out of nowhere and attack ones sanity. One sips hot tea or water, chews sugar free gum, and basically endures second after minute after hour of relentless torment only to be met with more agonizing want. The hunger for “that thing” gnaws at your resolve like a wiry squirrel chomping at a bird feeder. The mind begins to rationalize and pretty soon you are convinced that consuming the forbidden food is worth breaking every goal you’ve set if only to relieve the itch for a few minutes. But I am here to tell you it is not.

You see, I don’t like squirrels. In fact, I own a squirrel trap. And I’ve become pretty adept at capturing those suckers when they begin to malign my bird feeders. Yes, I know they are living creatures. Yes, I know they get hungry. The thing is; I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, they all deserve to die. The only good squirrel is a stuffed squirrel. Or squirrel stew. Or a squirrel-skin cap. And this is the part of the blog where I break out my bb gun and pump it a few times. Cause I’m out for blood. Squirrel blood that is.

That is how serious I am about denying ones cravings. And if the bb gun doesn’t do the trick, I’ve got a hatchet, a hammer and a saw.

People used to tell me, “Margaret, you need to treat yourself. Nobody can deny themselves all the time. You’ve done so well. Here, have a piece of cake.” They stopped saying those things to me when I got that crazy look in my eye that seemed to say, “Do you have a death wish, Squirrel?” Because I don’t take kindly to sabotage. Cue the soundtrack to my life every time a commercial for Hershey’s holiday kisses comes on.

So here’s the situation. You’re in full blown craving mode. That itch is red hot and trying to burn your house down and all the weapons you’ve thrown at it have been consumed. You are standing in line at Chick-Fil-A. There are three customers ahead of you in line. The servers can’t wait to have the pleasure of making you fatter. What do you do?

Walk out of the damned door.

Get in your car.

Turn on some Beastie Boys and head bang your heart out.

Cry. Moan. Honk your horn at unsuspecting little old ladies. Scream if you have to. But do not eat the ice cream.

This is war, folks. You don’t win wars by losing battles. Just ask George Washington after all the other companies wussed out at the Delaware River.

Today I went to war with the squirrel. He was gnawing at my innards and I took him out with the shot gun. (the bb gun was too small!) Now, maybe you are thinking that’s a little extreme. Nope. That squirrel was rabid and set on pissing off my pants. Yes, I’m cussing. These is fighting words. I like my pants loose and happy—not tight and vicious. When I was a kid, my dad never cussed except when he got really mad. And I knew when he used the word “pissed off” it was serious. I’m using it today. (Thanks, Dad!)

Today, if you are tempted to scratch that itch, break out your shot gun.

Tell that damned squirrel to piss off.

I know he’s giving you lip. He’s telling you that you aren’t strong enough to abstain any longer. He’s nibbling at your guts and squeaking, “You can’t take me! I got you over a barrel. You NEED it.”

Well I’m here to tell you the truth.

You don’t need it.

You are strong enough to abstain.

You will only feel worse if you indulge.

Eat a grapefruit. (or any kind of food on your approved list)

Cuss and cry out for help.

Call a friend.

And then do the next thing.

Is that strong enough tonic for ya? Well is it, Punk?!