From Root to Fruit: The Fundamental Struggle with Temptation

I know what it is to suffer. I have even enjoyed suffering, and to an extent, being a victim. Years ago I read about a mental disorder called Munchausen syndrome and secretly wondered if I was afflicted because of my flair for the dramatic. Portraying the victim elicited sympathy from those around me and I liked the attention. One day I began to realize that my problems not only caused my friends to be concerned, but also to abandon me. Suffering is exhausting, not only for the sufferer, but for anyone in close proximity.

In that regard, temptation was for me the penultimate source of my suffering. Whatsoever my heart desired I strove to consume. And since my heart was a very dark and twisty place, I can with some clarity recognize that it was a very deceitful organ. For each desire I sated, five more manifested. While chasing each new and salacious longing I only found my hunger gnawing with increasing vengeance. No wonder my internal monologue was a ticker tape parade of despondence.

Someone once told me I was a wimp. It was a word I would never have self-associated with. I thought I was strong. But being stubborn does not necessarily equate strength. In fact, stubbornness is usually a more frequent ally of pride. I am recently learning that my refusal to submit to authority, regardless of how cool it looks in the media, is actually a serious personal flaw. And since my rebellious nature has been influencing my decisions my whole life, it’s pretty doggone difficult to be objective with my story. It’s the reason I have a phoenix tattoo on my back; the penultimate symbol of my youth, or as Frank Sinatra might have sung it, “I did it my way.” I always say I got that tattoo to symbolize my rise from the ashes when the authority figures in my life tried to burn me down. But looking back through the lens of time, I now see a foolhardy girl intent on pursuing frivolities rather than a life of significance or substance or purpose.

And that is how I came to weigh 310 pounds.

The temptation to pursue the desires of my heart when what my heart wanted was a lie is the great tragedy of my life. It wasn’t until I began earnestly seeking out truth that I started to see myself as I was. And to be honest, I wasn’t very impressed.

Make all the excuses you like, gluttony is a curse. I have learned that living by the stomach does not satisfy the soul, but food still tempts me. That which gives life and health is a constant threat. The impulse to salve my salt-water heart with savory substances pulses through my veins. And how does one excise such a fundamental flaw?

I began this journey with little hope for success. I had hoped to make it 30 days without sugar. And I did. So I strove for 30 more. And I’m still striving. I’m still making goals and clinging to a thread of hope that I can maintain the balance necessary to prevent massive weight gain. But interestingly, it’s not really about gaining or losing weight anymore. My journey has truly become a daily struggle to learn how to discipline my body, my mind, and most importantly my heart.

This world has a thousand temptations for the wander-lusting heart, and I have been a master of chasing after many of them. I have dwelled in the dark places where the shadows rule, and I have searched for a light–a flickering hope–that would deliver me from them. And on the days when I feel most lost–most helpless. On the days I forget why I’m fighting, or even worse, when I don’t care, I force myself to stand up and seek out the truth. If my heart is desperately wicked and beyond cure, and if everything inside me is marred and distorted by my traitorous heart, then I must seek something outside myself if I am to be saved. And maybe that something is not a “thing” after all, but rather, a person. And what if that person loves me, traitorous heart and all? So much so that he personally bore all of my indwelling shadows in order to make my treacherous heart clean forever?

Funny, I suddenly find the resounding chaos of my whimsy has dwindled to a whimper. Why? Because Jesus is victor.