Peanut Butter Cups, Bilbo and God

Every one has a goal weight, and if they tell you don't then either they are lying sacks of crap, or they are one of those skinny people who don't have to think about their weight or what they look like ever. (If its the latter type of person then I suggest blind-folding and kidnapping them, , driving to the woods and dropping them off with the scent of beef jerky rubbed all over their person. Just sayin', but I digress). I have a beautiful shiny goal weight in my head, and when I attain said goal my life will be filled with an amazing sense of accomplishment and that slightly fuzzy raidient glow that glosses over the perfect life kind of image. To reach my goal weight I would have to lose 70 lbs. Ya, 70 of them. And each of them want to hang on with tenacity! I'd love to beat them, love to lose them all and drop kick each inindividual pound to the curb, then I would stand victoriously upon the summit of the weight goal mountain. (Scratching records sound) But that's just way more work then I am willing to do. Even tho all those extra 70 lbs. are evil, they are my friends and they like all the same foods that I do. We are great enablers. (Hey enabling, told you that it comes naturally to me). So I guess instead of looking at the work involved I need to look at the motivation. What's my motivation? And as I introspect that is where the crux of the matter lies.....


 I DON'T HAVE ANY!!!!!!! 


Or will power, or self control. There is a seriously big problem here with my psyche. Part of it comes down to Spiritual discipline, because self-control is a fruit of the Spirit. I have struggled with this truth many many times. The Lord gives us all of the fruits of the Spirit when we love Jesus and give Him free reign in our hearts, so why Lord am I SERIOUSLY lacking this one? I'm patient, I'm kind, I'm gentle, I have peace, there is a factor of zero where self-control is concerned. Am I broken? Am I in terrible habitual sin? I am sure there's some one out there who has that perfect nugget of wisdom for me that will make it all click in my head and heart and I will then attain the goal of self-control. Yes, that must be it, and I just haven't heard that piece of truth yet. But I have a feeling that I already know the truth, that prickly feeling I get when I think of self-control and discipline. 

Y'see, self-control is something that Jesus can't just do for me. We don't work that way. Even if Jesus was willing to go to the cross God wasn't just going to magically put Him there (I mean He's God so He totally could have).  Jesus had to physically answer questions, be physically presant at His beating, and physically walk to Golgotha. Ya, Jesus freaking rules. So with me, its not enough to be willing to have self control, its something that I have to physically do. I physically have to eat food, I physically have to move. Its part of this suckfest we call being human (although this suckfest also includes sex, and chocolate, so being human isn't all bad)... (Oh and yarn, my suckfest also includes large quantities of yarn. Yarn=Love). The idea of me having to actually control myself instead of being given the ability supernaturally chafes me quite honestly. I don't like it, and set myself to be like my 4 year-old and stick my tongue out and say, "No! And you won't make me, so there!" I'm just so mature, aren't you jealous? 

In my 4 year-old defiance I am missing something. And that something is the beautiful gift of the Fruit of the Spirit. I hunker down in my grumpy self and say that whatever lies on the other side of self control is no where near as good as this freaking Reeses peanut butter cup. Once again, that prickly little feeling creeps its way into my chest as I lick the chocolate and peanut butter from my fingers. I know that's a lie. I know that what's on the other side of self-control is supernatural blessings, in an all encompassing way touching every part of my suckfest. I have even had this exact same conversation with myself every year around the most terrible tradition us Americans have ever fathered--the New Year's Resolution. But I never get past this realization. I am never moved to action. Why am I so entirely asinine?? I don't understand myself. So, I think I'll eat another peanut butter cup.  

**Actually pausing to eat said peanut butter cup**

This blog today is not going to have a satifactory ending. I'm in the middle of a story actually. Right before that emotional moment in the story that has spent several chapters building up to the catharsis of our hero (or heroine in my story, thank you very much) this is where my blog today will end. I feel like shouting at my book and saying, "What the eff story?!?!? You were just about to reach an amazing character building moment, or a frustrating set back. But now I'll never know because this is where the story ends!" Ya, I know. Its kinda like if the Hobbit ended right before you knew if Bilbo was going to follow Gandalf and the dwarves or if he was just going to stay in Bag End and smoke a pipe.

 Would I have liked Bilbo if he had just stayed and smoked his pipe (maybe if he offered me some of his pipe we'd be OK)? =D I have an empty sort of feeling that he would have been cool, and a friendly sort of character. But definitely not memorable. But Gandalf chose him because he knew that Bilbo wouldn't just sit on his rear and smoke his pipe (no matter how good the stuff inside of said pipe was). Gandalf knew that Mr.B would get up and follow. Oh how I know that God is my Gandalf (no irreverence meant... Y'know, sorta). He knows that eventually I'll get up and follow Him down this self control/discipline adventure. But, like Bilbo, I am sure going to effing throw my fit and smoke my pipe (not litterally) a bit first. At least I'm played by Martin Freeman. But how long will I throw my fit and smoke my pipe? How far ahead will God-alf get before I move? These are questions I'll just have to sit and smoke on...