Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,
who is in you, whom you have received from God?
I Corinthians 6:19
“I’m addicted to coffee. I can’t start my day without it.”
“I don’t care what they say — chocolate chip cookies should be a part of the basic food groups.”
“I smoke, drink, or do drugs, but take away my Mt. Dew, and you better watch out.”
“I’m Baptist. We eat. That’s what we do.”
It’s a part of all of our lives. Unless we’re fasting, we all partake of at least 2, if not 3 or 4, meal a day. If you’re like me, you not only eat, you enjoy eating. I love food, and I’m not afraid to admit it. I am thankful for a high metabolism (and that whole not being able to digest all of my food due to CF) that allows me to eat more than my husband, who happens to be almost two times my size, and keep my physique. Let’s just say, I can keep up with the boys without a problem.
That can cause a problem, though.
It comes down to this question: Do we eat to live or live to eat.
I tend to do both. If you’re honest, I bet you do, too.
Some days I’m really good, and other days, not so much. Thankfully, I’m getting better and truly believe that I’m honoring God in doing so. Having chronic mono tends to help you organize your priorities, if you are planning on having a normal life and not living in bed for 4 months out of the year.
Yes, it’s true: God cares about what we eat.
A few weeks after John and I got married, we banned processed food (as much as possible) from our home. We introduced whole-grain-everything (you do get used to it). We started cooking more vegetables and stopped eating Hamburger Helper (why can’t healthy food be so cheap?!) and the like. We stopped habitually buying cookies, ice cream and other things we both enjoyed. We started exercising more and feeling much better. A little over a year later, we both firmly believe that our decision to revamp our food choices was one of the best decisions we’ve made in our short-lived marriage.
That doesn’t mean we don’t slip up.
In fact, I’m coming off a gigantic “sugar/junk binge” the past few weeks, and let me say, it’s taken its toll. My work-outs don’t seem as effortless. I’ve gained a few pounds. I just feel sluggish. I don’t want to treadmill. I don’t want to lift weights. In fact, I feel like I want to eat a box of Thin Mints, then polish off some Tagalongs. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget the milk.
It’s back to the drawing board for me.
I’m sometimes a slow learner, but I’m getting better at listening to the Holy Spirit, and my body, and saying “no” when it’s time to stop…or at least admitting I was wrong after-the-fact. The night I downed 1/2 a bag of Doritos (I blame it on withdrawal), after already indulging in probably a half-dozen other not-so-healthy, guilty pleasures during that week (or day — Sunday School had way too many good things to eat), I knew I needed to stop.
My husband agreed. When we both get this way, we blame in on the “Sugar Demon”, when it reality, it’s really our fault.
We’re accountable to God for what we put into our body, His temple.
I’m not one to say you can never have a sweet treat, never drink caffeine or never go “all out”. It is Fat Tuesday, after all. If that was my standard, I’d be a huge failure and the chief of all sinners.
It’s all about moderation and finding our contentment in our position in Christ, not our food.
I’m so thankful that we serve a God of grace, who guides and corrects us for our own good, not because He’s an evil Tyrant in the sky trying to make our lives a living hell. Amen?
Now, I must go. It’s off to Zumba — where working-out is actually fun!