I am confronted with my obsession with image. I want to look the part,
whatever part I deem desirable. As a teenager, I would always take books or
homework with me on babysitting jobs. After I would put the kids to bed did I
crack the books? No. I watched television. That is I watched until I heard the parents
approach the house at which time I would turn off the television and pretend to
be absorbed in brainy activity. I repeated this same craziness in college with my roommates. I
wanted to maintain the image of hardworking student. I feared being seen as
lazy.
As I entered my twenties, the obsession with image continued. I wanted to be seen as a healthy eater. I was already in the habit of not stocking the pantry with cookies. Truth be told, my lack of buying sweets was rooted in not wanting people to see junk food in my grocery cart. With my husband, the focus shifted to hiding my sweet tooth. It was not until over a year into our marriage that my husband found out I liked junk food. I used pregnancy as an excuse. He called me a closet sugar junkie and we laughed at how long I had kept it hidden.
I believe these memories are flooding back to me as a Lenten gift. The Holy Spirit is chiseling away at the dark secrets of my soul. We are a week into Lent, and the fast I set out to do . . . well, I am failing. I had to rethink caffeine and have been unable to go cold turkey as initially planned. I actually do believe this is necessary and not a justification to sneak in a cup of coffee. The withdrawal side effects were making it too difficult to be emotionally present with others – not good when that is my job description as a therapist. So, I have a weaning off plan in place with intention to be caffeine free in the next week. That is not the dark secret.
I am failing with my commitment to avoid processed foods – to stay away from junk and only eat clean, raw foods. I sneak nibbles of cookies; looking over my shoulder making sure no one is watching. I feel like a kleptomaniac stealing a trivial item with a wallet full of cash. Stealing for the rush of getting away with it. Sneaking junk for the rush of the secret. Now the secret is out. I sabotage my intentions. I collapse in the face of temptation. I hate my husband for being able to abstain. I am a little annoyed that Jesus did not eat for forty days. I cannot seem to abstain even for good spiritual reasons.
I read a blog yesterday (thanks Ruth Hubbard) talking about Jesus’ parable of wolves in sheep’s clothing and to watch for the fruit that comes to bear. I see myself as the wolf covered in wool as long as I am focused on image. As long as I am seen as a faithful Lenten pilgrim all is good. See my fasting? See my praying? Sounds like the Pharisees. Big religious acts drawing attention to their image of righteous and put togetherness.
One week into Lent and I am learning I am far from put together. In fact, I am a bit of a mess right now. If I peel back the layer of sheep’s wool covering my own eyes I see rotten fruit. And maybe that is the point – awareness to lead to repentance. I have been trying to put myself together. I have been fasting on my own strength (and failing and sabotaging miserably!) That when the temptation grips me I look to myself and find disappointment rather than to Christ who promised to give me strength. Perhaps I stop the insanity and repent of my fierce self-reliance.
As I entered my twenties, the obsession with image continued. I wanted to be seen as a healthy eater. I was already in the habit of not stocking the pantry with cookies. Truth be told, my lack of buying sweets was rooted in not wanting people to see junk food in my grocery cart. With my husband, the focus shifted to hiding my sweet tooth. It was not until over a year into our marriage that my husband found out I liked junk food. I used pregnancy as an excuse. He called me a closet sugar junkie and we laughed at how long I had kept it hidden.
I believe these memories are flooding back to me as a Lenten gift. The Holy Spirit is chiseling away at the dark secrets of my soul. We are a week into Lent, and the fast I set out to do . . . well, I am failing. I had to rethink caffeine and have been unable to go cold turkey as initially planned. I actually do believe this is necessary and not a justification to sneak in a cup of coffee. The withdrawal side effects were making it too difficult to be emotionally present with others – not good when that is my job description as a therapist. So, I have a weaning off plan in place with intention to be caffeine free in the next week. That is not the dark secret.
I am failing with my commitment to avoid processed foods – to stay away from junk and only eat clean, raw foods. I sneak nibbles of cookies; looking over my shoulder making sure no one is watching. I feel like a kleptomaniac stealing a trivial item with a wallet full of cash. Stealing for the rush of getting away with it. Sneaking junk for the rush of the secret. Now the secret is out. I sabotage my intentions. I collapse in the face of temptation. I hate my husband for being able to abstain. I am a little annoyed that Jesus did not eat for forty days. I cannot seem to abstain even for good spiritual reasons.
I read a blog yesterday (thanks Ruth Hubbard) talking about Jesus’ parable of wolves in sheep’s clothing and to watch for the fruit that comes to bear. I see myself as the wolf covered in wool as long as I am focused on image. As long as I am seen as a faithful Lenten pilgrim all is good. See my fasting? See my praying? Sounds like the Pharisees. Big religious acts drawing attention to their image of righteous and put togetherness.
One week into Lent and I am learning I am far from put together. In fact, I am a bit of a mess right now. If I peel back the layer of sheep’s wool covering my own eyes I see rotten fruit. And maybe that is the point – awareness to lead to repentance. I have been trying to put myself together. I have been fasting on my own strength (and failing and sabotaging miserably!) That when the temptation grips me I look to myself and find disappointment rather than to Christ who promised to give me strength. Perhaps I stop the insanity and repent of my fierce self-reliance.
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