Avalon, 2:26 AM , wt. 244
Tebow
My weight is going in the wrong direction. On New Year’s Day it was 240 ½ . And of course, looking around for someone else to blame, I come quickly to this church fast log. I know it was my idea to post a daily entry, but you sanctioned it. You knew that I would fall behind, and would have to scramble to get caught back up. I mean, in every one of my fifty-three book projects, that has been the case. At the beginning, I fritter away time, until all margin for error is used up, and I am forced to take heroic measures, to get the project done on time. It has been ever thus.
But I was sure that this time, it would be different. This time – has, alas, turned out like all the other times. And I have been using the added stress of a daily deadline (never mind that it was self-imposed), as an excuse to eat whatever I feel like, whenever I feel like it.
I am not saying anything.
And I am not accusing you – well, not directly. The worst of it is, I know you will help me with extra grace, when and if I choose to stand against my self-indulgence. You always do. And I know you want me to. Not just now, but always. You don’t have to say anything; you have already said all that needs to be said, in your Word: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)
Come to think of it, you did say something to me to that effect, a couple of months ago, when I was lamenting the lack of grace on my morning dialoguing with you. I mean, the grace was still there, but not like, hitherto. Not with that wondrous intensity that makes any day or any situation not just endurable but joyful. Talk about joy coming in the morning! You remember what you said?
In addition to being omnipotent and omniscient and omnipresent, my memory is perfect – unless I choose to forget a repented-of sin.
You said: If you want there to be more of me, there needs to be less of you. I had no response. I looked down, and there was a volleyball in my lap.
All you have to do is make up your mind. Then once you set your will, don’t unset it. And you are right: not only will I help you with commensurate grace, I will ensure that the temptation to abandon your fast will not be more than you can withstand. I will even provide an escape, if necessary.
You already have, in a way. The Patriots will not be playing this afternoon. They have a bye week. So I will not be tempted to nibble as Rome burns.
Pray for your friends in Baton Rouge tomorrow night, when LSU’s fate will have their undivided attention.
Father, this is trivial, but I must pursue it: do you ever take sides in our sporting events? I fondly remember those 1930’s movies, where the sisters unabashedly prayed for Notre Dame.
What happens on the field purports to be a self-contained morality play with perceived good and evil, depending on which side of the stadium you happen to be sitting on. Yet as in life, nothing is ever as uncomplicated as it appears. Shall I reward Tim Tebow for his bold declaration of his faith? Or is he overdue for his first pruning? If I do reward him, and answer the prayers of his faithful following, desperate for a champion, will his exploits continue to provide nothing more than a bully pulpit? Will he dedicate the rest of his life, on the field and off, to serving me? And what of the prayers of the players on the teams he plays against? Especially those who are simply praying that no one, on either side, receives a career-ending injury?
Hmm. . . . I think I will continue to assume that all playing fields are strictly neutral in your eyes.
A wise decision.
V V V
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