From Root to Fruit: The Ultimate Temptation

I stared into the bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough. Each creamy wave lapped the edge of the bowl as I stirred. The brown sugar and butter were smooth and the Mexican vanilla added that rich smell that makes the dough truly delightful to eat. I considered the taste—how the dough melts on the tongue, how many times I’ve consumed it over the years—so much so that at one time I had to make a double batch just so there would be a few cookies left at the end of the project. I set the bowl down and considered once again, what if I chucked this whole healthy lifestyle stuff and just started eating again?

We live in a culture where we are constantly encouraged to indulge. Indulge our appetites, aesthetic inclinations and especially our emotions. We can most certainly have what we want–when we want it. And why not? We have no boundaries. We are told we must explore our deepest desires. We must get in touch with our inner selves in order to determine who we are and where we want to go in life. But is looking inside of ourselves the best way? Is indulging every single appetite every single time actually good for us? I have learned from personal experience that indulgence has a price. As I stared down into the cookie dough last weekend I asked myself the question many people neglect when faced with temptation, “Should I?”

“Should I” and “Could I” are two different questions. “Should I?” ponders the consequences. “Could I?” merely questions physical capability. I spent many years proving that I could indulge. The problem is my culture gives me conflicting messages. I wasn’t beautiful unless I was thin, but I wasn’t happy unless I was satisfied with the tastiest food. The steady stream of propaganda specifically crafted for creatures like me was irresistible. C.S. Lewis said, “A man with an obsession is a man who has very little sales-resistance.” No one understands this better than the entertainment industry and they are always reinforcing that we are the captains of our souls and should therefore pursue our deepest longings no matter what the cost.

Cover Girl?

A friend lamented to me recently that an eye infection would prevent her from wearing makeup for at least a week. I thought about the time I got poison ivy on my face and shuddered. “A whole week without makeup? Oh, the humanity!” I have many friends who will not go outside their homes without their “faces” on. In fact, cosmetics have become such a standard of beauty that women and girls are routinely shamed by friends and classmates for not applying them properly. Maybelline and Loreal have thriving businesses targeted at our vanity obsession and most women admit they feel naked without it. Now I’m not shucking makeup—I wear it nearly every day. What I’m poking at is more around our utter dependence on beauty.

Why do we care so much about our appearance? I’m not talking about basic grooming. I like my shower, thank-you-very-much. I’m talking about the extremes we pursue to be beautiful. I was eating lunch with a friend at a restaurant a few years ago when two middle-aged women walked in. Their faces looked like Claymation gone horribly awry. They wore chic tops with cropped pants. High-end purses dangled from their wrists. Their sunglasses were obligatorily perched in professionally tousled hair. But their faces! Why had they done that to their faces?

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.” 1 John 2:15-17

Emotions unleashed

Harvey Weinstein is the most recent example of abuse of power gone awry. We’ve seen the likes of Bill Cosby, Bill Clinton, Bill O’Reilly and several others not named Bill stretched across the headlines recently as prime examples of perversion. We rightly call “fowl” when humans harm other humans for their own gratification. The backlash against Mr. Weinstein has been nothing short of spectacular with women all over the world coming forward to acknowledge the prevalence and problem of sexual harassment. One man online recently opined that if so many women have been harassed or assaulted, what does that say about the men in our culture?

We rightly call it wrong when people give vent to culturally unacceptable vices but what about when those vices are emotional in nature. We assume our feelings don’t generally harm anyone but what happens when they do? We know that drinking too much alcohol or doing drugs is bad for our bodies, but what about anger? What about fear? What about (romantic) love?

There is a dangerous idea floating around our media that “falling in love” is the single highest state of emotional contentment. We are encouraged to find that state of emotional bliss and ardently pursue it. We see this evidenced in our heroines; Bridget Jones, Bella from Twilight, and Allie in The Notebook. And we begin to believe that love is a feeling, and once the feeling fades, we are free to pursue other opportunities regardless of the impact on our families—and I would even suggest—our communities.

Men understand the great need of women to be loved in this “exhilarating” way and use it to their advantage. Robert Palmer immortalized this idea in the song, “Addicted to Love”. One track mind indeed. I was recently talking to a co-worker about her experience with men and I asked if she had ever met a man who cared for and protected her. Her response was telling. She said no. Not her father, uncle, brother, ex-husband, or son. If she was telling the truth, and I believe she was, that is a startling statement about the male mind in today’s society. When did men stop putting the needs of women before their own?

Women are obsessed with being “in love”. Men are obsessed with sex. Both obsessions point inward. This inward focus is disappointing at best and horrific at its worst. People have been seeking to understand and know and oblige themselves so intently and for so long that they have lost touch with what it means to care for other human beings. Real love sacrifices. It costs something. And I would like to suggest that it exists outside us.

Why?

Our vices say a great deal about us. They remind us we are all consumers. We consume food, energy, air, knowledge, and even other people. We are perpetually “hungry” for something. Some hungers are normal and necessary, but others cause harm. I would like to suggest that when we pursue our desires and seek to satisfy our endless hungers by looking inside ourselves we are actually involved in a form of self-worship. We consume what we worship, and if we have no frame of reference for goodness outside personal preference, we become monsters.

In an old episode of the original Star Trek, Captain Kirk and his friends are captured by a being who claims to be the Greek god, Apollo. He transports them to his planet and entreats them to worship him. When they refuse, he focusses his attention on a female crew member, Carolyn, probably because she is female and ostensibly weak. He uses every charm in his toolbox to seduce her and he eventually succeeds. She falls for him. In fact, the only reason the crew escapes is because of her loyalty to her captain and the rest of the crew. She chose duty and honor over emotion.

Why do we call heroes courageous? Because they save other people at a cost to themselves. Why do we call villains evil? Because they are self-focused. They want power at the expense of others. Heroes save lives. Villains take them. Villains are vain and look in the mirror a lot. Heroes are selfless and point to others as better than themselves.

We don’t often look at ourselves through this lens. Life is busy. We have jobs to do, children to transport, television to watch. Of course I like to think of myself as a hero until my child throws a fit in the grocery store and I lose my temper, grab his arm and yank him around while whispering gruffly, “Shut up you little brat!” Why? Because I don’t want people staring at us. Why? Because I’m embarrassed. Why? Because I want everyone to think I’m a perfect mom with a perfect child. Why? Because I’m proud.

Excising the Root

When I lived in Ferguson I had a tenacious weed in my back yard. It was a vine and the stem was stronger than twine. Every time I cut the vine, it sprouted again. One day I got really ticked off and decided to dig it out. What I found shocked me. There was a tuber, as big as a potato about 2 feet under the ground. It was hideous to look at, pale brown with a fleshy center and covered with ugly nodules. My entire back hill was covered with that vine and I spent years trying to get rid of it for good. I never succeeded. Every time I thought I had it under control, it would come back. Pride is like that.

Pride is the most basic form of self-worship. It puts me and my needs above everyone else. It drives me to curse my husband when he doesn’t fulfill my romantic notions, it drives me to adorn my body with perfumes, makeup and clothes that make me “beautiful”, and it drives me to eat cookie dough in vast quantities. Pride is the root of every evil inclination in my nature and I have come to the realization that I can never excise it completely.

But God can.

Oh, darn it. Margaret’s talking about God again. That pesky God! Why is He always butting in on my good time? And I was just about to eat an entire pizza. I was just about to watch a romantic comedy! I was just about to go off on my co-worker for clicking her pen repeatedly and loudly. Good grief!
Now don’t misunderstand—I’m not condemning the casual enjoyment of movies, food or romantic love. All of those things are good. But when we worship them, they become a real problem.

You Shall Have No Other Gods Before Me

Many people who have not understood the bible—maybe because they haven’t read it or because they only read pieces of it out of context—believe God is an overbearing ogre who makes unreasonable demands. Obviously we can never meet those demands and so we are stuck in this terrible dilemma. We can either try really hard to be good and earn his favor—and thereby gain a toehold into Heaven—or we can reject him entirely and go to hell (or we can pretend there is no hell but that’s not even remotely scriptural). Han Solo was fully prepared to go there or he wouldn’t have told Princess Leia he would see her there if he didn’t survive trying to save Luke from the Wampa. (Sorry—my inner geek got out!)

The very first sin was based in pride. Eve thought she knew better than God. She wanted to eat the fruit and Satan tricked her into believing she knew better than her creator. Pride is first and foremost our belief that we can be our own god. We are autonomous. We call the shots. We don’t need no stinkin’ help. We got this! Except we don’t. And deep down we all know that. We don’t got this.

God knew that when he gave Moses the Ten Commandments. The very first thing God said was to love Him more than anything else. Everything else stems from that love. Jesus reinforced that message when he came to earth and was made manifest. He said to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves. That’s all God really wants. He wants us to love him and acknowledge that we can’t live life without him. We have, in fact, turned our backs on him, because we are prideful. Incredibly He gives us the choice: life with Him forever in Heaven or eternal death (hell).

The End of Overeating

Now that I’ve alienated all those folks who just wanted to figure out how to stop eating chocolate chip cookie dough, I can say what I wanted to say in the beginning. Pride is the greatest temptation (though cookie dough may be a close second). Amazingly, God loves us in spite of our pride. He knows pride is terrible because it destroys us. It robs us of joy. It assaults the innocent. It corrodes hope. And so he gently encourages us to let go of our vices and cling to Him instead. He wants to save us. He knows our hearts are hungry for Him and we just don’t know it. The pleasure we take in our vices point us to the true hunger in our hearts for the only true, satisfying love we will ever experience; the love of our creator. He made us to love him and when we don’t, we get wonky (for lack of a better, more theological word).

Pride is really challenging to spot in ourselves at times and we may have to dig long and deep to find it. We see the fruit, but the root eludes us. I believe the only place the root can be truly destroyed is when we surrender our will to God and ask Him to save us. That’s where I started in May of 2010. I knew I had an eating problem and I was desperate to fix my morbidly obese body. I started simple: I wanted to stop eating candy. God whispered to me that I needed to learn discipline. I asked for His help and then He walked with me, and patiently taught me how to say no to the foods that were slowly killing me.

Newsflash! Sometimes saying no to ourselves is loving and good!

Today if you are parched and depleted, if you have finally realized the vice you cling to is a liar and is destroying you, let go of your pride. Start by acknowledging that you are completely powerless to save yourself. Then seek someone outside yourself who can. Start with Jesus and you will never lack for anything.

A long time ago Jesus met a woman at a well and told her about living water. Today if you are thirsty, come, drink and live!

Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” – John 4:13-14

Comfort for the Broken in Spirit

My teeth were chattering but I was not cold. The ache radiated from inside my muscles like hot coals. I tossed another clump of hair into the trash can—one more reminder that my body could not tolerate the shock and horror of what had happened. My broken heart was beyond the reach of pain relievers and so I sat and shivered in the darkness. I sucked on my tears and wondered if the day would ever come that they would cease.

Have you ever had a pain so big and so lasting that you felt your body falling apart? Have you turned off the television because the images only added to your misery? Have you considered the options and despaired? The human body has a great capacity for pain. Our sensitive nerve endings remind us in quiet, unrelenting moments just how delicate we are. We watch as the young and healthy around us run and play. If we were once young and nimble, we grieve for what was. If we have never known that kind of carefree flight, we groan with envy. We stare at the strong arms of young lovers as they embrace and we sorrowfully remember how it felt to be cherished and adored.

What do we do with that kind of pain? Where is God? Does He even care? Is He unable to help or does He just not want to?

I recently watched the movie, “Oh, God” with George Burns on the recommendation from a friend. In the movie God appears to a grocery store manager named Jerry and tells him he is a messenger for the modern world. But Jerry had some important questions to ask “God” before he accepts his mission.

Jerry Landers: How can you permit all the *suffering* that goes on the world?

God: Ah, how can *I* permit the suffering?

Jerry Landers: Yeah!

God: I don’t permit the suffering. You do! Free will. All the choices are yours.

Jerry Landers: Choices? What choices?

God: You can love each other, cherish and nurture each other or you can kill each other. Incidentally, “kill” is the word. It’s not “waste.” If I meant “waste” I would have written “thou shalt not waste.” You’re doing some very funny things with words, here.

Jerry Landers: People are always praying to You. Do You listen?

God: I can’t help hearing. I don’t always listen.

Jerry Landers: So then You don’t care.

God: Of course I care! But what can I do?

Jerry Landers: What can You do? You’re God!

God: Only for the big picture. I don’t get into details.

Jerry Landers: Whatever happens to us…

God: Happens!

No wonder people reject God. If the only idea we have of him is that he is leaving us to our own devices, no wonder we despair. If his only response is to tell us to be nice to each other and hope for the best, yikes! But I have good news. He is present. He does get into the details. He has not left us alone or without comfort. And while yes, I agree that we do exercise our free will by making poor choices (sin), the wonderful news of the gospel is that He loves us and chooses us anyway.

Wake up and smell the iodine!

I was about ten years old and riding my bicycle down the sidewalk when I mismanaged the handlebars and caught my tire in the crack between the pavement and the grass. I tumbled over and scraped my elbow. It was a traumatic thing to happen to me, first because there was so much blood and second because I was about a mile (it may as well have been 1,000 miles) away from home, and there was no adult nearby to help me. I totally panicked. With tears streaming down my face I began to run home but my lungs couldn’t keep up with my pace and I was forced to walk home with blood streaming down my arm. I thought I was going to die. When I finally made it to my house I sobbed to my mother, “Mom, I’m hurt.” She took me into the bathroom, rinsed out my wound and bandaged me up. In that moment I felt so loved and cared for.

The funny thing about that bike was that up until I crashed, I thought I was doing pretty well riding it, which is why I rode so far from home. I was very confident of my ability not to crash and so when it happened I was understandably stunned. I asked the same questions most people do when something bad happens to them. Why did I have to get hurt? But then I also began to blame myself for being so stupid as to screw up navigating the sidewalk. I mean really, who does that? Babies. That’s who. I felt like such a dummy. But when my mom told me that sometimes accidents just happen, it gave me complete freedom from guilt. Then I was free to focus on the important work of her healing my heart (and my elbow) with her love.

Pain jolts us awake to the realization that we cannot heal ourselves. We are not self-sufficient. We are helpless. We need someone to come and bandage us up. That is why our response to pain is so important. Would we not call it foolish to stare at our bleeding elbow, shrug our shoulders and then just move on as if we weren’t bleeding all over the ground?

God is not a sadomasochist. He does not delight in our misery. God does see the deeper wound—the one in our heart we don’t always like to acknowledge—the idea that we don’t need Him at all. More importantly, he wants to heal us. Therefore, I believe He allows pain and suffering in order to shake us out of our prideful inebriation—the idea that we can save ourselves, that we can go on rowing merrily down the stream as if life were just a dream.

We must surrender

I sat in my bedroom staring at the wall. I had been crying in bed for weeks. Nothing comforted me. Not the words of my friends or food or hunger or the questioning eyes of my children. I had no purpose except to shiver and ache and groan. People had listened for a while but they were sick of my misery and had begun to avoid my calls. I wanted to die. I literally could not bear the pain any longer. The doctor had refused my request for more Xanax, the only thing that helped my body be calm. And because I didn’t know what else to do, I began to read my Bible. If I recall correctly, my prayers were not profound. “God help me. I need help. I’m all alone!”

I had been reading the Bible because it was the one thing on earth that truly comforted me. God knew my pain. He knew how it felt to be rejected. And he had words for me that seemed to leap off the page.

As I read those words I felt a mysterious peace settle over my spirit. I felt as if someone had enveloped me in a soul-satisfying hug. My anxiety vanished. My muscles relaxed. So I did the only reasonable thing at that moment; I laid my forehead on my Bible and exhaled. I knew God was present. I knew He had heard my prayer. He is close to the broken hearted. He does save those who are crushed in spirit. His word promised and I knew His words were true.

This was only one of many ways God came close and comforted me during a very dark time in my life. This is not to say I didn’t make foolish choices or try to find comfort in other places. But He just kept loving me where I was, and when those other methods failed, I ran back to His words and I always found the comfort I needed.

God is not a benevolent grandfather-type wagging his finger at us and telling us to go out and be nice to each other because he “doesn’t get into the details”. Rather, he is a patient Father gently calling us to come back and love him again. The whole Bible is the story of his pursuit of us because He loves us. Today if you are suffering terribly, the most important thing you can know is just how deep that love goes. After all, Jesus proved it by leaving the throne room of Heaven to build the bridge from God to us. (Curious how Jesus was never mentioned once in the movie, “O, God”).

Today if you are suffering, whether it is from a painful divorce, migraines, obesity, or a chronic physical ailment, take heart! If we pray, He not only hears us, He listens. And while he may not answer our prayers the way we want Him to, it’s not because he doesn’t get involved in the details. It because He wants to heal the real wound—our prideful, unbelieving hearts. He is more concerned with our eternal state, not this temporary body. Because the truth is, He loves us so much that He was willing to die because He wants our hearts forever.

The Failure of Fantasy

When I was in high school I was obsessed with horror. Horror movies and horror stories plucked a string deep inside me that throbbed like a wound. I didn’t know at the time how deep the pain went. I only knew that the words on the page and the images on the screen were irresistibly titillating. I consumed them and they became a part of me.

I stopped consuming horror in my early twenties after I began to have nightmares. The dreams were so terrifying that I would lay in bed crying and shaking before I went to sleep. I spent years being afraid of the nighttime–not because I was afraid of the dark, but because I was afraid of the darkness inside of myself. It was the beginning of what I now understand to be the failure of fantasy. What I thought was an escape was actually a dungeon from which I could not escape.

My love of fantasy began with romantic novels. I drank stories like wine–to become intoxicated by the feelings that made me feel. My 13 year old life was rather dull and so I escaped into worlds where I could pretend to be a woman being ravished by a man. I learned love from the pages of books that began with a woman having a problem and ended with a man solving it. I fell in love with “and they lived happily ever after”. Happily ever after became my doctrine.

One of the other fantasies that became deeply ingrained in my psyche was the idea that if I was thin and beautiful, I would be happy. All of the popular television programs espoused this doctrine and every movie proclaimed, “romantic love will save us!” And since all the heroines were thin and pretty, I adopted the pursuit of outward beauty. But when I lost the weight in my early twenties and learned that being thin doesn’t automatically make one happy, I despaired and quickly regained the weight. But rather than face the darkness inside–the darkness I was still unwilling to confront–I buried my head in fantasy once again. If I couldn’t be happy in myself, I would rely on stories and television and music to carry me away. Food was my constant companion in this delusion. As I grew heavier, I grew unhappier. As my clothes grew baggier to cover my frame I sank deeper and deeper into self-loathing until I finally felt so small I couldn’t imagine that anyone loved me at all. I was insignificant. Worthless. Hopeless.

Fantasy led me to believe my life had no value because I wasn’t pretty, rich, or famous. The more I “lived vicariously” in worlds other than reality, the more disillusioned I became.

In essence, fantasy made the wound worse.

I didn’t want to do the hard work required to heal and so I festered and foundered and flailed in my foolishness. The hardest thing I have ever done is too look myself in the eye and say, “Margaret, you have a problem. The second hardest thing was to do something about it.

This realization was actually a tremendous gift. I was so enamored with stories that I’m not sure anyone could have convinced me I had a problem. Since my journey to live a healthy lifestyle forced me to confront the pathos behind my eating disorder, I had to pull my head up out of the sand so-to-speak. I found that facing my 310 pound body was truly horrible. Even worse was walking around the block in it. I despaired when I considered how many steps were required to shed 100 pounds (my initial goal) and in order to get through the pain and suffering, I had to focus on something outside of myself. I chose to focus on Jesus. Each day I was tempted to eat foods that were harmful to my body and I had to make hard choices. I chose Jesus. I began to read The Bible like I had never read it before. It’s message became clear; I had hope. And nothing, not even disordered eating could quash that hope.

One of my favorite genres of story is dystopian fiction and so a few years ago when I picked up an interesting title at the library, I found myself ensconced in the story. The book was “Pure” by Julianna Baggot. The characters were so richly drawn and I could not wait for the second title. “Fuse” did not disappoint. And so when “Burn” came out I read hastily. But as I turned each page, longing for a glimmer or hope, redemption or even just the healing the main characters so desired, I found myself more than disappointed. I was angry. The story ended and my hopes for the characters with it. I credited my frustration with the writer or maybe even my understanding of what story she was trying to tell. But then I picked up another story, “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” by Ransom Riggs. Again, I could not put the books down. And at the end of the third story, however, I felt the same disappointment. The stories were well written and imagined but I still wasn’t satisfied with where they landed. I was reminded this morning of my disappointment in The Hunger Games series. Same thing. In fact, I think it was the Hunger Games that finally forced me to acknowledge that the stories themselves, and not the authors, were what was disappointing me. Here is why:

Every day I was living hardship. I was facing depression and sadness and pain. I was choosing to believe that God loved me just as I was, and that He would give me the strength to overcome adversity. The hope I was learning in the gospel, that God saw my suffering and cared, was becoming deeply ingrained in my mind. So much so, one could say it was my new reality. So when I read fiction and didn’t see a redemptive story such as the one I was living in real life, I was sorely disappointed.

One of the greatest casualties of fantasy in our culture is the death of self-worth. We forge our identity via celebrities and when we don’t fit the mold, we start to believe the lie that our lives don’t have as much meaning. Now maybe you are reading this and don’t feel that you have that problem. Let me give a few practical examples of how fantasy contributes to catastrophe in every day life.

I have a friend and co-worker who was blatantly told her career was impaired because she chose not to wear makeup every day to the office. She has been passed over for promotions over and over again. Every so often I see her wearing makeup and I cringe. Why can’t she be judged by the quality of her work rather than the amount of eyeliner she applies?

My mother-in-law finally procured her masters degree but was unable to find work after she was laid off. Her age was a prohibiting factor. Why do we perceive the young as the only viable employees in the workforce? Could it be because the images on our screens don’t celebrate older people as strong contributors? Is that why I have to watch videos at work that teach me to renounce age discrimination?

If you think these examples are not indicative of the power of fantasy in our culture, I would beg to disagree with you. Why else are obese people treated so poorly and as failing at life? Those who live the “before” picture but never realize the “after” live with a painful stigma not unlike Hester Prynne in “The Scarlet Letter”.

But I think the most powerful example of fantasy and its impact on culture is indicative of the divorce rate in America. People have so come to believe that marriage is binding only so long as a couple is fond of each other that we are abandoning our marriages in droves. Why stay faithful once the feelings have fled? Every song on the radio says as much. Hearts are breaking all over town tonight because we bought the Cinderella story hook, line and sinker. “Happily ever after” is a myth and has no basis in reality. So why are we paying Disney to feed it to our children day after day?

A new incarnation of the story, “It” by Stephen King released in theaters recently and I remembered how it once haunted my imagination. I read the story and watched the original television version in the early 1990’s. Never before was a story about fearful fantasies so fully realized. The creature preys on children, feeds on hate, and deceives with images of the victim’s worst fears. Every time I see a trailer or advertisement, I cringe. A new generation is primed and ready for vicarious thrills they receive while evading true victim-hood. But I would like to suggest that they are in reality still victims. They believe the lie that the story will not harm them. They believe they are not dying; that they are safe. They believe, as I once did, that they can walk away from the theater and not be harmed. But the truth is potent; stories implant ideas and ideas have consequences.

Human beings are consumers and if we do not consume the right things, they consume us.

Christ came to set us free from fantasies, but He cannot set us free if we are still clinging to them.