And so I have surrendered my food addiction to Him. I have been reluctant, even snarlingly unwilling, to relinquish this. I love food. I enjoy it. I savor it. I anticipate it and plan around it. I depend on it. Which is precisely the problem. God has been gently, firmly, unrelentingly reminding me that I must depend on Him, and Him alone. Food has become my idol, and my idol must be demolished: cast to the ground and pulverized to dust.
I am not capable of this. I have tried and I have failed. I could try the remainder of my days, and even if I succeeded in choosing kale over pizza, even if I succeeded in losing 80 pounds, I would still have failed. Because my goal is not just to be healthy; my goal is not just to be slim. My goal is to be devoted to my gracious and benevolent Lord, and to serve only Him. As long as I am subject to food, I am serving only myself.
It has been a slow slog so far, but that's good. I want to be a living sacrifice, transformed by the renewing of my mind (Romans 12:1-2). And that takes time. The kind of time that requires perseverance. The kind of time that cultivates faith. The kind of time that forges a new road. 'Cause I'm sick of the old one. That one that's littered with lies like "I had a hard day; I deserve a treat" and pockmarked with shame and failed attempts. I'm parting ways with that road. I'm taking the one made through the depths of the sea.
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