Thursday, February 23, 2012

A "William Wallace Lent" - Dave's Deep Thoughts


Here's Pastor Dave McDowell's weekly devotional that he sends out to members of his church. Dave is my brother and serves as the Music Minister at Stewartstown UMC in PA.
I'm not so much a hater.

I just don't want to be a participator....
But make me a gladiator.
Let me explain.

I'm not a big Fat Tuesday fan.
I don't buy into the eat, drink and be merry,
for tomorrow we die mentality.

I prefer the eat healthy, drink plenty of water,
and exercise regularly so that I can live past tomorrow philosophy.
I work in a place where Fasnachts are made
by the hundreds on the Monday before Ash Wednesday.

For the uninformed,
they are a donut like pastry
made of flour and sugar and deep fried in oil.
It comes from the Pennsylvania Dutch tradition
of clearing the household of all such ingredients
so as to abstain from such things during the
40 days of Lent.

Don't get me wrong,
I am like everyone else.

I eat too many cookies at Christmas.
I've been known to take an extra helping of dessert.
I do not boycott birthday cakes.

It's just that I don't get the connection
of ingesting large quantities of fat and calories one day
for the purpose of depriving the same for forty more days
thus finding favor with the creator of the universe.

And so with my will power intact,
off I went to the gym at lunch on Fat Tuesday,
for my 30 minute treadmill run.

Treadmill # 12 to be exact.

You know the one I mean.

It sits at the end of the row,
next to the physical trainers private room.

The door to the room is normally closed.
But today the door was slightly ajar.
It was at .5 miles that I noticed it.
(When on a treadmill,
one has plenty of time to notice lots of things)

Through the opening of the door,
I could see on the table inside the room,
a big bag of potato chips.

Believing fully in the integrity
of a space set aside for health,
and in the integrity of all the trainers within such said space,

I surmised that the chips must have
been confiscated from some
weightlifter gone mad.
And on I ran.

It was at 1.2 miles the the custodian
came by and entered the trainer's room.
That's when I saw the beverages.

The beverage bar........
sodas, sweet teas, punch,
it was all there
complete with ice.

This was no collection of contraband, I realized.
There was a party brewing six feet from treadmill #12
in the trainers room,
and I was the unfortunate witness.

If my gym had been Scotland,
then I was ready to be William Wallace,
prepared to fight as Braveheart
against the infidels of slothfulness and gluttony.

Defiantly,
I raised the incline
and increased the pace,
fully confident that I ran for
all that was noble and good.

It was at the 2.3 mile mark
that the soul of this warrior
was tested to its breaking point.

A trainer entered the gym
with paper bag in hand.

Like a drinker
trying to hide her need within a brown paper bag,
she quickly took the bag
to the trainer's now room of shame,
and closed the door.

But I had seen those brown bags before.
While brown paper could hide the contents,
it could not conceal the telltale sign of grease,
now soaking through the bottom of the bag.
Nor could the paper contain the aroma of freshly baked flour & sugar,
Fashnachts had infiltrated this fair land of health and wellness.

I, William Wallace, of treadmill #12,
had to choose.
Should I run from the battle that I faced,
or should I run into the face of the gluttonous enemy?

Aye, I choose to run for the glory of treadmill #12
Fastnachts may take our lives,
but they will never take our freedom! *

I returned to work after 3 victorious miles,
returning to the smell of grease,
returning to the sound of humanity entering the building
to pick up their Fastnachts,
returning to the aroma of pastry
that seeked to mock my lunch of soup and salad.

Spending the day around Fastnachts
without partaking is not easy.

Neither is living in this world.
Temptations are everywhere,
the obvious and the not so obvious.

To some temptations, we succumb,
to others we triumph.
I don't believe that God expects us to triumph always,
for He knows our weaknesses and our bent to sin.
That's why the 40 day journey of Lent leads to the cross.

What I do believe He expects from His children,
is to live in relationship with Him,
to continually encounter Him,
and to live out our lives as worship
that is a pleasing sacrifice to Him.

You might not feel that you have a warrior heart like William Wallace,
but God wishes to give us hearts that seeks to worship Him.
And when that worship continues to
include all that we think and do,
then we more fully know the heart of God.

May your Lent be a fresh journey to the cross,
and ultimately to the greatest warrior of all,
and to His empty tomb.

I urge you therefore brethren,
by the mercies of God,
to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice,
acceptable to God,
which is your spiritual service of worship.
Romans 12:1
.

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