Scale is Immaterial

I’ll tell you what. Don’t even try to tell me God doesn’t work little miracles in our lives. I have two pones of mouth-watering cornbread baked, the whole place smells like pumpkin pie, there is country ham in the kitchen, I have ham hocks in the fridge, the just-made cranberry sauce is cooling…and I keep forgetting to eat lunch.

Pounds and Pounds of Pleasure

The pork sausage I made is filling my life with joy.

God miraculously delivered me from gluttony. That means these days I just don’t want as much food as I used to, so I eat less. But the custom of having three meals a day is a threat. I’m not all that active, and three real meals–even if small–can be enough to prevent weight loss or cause gain. That means I have to quit eating a lot at at dinner, which is a meal I don’t particularly want to begin with. So I’m shifting the calories to earlier meals.

I’m not hungry in the morning or at night, so I think I’m going to shift the focus of my food day to lunch. That means I need to eat a respectable lunch. This is where pork sausage fits into the picture. I haven’t been able to have a good breakfast for the longest time; it just doesn’t make sense to stuff myself when I’m not hungry. But now I can have breakfast for lunch! I can use my gorgeous antique skillets, which make the best-tasting eggs imaginable! I just had two fried eggs, two sausage patties, and two pieces of toast, and I even let myself have butter!

That sausage is the bomb. It has no gamy smell, the seasoning is perfect, and it seems like the quality lard I used to bulk it up makes it fry up better than store sausage. It’s funny how simple foods can be better than fancy-shmancy dishes served at expensive restaurants. If you can make a really good cheeseburger, you won’t have the slightest interest in mastering complicated cuisine.

Maybe one reason we overeat is that our food is so unsatisfying.

Hmm…I used to overeat when I was eating really good food. Well, it was a fun theory for the ten seconds during which I entertained it.

I can’t wait to make sausage with apple juice in it. I can do that as soon as I eat the…ten and a half pounds of sausage I already have.

Argghh.

Oh…oh…turducken made with pork sausage made with apple juice instead of sugar…oh…

I need to breathe into a bag for a sec.

Ham for the Holidays

I decided I needed a ham. You know how that is. So I went online to look for one.

My cousin Wade says Col. Newsom’s hams are the way to go, and the one I bought back when I was writing the cookbook was jim-dandy. That’s why I recommended Col. Newsom’s. But their prices are out of whack now. They want $89 for a ham.

I found a couple of interesting options. First, I looked at a Tennessee company. When it comes to ham, I like Tennessee, Kentucky, and North Carolina. I know Virginia is famous for ham, but I’ve never had any Virgina country ham that I thought was worth eating. Tennessee, I have no problems with.

The company is called Benton’s, and they have a very tempting offering. They sell two types of hams. First, relatively young hams. Second, hams aged until they get a little funky. This is what real country ham is. A ham aged six months or less is a fake. It won’t have the complex flavors and the acidity an old ham has. Benton’s sells hams aged 12-18 months. They run around 15 pounds, and they cost $65.

I thought I might give that a shot, but then I came across Scott Hams, in Greenville, Kentucky. Their hams keep winning prizes at the Kentucky State Fair and other festivals and what not. The fair is held in Louisville, which is practically the same as New York by ham standards, but surely there must be a few people there who have a clue. I called them up, and they told me their hams go a year. They said they would be happy to pack the ham the way I wanted it, which means sliced and bagged, with the hock in its own bag. The ham’s price is $48.50, and that’s a 16-pounder. You can’t beat that deal with a stick. I placed my order. I may try Benton’s eventually, regardless.

I just called them again. I was looking at their site, and they sell good Kentucky sorghum molasses. This stuff is nothing like the nasty molasses most people eat. And they’re selling it for $8.00 per quart, which is very reasonable. I put that on my order.

I just did some Googling, and I learned something interesting. The reason most molasses is no good is that it’s real molasses. The stuff they make in Kentucky is made from sorghum. True molasses comes from manufacturing by-products or something. Stuff they sweep off the floor at sugar mills. It comes from sugar cane and sugar beets. Okay, whatever. I guess what I like is actually “sorghum syrup,” although I have never heard anyone call it that.

Kentucky ham producers have gotten smart and started selling their own versions of prosciutto. I’ll bet it’s excellent.

In a couple of weeks I may have to make me a Kentucky breakfast, with fried ham, redeye gravy, cream gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon grease biscuits, and molasses and jelly. And a big glass of tea. And fried apples. And a portable defibrillator.

I gave up gluttony recently, so I guess I’ll have to find a way to make really tiny biscuits.

More

I unpacked my meat grinder, and it has no impeller! My sausage plans must wait until I can get to Northern Tool.

Bring me More Free Stuff

I got appalling news this morning.

I got up and got on the scale and got a very pleasant reading. I weighed myself again a few minutes later to confirm it, and I got the same reading. Before getting in the shower I removed everything I was wearing and weighed myself a third time, expecting a slightly better result. The weight shot up seven pounds! I reset the scale and tried again. No difference!

Looks like my scale is crazy. I have since weighed myself on a balance scale, and it looks like I am seven pounds fatter than I believed. So my recent weight loss has been merely fantastic. Not shocking and extreme.

I can live with that. Fantastic is not bad. I may have to amend my weekly McDonald’s breakfast order, though. I don’t care. It doesn’t mean what it used to mean to me. The good Lord has made portion control extremely easy, so I guess I can do whatever I have to.

Time to toss the electronic scale. I thought they were more reliable than that. Seven pounds is a huge error.

It’s wonderful to know I don’t have to worry about rebound weight gain. For the first time in my life, I don’t have to think about that. What happened to me is better than having the weight disappear instantly. If that had happened, like virtually every dieter who ever lived, I would be a fat person who was temporarily thin. Instead, I was permanently cured of fatness. That means that now I’m a thin person who is temporarily fat. That’s incredible. Once the fat is gone, it can’t return unless I invite it back.

I was thinking about grace this morning. What a hard message to preach. For centuries, we’ve been telling people they were bad because they did wrong, and we’ve been condemning them and even wishing punishment and failure on them. And we thought we were right. “God helps them who help themselves”; isn’t that what we’ve been told? It sounds evil and self-indulgent to say God will fix your behavior for you. But it’s absolutely true.

Think about it. How did Adam live? He was the first person God created, so presumably, his lifestyle tells us what God intended the rest of us to have. What did Adam do for a living? Did he plant corn? Did he slop hogs and cut hay? No. His job consisted of reaching up and picking fruit off trees God had grown for him. That, quite literally, was his livelihood. God did not want him to work, in the sense that we “work” today.

We are not supposed to earn things. We’re supposed to cooperate and obey and have faith. We’re supposed to go to school and get jobs. We’re supposed to try to be good. But it’s not supposed to be drudgery. The work of our flesh is not supposed to make heroes and martyrs of us.

If you earn things, what does it mean? It means you don’t owe them to God. It means you did it yourself. If that describes your belief, what are you? What word describes you? “Righteous”? No. “Proud.”

On the other hand, what if God gives you the strength to behave, and he gives you peace, and he allows you to prosper without working yourself to death? How are you going to feel? Grateful. Unworthy. Somewhat ashamed. What word sums that up? “Humble.” Doesn’t the Bible tell us over and over that God likes humility? Is there anything it condemns more than pride?

God would rather give us things and have us humble than make us earn them and have us proud. I’m sure of it. How else can you explain the crucifixion? God could have given us tasks that would purify us, but he didn’t. He insisted on making it a gift.

God wants us to have his nature. That’s why he wants us to give all the time. God has a compulsion to give. Generosity is a fundamental aspect of his nature. No sane Christian would deny that; it would be blasphemy. If that’s true, aren’t we obligated to humble ourselves and receive? How can God give if we won’t take?

Am I saying God would spoil us? No. What you give people doesn’t determine whether they’re spoiled. Their attitude determines that. Abraham and Job were obscenely rich. Were they spoiled? I wouldn’t dare say so; it would be a slander. On the other hand, we have poor people in America who are horribly spoiled. They wait for the eagle to fly instead of going to work, they do nothing for others, they vote for people who give them other people’s money, they indulge every unhealthy desire they have, and they still say the system is unfair to them. You can’t hurt a humble, grateful person by giving him stuff and doing things for him. On the other hand, an ungrateful, proud person can only be hurt by gifts. That’s why God often withholds things from people he cares about.

I don’t deserve to be thin. I don’t deserve the other types of deliverance God handed to me free of charge. I will never deserve these things. I have sometimes felt that I had to respond to these gifts by trying to be worthy of them, but that’s stupid. I can’t be worthy of them. I still have to be good, but the purpose isn’t to earn anything. It’s to show my gratitude and to acknowledge that sin and iniquity (evil inclinations) can bring these things back on me.

I am a charity case. I am not a hard worker who earned a just wage. I am receiving welfare and food stamps from God, because I am incapable of taking care of myself. I have nothing to be proud of.

I’m politically conservative, but you could call me socialist in my religious beliefs. Man’s socialism, imposed by governments, is evil. It’s a vile mimicry of the pure, right socialism of the kingdom of God, which is based on voluntary participation by individual believers motivated by the Holy Spirit. I resent giving money to wasteful government programs that addict the poor to handouts and teach them to be proud and weak. I am grateful for the opportunity to donate to the church and religious charities. The money is not the issue. The issue is whether a charity is secular or God-guided. The second type is a fountain of blessings. The first is a money toilet.

Look, Jesus said his yoke was easy and his burden was light. Was he a liar? Seriously, would he lie to us about that? Am I supposed to go on pilgrimages, crawling up and down the streets with bloody knees and a cross on my shoulder? Should I abstain from marriage? Should I beat myself with a flagellum and wear a hair shirt? I don’t think so. I think actions like those are rooted in pride, regardless of how they may look on the surface. I think I’m supposed to be thrilled with what I received and that I should try to help other people receive it. I’m supposed to enjoy the good things I get, without letting them become more important than the one who gave them to me or the other people he wants to help.

If we spend our time yammering at people who misbehave (as I have), telling them how awful they are, we hold ourselves out as superior, which is wrong and counterproductive. The way they are now doesn’t matter. It passes away when they accept Jesus and get filled with the Spirit and begin to get free of their demonic bondages. We need to be telling them that their problems are caused by sin and lack of faith, that they are surrounded by invisible enemies much stronger than they are, that they can be fixed right here on earth, and that it doesn’t matter what they’ve done in the past.

The Bible compares us to unfired pots that have been marred. You wouldn’t throw one out; the clay can be reshaped. It’s stupid to fixate on the defects, because they’re curable and have no relationship to the quality of the final product. And when the repair process begins, you don’t get upset over setbacks. You don’t worry that it takes time, and that it’s a gradual process. You know it will work, so it doesn’t matter if it’s not instantaneous. These things are true, so how can condemnation be a good idea? Warning, sure. Condemnation? Probably not.

It’s so easy for the enemy to fight this message. Our consciences agree with him. They tell us we can’t expect to be spoon-fed and pampered. It feels so righteous when we claim we need to work real hard and bleed and suffer and deny ourselves. But there’s nothing righteous about it. It’s evil. You are not supposed to obey your conscience. It makes mistakes. You’re supposed to obey God.

Many times, God commanded the Jews to ignore their consciences. He forbade them to pity the people he had selected for death or punishment. Under Joshua, the Hebrews had to slaughter children and pets and old people. What you think is right isn’t what matters. Fortunately, we don’t have to do things like that any more. But we do need to give up the idea that we have to earn things from God, using our own strength as the primary means. God is like power steering. We provide a little bit of strength–in faith–and he provides the rest. Admit your faults, repent, fast, and pray. Fight your demons God’s way. They will lose, and you will change.

The enemy hates this message because it provides acceptance and hope, and because it’s based on the reality that evil spirits exert control over most people, not just a few. We can run these spirits off and experience greater self-control and happiness; then we’ll be able to help others do the same things. That’s what we’re supposed to do. Jesus told us to preach the gospel, heal the sick, and cast out demons. If you’re casting out demons, you’re overthrowing Satan’s kingdom. It’s a revolution, and Satan is being deposed. He’ll do anything he can to shut this message up, and he has pretty much succeeded for almost 2000 years. I believe we are now seeing a reawakening, and that grace–God’s unearned help–is going to set hundreds of millions of people free from sin, disease, and curses in the coming years. I think the war has resumed in earnest.

One test of the validity of a doctrine is the anger it stirs up in well-meaning Christians who cling to error and live in failure. If you don’t make the blind guides furious, your message is probably just making things worse. The enemy has always killed and persecuted those who told the truth. He doesn’t usually crucify his servants. He loves opposing the truth from within the church. Many prophets have been killed by believers instead of heathens. Believers tried to push Jesus off a cliff on the first day of his ministry. The Romans had no interest in him until some of his own people demanded that he be killed.

I can see why the Bible predicts increased persecution toward the end of the age. This message is getting more popular, and it has always drawn a violent response.

Bigger Pantry Needed

I guess people get tired of reading things like this about the food I make, but…the sweet pickles I made turned out to be the best I’ve ever had. Even better than my grandmother’s. I can’t believe pickles can be this good. After a day in the fridge, the salt and seasonings did their thing, and the result was magnificent. Now I’m worried about having these things around. Dills are virtually calorie-free, but sweet pickles are loaded with sugar. I was miraculously delivered from gluttony back in August, but that doesn’t mean I need to tempt myself.

I’d post the recipe, but it came from a cookbook, so you ought to just get the book. Besides, I’m sure there are a million similar recipes on the web. I omitted the onions from the book receipe, and I used white sugar instead of brown. Other than that, it’s exactly what you’ll find in Shuck Beans, Stack Cakes, and Honest Fried Chicken.

Church was amazing last night, and this morning, I got a startling answer to prayer. Unfortunately, I can’t describe it in any detail, because it involves another person’s private business. All I can say is this: when you know someone whose behavior is atrocious, and you want to change it, fasting and prayer will give you surprising results. People have free will; no doubt about it. But that doesn’t mean God won’t work his persuasive powers on them. Besides, some bad behavior is due to demonic oppression, and your fasting can clear that up in another person.

This morning it occurred to me that I should always attack problems spiritually before acting in my own strength. I can’t say all problems are rooted in spiritual causes, although maybe they are. I can say that all problems should be attacked via spiritual warfare before we step in and screw things up with our blind bumbling. I think maybe this was what Jesus was getting at when he talked about turning the other cheek and so on. It wasn’t so much that it’s good to be a loser. His point, I think, was that your first response to hostility or adversity should be spiritual, not fleshly. Maybe I’m wrong. Either God put this stuff in my head, or it’s wrong, and I came up with it myself.

Last night at church, I told my pastor and one other person that things are going so well for me now that I don’t have any real problems. I have relatively trivial difficulties, but nothing major. I said that these days, it’s the people around me who have problems. They’re the ones I think I need to apply the bulk of my energy to. I may have sounded arrogant when I said all that. I certainly hope not; I was trying to comment on God’s goodness to me.

Here’s a funny thing about Christianity. When you talk about the great things God is doing for you, other people may take it as boasting. We’re all trying to get our lives sorted out and walk in blessings, so when someone else does well, it may seem like that person thinks he’s a better Christian than you. That’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m just saying…this stuff is WORKING.

The Psalms say, “My soul shall make her boast in the Lord. The humble [or ‘needy’] shall hear thereof and be glad.” That seems to indicate the intelligent and constructive way to receive another person’s good news. If someone else gets something good, the smart thing is to try to find out what they did right.

I guess I was wrong to get up and do the Church Lady Superior Dance during the altar call. That, I regret.

I forgive the lady who sacked me and sat on me until the ushers arrived with the wheelbarrow. I wish I knew her name so I could return her weave. I probably shouldn’t be using it to dust my CD collection.

One of the funny problems I have right now is that my weight loss has made my skin break out. The weight loss has irritated my gall bladder, and the end result is slight skin problems. I guess I can live with that. It’s not like I have leprosy. Fifteen or twenty pounds from now, the weight loss should stop, and then I’ll be at equilibrium, so the stress to my body should go away.

Gall bladders are catch-22 organs. If you get fat, you become susceptible to gall bladder trouble. If you lose weight, during the process, you’re likely to have gall bladder flare-ups. Your gall bladder wants you to stay fat so it never gets well. Presumably, when I’m no longer fat or losing weight, I’ll be just fine.

I started taking a disgusting daily tonic of lime juice, olive oil, and oil of oregano, and I feel a whole lot better. And it gives me a use for my gigantic supply of fresh limes. Oil of oregano is loaded with terpenes, which are supposed to be hard on gallstones. It amazes me that medical science has absolutely no effective treatment for gall bladder disease. They know virtually nothing about preventing it. They don’t even try. I guess jerking gall bladders out at $5000 a pop is just too easy. Medical science has decided God made a mistake when he gave us gall bladders. They used to feel the same way about tonsils and appendices, but that’s changing. Bodies are like cars. I trust the engineers who design cars more than a slackjawed mechanic who tries to fix them.

New Milestone

Yesterday I felt like McDonald’s was getting an unhealthy grip on me. I decided to forgo my usual Saturday McMuffin breakfast. I felt led to do that. Today I got up, and THREE MORE POUNDS WERE GONE. I’m down over twenty.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. I can’t believe it! Don’t even try to tell me this isn’t supernatural. For months, I’ve been losing weight because I’ve had the God-given willpower to eat like a normal person instead of a food addict. But yesterday, the fat just plain fell off, with no explanation. I’m within TEN POUNDS of my goal. If I can take another five pounds off after that, I’ll be almost as thin as I was when I boxed.

I don’t know why I talk in terms of goals. I’m not doing this in my own effort. I don’t know where it’s going to stop. But I have a weight I hope I reach.

Everyone thinks I’m a kook, so I’ll continue being honest and adding fuel to the fire. I think uncontrollable weight gain (the kind most fat people have) is imposed on us by demons. I strongly suspect that a typical fat person has more than one spirit working against him. And I think they depart in stages. The toughest, meanest one is the one that puts the first twenty pounds on you. That one is nearly impossible to get rid of. You can overcome the other ones in your own strength, but the primary one will stay and fight, and it will beat you over and over. When it beats you, the others come back, and they like to bring new friends. I seriously believe that. I think this is what Jesus referred to when he talked about a spirit returning to a clean house and bringing seven spirits worse than itself.

When you get what low-carbers call a “whoosh,” which means a sudden loss of several pounds, it probably means one of your enemies just gave up and left. This is warfare, and warfare works that way. When you lose, you give up positions one by one, until the enemy is in your country. Whatever has been oppressing me is losing, and I am taking ground in steps. Like the Hebrews under Joshua. First Jericho, then Ai, then the rest of Canaan.

I think these things get power over us because of the way we and our ancestors act. We say horrible things. We do horrible things. Demons get permission to afflict us, and God doesn’t listen when we ask for help, because we haven’t repented. Then we and our kids end up with persistent, seemingly hereditary problems like alcoholism, food addiction, divorce, failure in business, and violence.

If you decide a little bit of sin is okay, and you carve out a place for Internet porn, gluttony, drunkenness, greed, anger, workaholism, vanity, arrogance, self-righteousness, or some other failing, you leave the front door open, and you don’t know what will come in. You can’t say, “I’ll be 95% pure, because that’s pretty good.” That’s like trying to stay six weeks pregnant forever.

I have control over what I eat. I have sexual self-control. I have also been delivered from unjustified anger, although it keeps trying to get back in. My deliverance wasn’t just a fat thing. It’s not a mystery illness. I don’t have cancer. It hit several areas. Please don’t try to tell me I did it, or that I lost weight because fasting days dropped my average daily calorie intake. That wouldn’t explain sexual self-control. Those explanations are all filthy, stupid lies. I could not do all these things for myself. I don’t know how. I wasn’t particularly upset about being fat. I wasn’t lying on my face praying about it all day. God picked this time to deliver me, for reasons of his own. It came as a complete surprise.

And it’s going to spread to even more areas. Hopefully, it will spread to other people.

Every morning, I take communion, and I search myself for bad acts (sin) and bad attitudes (iniquity), and I confess it and repent and ask God to drive it out. I think this is the correct purpose of communion. It’s not really the blood of Jesus. It’s not really his flesh. There is no miracle change. Come on; flesh and blood do not taste like crackers and wine. Jesus was not a cracker. The miracle–which truly is miraculous, because the means is supernatural–is deliverance from problems you and your ancestors have imposed on you through rebellion and ignorance. This is why communion can bring physical healing. Illness is often the result of sin and iniquity. God does punish people physically. He did it in the Bible, and he does it now. Why would he change?

I am not stating all of this as fact, althought the parts supported by the Bible are definitely true. This is how I see things now. I am no authority, but my experiences bear out these observations. If it all rings true to you, take it up in prayer and see if you get what I’ve gotten.

This week someone tried to tell me these good things happened to me because I was special to God. I corrected that revolting lie in a hurry. It’s not because I’m special. It’s because he’s special. Anyone can have what I have.

Here’s what I think you have to do.

1. Accept salvation, properly, giving yourself completely to God.
2. Get baptized in water, to acknowledge your salvation before other people.
3. Get baptized with the Holy Spirit.
4. Pray every day with your mind.
5. Pray every day in tongues, as much as you can make yourself. The Bible says this builds you up, and I have found it to be true.
6. Take communion often, searching yourself for sin and iniquity, confessing and repenting on your own behalf and on behalf of your ancestors, and asking God for deliverance. Never stop. Never decide you can tolerate a chronic sin or a bad inclination.
7. Fast and pray often, and when you fast, make sure you spend a good deal of time praying for the things from which you need deliverance.
8. Give to ministries and the poor, and to help the Jews and Israel.
9. Try to be good.

If you can do all that (pretty easy), I think you’ll have such a powerful foundation, the rest will take care of itself. I know there is more to Christianity than this, but I found that doing these things got God working in my life, and that caused the other things to get done. I found myself reading the Bible, going to church, listening to good teaching, reading helpful books, and so on.

If you can’t do it all, do steps 1-5. If you blow a day, start again the next day. If steps 1-5 are too much to ask, you are beyond help, because you won’t help yourself.

Think of this as your fallback position. Your base camp. This is as far back as you will let the enemy push you; you will always do this much, even if you don’t do anything more. If you can hold this line, you will end up taking ground sooner or later. You will end up doing more and seeing blessings in your life. I really believe that.

Use a timer to make sure you spend enough time in private devotion. You can spend three minutes a day praying in the Spirit, surely. You can spend five minutes praying with your mind, and five reading the Bible. Start with what you can do, and later, you’ll have the character to do more. Start with a mustard seed and water it daily. It will get bigger. Don’t expect it to happen instantaneously, although sometimes you’ll get huge, instantaneous leaps in progress. Your direction is more important than your location. Never forget that. At one point in Columbus’s first trip to the New World, his ship was three feet from a dock in Spain. That’s the nature of a journey. It shouldn’t discourage you. And it shouldn’t bother you if you get pushed backwards once in a while. That happens to everyone.

Jesus told his disciples to preach the gospel, heal the sick, and cast out demons. These were the right things to do two thousand years ago, and they’re the right things to do now. If believing him makes me a kook, so be it. I will be a thin and healthy kook, and lots of Christians who disagree with Jesus will be fat and miserable.

No Biscuit Today

I love my weekly McDonald’s breakfast. I got in the habit back when I observed “fat day.” I limited my calories during the week, and then on the weekends, or just Saturday, I ate whatever I wanted. You can lose weight this way, but if you’re not careful, one day of gluttony can overcome six days of starvation, and you’ll add fat.

I don’t do fat day any more, but I still like to have my Mickey D’s on Saturday morning. My yankee uncle taught me that ketchup and eggs go together, and when I eat McMuffins and McDonald’s biscuits, I dip them in ketchup, and it’s heavenly. The rest of the week, I eat senior citizen fiber cereal, to avoid becoming a colonic casualty. Cereal is okay, but it’s not exciting.

Today I decided not to go to McDonald’s. Just because I had the power to say no. God delivered me from gluttony, and I’ve lost a lot of weight, but I’ve eaten a little more than I should on Saturdays, and I’m afraid I may have plateaued. I’m not having that. I want to lose thirteen more pounds. For the first time in my life, I have complete control over what I eat and drink, so I’m flexing my muscles and saying no.

I feel like I’m showing off, spiritually. Not to you, but to myself. It’s almost a snotty thing to do. I’m confident there are little beings assigned to me to make me overeat, and this is my way of shouting, “In your FACE.” I would rather enjoy that than have the food. Yesterday my sister said she wanted to get ahold of a demon some day so she could beat the tar out of it. What Christian hasn’t felt that way? I wish I could pummel one, too, but for now, I am enjoying frustrating them by not gorging.

I don’t care if I ever have another McMuffin. I suspect I will. I think you can bet on that. But if I don’t, I do not care. God has made McMuffins my McFootstool. I got something better than McMuffins.

Which is really saying something.

I picked up some canning equipment yesterday. It was either that or throw out a great number of hot peppers. I’m going to try to can them today. When you can stuff, you can do it at 212° for acidic foods or 245° for non-acidic foods. Acid keeps botulism down; if you don’t have acid, you need high temperatures to kill the spores. I don’t want to put vinegar in all my peppers, because it will affect the flavor when I use them in food. That means 245°, so I’ll have to use a pressure cooker.

I already had a pressure cooker, but it’s an expensive Magefesa with a small bottom. Not great for canning. I picked up a much cheaper Presto yesterday. I doubt it will get as hot as the Magefesa, but it will be fine for canning.

It amazes me that I found this stuff locally. No one cans in Miami. Everyone in Kentucky does it. There are some foods you pretty much have to can for yourself, if you want to have them at all. Pickled beans. Canned pork sausage (way better than it sounds). Sweet pickles that beat the daylights out of store brands. My grandmother and aunt and lots of other female relatives canned stuff. Some men up there can, too. Women aren’t the only ones who like food. Anyway, canning supplies would be easy to find anywhere in rural Appalachia, but finding them in Miami…that’s shocking.

The place I went to is called Goodman’s. I found it on Ebay, and I noticed they were in Miami, so I saw no point in doing mail-order. They were very helpful. The girl who took my order even carried my jars to the truck!

I think I’m supposed to get a special chemical to keep stuff crisp. Calcium chloride or something. Other than that, I’m all set.

My dad and my sister will be all excited. They miss home-canned stuff as much as I do. I can’t wait to try my hand at sausage. I loved that stuff. I thought I’d never see it again.

The jars are insanely expensive. I suppose intelligent people amass collections and take good care of them. I got 24 half-pints and 12 pints. I don’t think quarts are practical for me. Maybe if I start making tomato juice. If I could find ripe tomatoes, I could make incredible tomato sauce. Maybe I can use grape tomatoes. They’re fantastic, and they’re fairly cheap at Costco. Cheap enough to justify the effort.

I got a couple of pepper recipes. We’ll see how it goes. If it works out, beans and sausage and pickles won’t be far behind.

Food Seems Big

Today I had a new experience. I went to a restaurant, and when it was over, the waiter asked if I wanted him to box up the remainder of my food.

“The remainder of my food.”

My food never had a remainder before! I didn’t know what to do with it. I decided to let him stick it in a box. I felt like a woman. What man brings half-eaten food home from a restaurant?

The weight loss continues. I can turn down bread. I can turn down fries. All these foods that used to be stronger than me…they roll over and give up.

I am reminded of a story the psychologist Fritz Perls told. A violinist came to him and complained that he had cramps and discomfort while he played. Perls watched him play, and he saw the problem. The man was standing with his legs crossed, so his body was contorted. Perls made him stand up straight, and he found himself playing without discomfort. He started to cry, saying, “I won’t believe it. I won’t.” In an instant, his life was changed.

God confirms himself over and over and over, but the more blatant he is, the harder I find to accept what he has done. I’m down about 17 pounds now, and there is no end in sight, and it’s such a beautiful gift, a little voice in my head keeps telling me it can’t be true.

I had something really strange happen last night. A guy from church–his name is John–called on very short notice and said he needed some help with a business function in Fort Lauderdale. You can imagine how much interest I had in this, but Christians help each other, right? And he does all kinds of things for the church, and he was in a bind. So I got it together and drove up there. I had to borrow a car because the truck’s “check engine” light was on.

It was raining. I mean torrential rain. The kind of rain you only see in Florida and Texas. Cars were creeping. And I was all dressed up. I had put on some of my expensive lawyer duds. I was very worried that I’d ruin the jacket, walking in that downpour. The rules say that when you have a problem, no matter what it is, you pray. So I did. I prayed that the rain would stop before I got out of the car.

When I was less than half a mile from the hotel where the function was taking place, the rain was still hammering I-95. John called and informed me that there was a parking garage, so I wouldn’t get wet. That was a relief. Then I took the exit and turned right…and the rain had stopped. I looked at the windshield of the car, and I couldn’t find one new drop of rain. Looking out at the road, I saw a few drops landing here and there. I didn’t know what to do. I heard myself tell God that it would be a better story, for his testimony, if the rain stopped completely. And it did. And I didn’t need it! There was a garage!

That really happened. I should have said, “While you’re at it, how about filling the trunk with hundred-dollar bills?”

After the function, I got to talk with John and a couple of other people from church. They started talking about going to the gun range. Why is it all Christians shoot? We also talked about my cookbook. I enjoyed it a great deal. It’s okay to be the lone kook in the crowd, but sometimes you want to be with the other kooks.

I hope I get to shoot with them. While roasting a pig and using machine tools. That would pretty much combine everything I like.

The Belt of Truth is Too Big

Today I have to go shopping. I have to give up on my size 34 Old Navy cargo shorts. They are too danged big. They’re going to charity.

They’re not really 34″ shorts. I would guess they’re more like 36s. Retailers know fat people like to pretend to be smaller than they are, so sometimes they put misleading labels on their clothes. Still, I am swimming in these things, and it’s getting on my nerves. I also need to replace my aging Abercrombie & Fitch 34″ belt. I’m on belt loop number six, and there are only seven. A couple of months ago, I was on three. Now the loose end flaps around when I walk. On top of that, between the belt loops, the waistbands of the shorts are sneaking out and wandering around because they don’t fit where they used to.

It’s all God. I haven’t done much of anything. I don’t have the old craving for carbs and grease, so now I can choose what I eat, without fighting an addiction every time. I still want food, but when I have a choice to make, the ratio of willpower to desire is much, much higher than it used to be, so I win consistently.

I think there are stages of iniquity and bondage. If you weigh 800 pounds, it’s pretty easy to get down to 300. It’s harder to go from there to 200. If your proper weight is 170, the last thirty pounds will be impossible to lose, or nearly so, and if they come off, they’ll jump back on in one month of backsliding.

This stuff is spirit-driven. I have no doubt of it. Jesus was referring to diet rebound, among other things, when he said that when an evil spirit leaves a man, it wanders, returns, and brings seven worse spirits with it. I seriously believe this is why there are plateaus in weight loss. The really stubborn enemies keep the final pounds on you. The wimpy ones are not hard to beat.

I don’t care who thinks I’m crazy. Bondage is bondage, whether it’s cocaine or cheeseburgers. Don’t tell me people get up over 400 or 600 or 800 pounds simply because they’re lazy. When you let something that terrible happen to you, you have a major, major problem. If it were just a laziness issue, in most cases, the sight of the blubber in the bathroom mirror would be sufficient to motivate people to change. I’m sure there are some people who are too sorry to care, but lots of fat people live in utter misery and would do almost anything to fix themselves. At my worst, I’ve probably been 55 pounds overweight, and it drove me up the wall.

I brought the bondage on myself. I ate like a pig, and I had other problems, like self-righteousness and unforgiveness and selfishness and general backsliding.

My big problem now is that I eat so little, I tend to eat a higher proportion of unhealthy food. Last night I came home from the prayer meeting, and I decided I absolutely had to have a Coke. So I got one, and I drank it, and I ate half of a big Hershey bar with almonds. In the morning, I ate a small bowl of fiber cereal that tasted like fiberglass insulation, and in the afternoon, I had a Granny Smith with some peanut butter. Those things were okay, but the Coke and the candy were not optimal choices. It happened because I didn’t fix dinner; the prayer meeting got in the way. I need to plan better.

My blood pressure is going to drop. I’m going to feel lighter. My gall bladder and digestive tract will be healthier. My blood sugar will not be an issue. My knees won’t be stressed. Doctors will consider my visits a waste of time. I’ll be able to move without my gut getting in the way. If I ever had circulatory issues, I can forget about them now. I’ll look a whole lot better. This is an astounding gift. Surely you can forgive me for writing about it all the time.

It would be great if I had a dramatic story about being deaf and blind for twenty years and then suddenly being healed. It would be wonderful to be able to say I was delivered from a meth addiction after living behind a dumpster for a decade. I know fat isn’t as exciting. But this is magnificent! There are no words big enough to express my gratitude and amazement. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t earn it. It was dropped on me like a pallet of airlifted MREs.

I wonder if I’m going to be able to help anyone else get this, or something like this. I wonder if anyone will be impressed enough to listen. If it will work for fat, shouldn’t it work for lust, greed, drugs, booze, violence, compulsive spending, chronic anger, racism, and other types of bondage? Why not? Fat is a pretty tough nut to crack. Getting over it is no joke. People die from gluttony every day, and they don’t want to. It’s a powerful thing.

I think I know why I’ve had so little success in talking to other people about God. The main reason is probably that I was such a phenomenal idiot, I made an unacceptable representative. But now that I’m cleaned up a little, he seems to be bringing people to me. Maybe I’m less embarrassing than I used to be. And the fat thing is a tremendous selling point. Nobody wants to hear from a Christian whose life is messed up. If it hasn’t worked for you, why would I expect it to work for me? Now I have a triumph to point to. In fact, I have a number of things. I haven’t listed all of them here. If I have something that will make people jealous, maybe they’ll be more inclined to try to get it.

I would have serious doubts about listening to a preacher who was obese, or who smoked cigarettes, or who routinely said mean things, or who had a mountain of debt. Anything like that. If you can’t win, how can you teach other people to win? If you don’t realize you have a problem, how can you identify other people’s problems? On the other hand, I would not want to hear from a guy who was born perfect (with one obvious exception) and who had a trouble-free life. If you haven’t been oppressed, you don’t know what other people go through. And your skills for fighting oppression may not be strong. Some people who have no major problems are in serious trouble. Their problems exist. They just haven’t manifested themselves yet. When people like that crash, they’re probably like bubble kids without immune systems. Like Nebuchadnezzar, who went insane and grazed like a cow for seven years.

Mmm…cows…steak.

I guess one cheeseburger won’t hurt me.

Nor for the Cheesecake that Flyeth by Day

Back in August, after a fast, I experienced an odd result. I no longer felt compelled to overeat. I had fasted many times in the past, but this change was unprecedented. It had nothing to do with my stomach shrinking or any other physical explanation. And I also found I had more peace, and that I had new and near-perfect self-control in some other areas of my life.

I believe I was under the influence of hostile spirits. Robert Morris says that when we have an evil inclination, it may be demonic, and that it may occur because of our sins or the sins of our ancestors. At that stage, it’s an “iniquity.” When it becomes uncontrollable, it’s a “bondage.” That appears to be what happened to me. I could beat it temporarily, but it always came back.

My dad has a terrible weight problem. My sister has had her struggles. My dad’s sister is worse than either of them. These things go after the children of families they know to have vulnerabilities.

Yesterday I got worried because before lunch, I grabbed a half-empty pint of ice cream and finished it. Breakfast had consisted of a small bowl of cereal, and I was hungry. I wondered if I was asking for trouble. A little voice in my head told me my victory over gluttony was a delusion. It reminded me of the big meal I had cooked on Saturday.

At lunchtime, I wasn’t very hungry, but I had to have something, because I was feeling a little weak. I decided to have a PBJ. I started to think about all the calories in the peanut butter. I decided to use one slice of bread instead of two, so I could make a half-sandwich. And I didn’t feel the old familiar internal urging, telling me to go ahead and have the whole thing because I had been good all week.

When dinner time rolled around, I realized I wasn’t hungry enough to make cooking worth the trouble! So I skipped dinner.

Today I got up and weighed myself. I’m down two more pounds! I’ve crossed another “zero threshold.” You know what I mean. Every time you go past a zero, like from 230 to 229, it’s a threshold. “If I could only be under 200 again.” “If I could only be under 150 again.” If you’re fat, this is how you fantasize.

Overeating was a major problem for me. I could control myself well enough to avoid obesity, but that was about it. In fact, I sometimes crossed the line into obesity. It was a royal pain. My face got big and wobbly. My pants always felt like they were cutting me in two. I felt uncomfortable when I exercised. I was about as attractive as Jabba the Hutt in a wig. I can’t believe it’s gone. I have been supernaturally delivered from it.

I’d give anything to get the same thing for my dad. I don’t want him to spend his remaining years putting up with something that ruins his enjoyment of life.

The other day I was watching Robert Morris, and he said something fascinating. He listed the three things Jesus told the disciples to do when he sent them out. They were to preach the gospel, heal the sick, and cast out demons. Healing the sick and freeing people from bondage were so important to him, he ranked them right up there with preaching salvation by faith. How many churches limit themselves to the gospel? No wonder life is so hard. Everyone on the planet has demons assigned to him, and only a tiny percentage of us have the tools to break them.

Mentioning demons in a mainstream church is a great way to get funny looks from people, but Jesus dealt with them constantly. Was he crazy? Was he just an eccentric character? No, he was God. If God says there are demons, why do we ignore them? I’ve seen the nasty things with my own eyes. I don’t need to be told they’re real. Why are we embarrassed to talk about them and admit they’re part of our lives?

We’re supposed to be able to alter our inner drives, so obedience comes easier. Once obedience and trust are in play, blessings come. Chastisements stop. A Christian who stops at salvation never gets to the point where God can do all the good things he wants to do. I believe it. I’m seeing it in my own life.

I still have some things I want to get rid of. I want to be less cranky and judgmental. I would like to be more empathetic. I don’t want to trust money more than God. If God can make me stronger than pizza, he can do anything. Surely help is on the way.

As things improve, I become more convinced that I have to watch my behavior. The more power I have over myself, the more blameworthy I am when I screw up. And I think any person who gets delivered attracts the attention of the enemy, and when I stumble, he’ll be there to slip in through the crack I made. He has always had a special hate for me; I remember supernatural attacks and hostile manifestations that took place when I was three and four years old. The Bible says God turns people over to torment when they disobey. There are forces out there working to take this away from me and make me sorry I wrote about it, and I don’t want to help them. I’m trying to remember that I’m on a short leash.

Lately, when I’ve prayed in the morning, I’ve asked God to make me and my family the devourer’s devourers. The destroyers of the destroyer. I want us to ruin his harvest, the way he has ruined ours. I want to be his lice. His cockroaches. His fire ants. His leprosy. His cancer. I want other people to get what I’m getting. This was the mission Jesus started; all the jibber-jabber about being nice and not hitting anyone back is just part of the picture. Without the rest of the plan, it’s garbage. Utterly worthless. You can be the nicest, fairest, most honest person on earth and waste your entire life and live in defeat. If it were about being nice, Jesus could have skipped being born and crucified and allowed us all to become Buddhists.

I feel like we’ve all been ripped off, and it’s time to put a stop to it. There are junkies and alcoholics and perverts out there who can’t help themselves–who genuinely want help–and here it is, waiting for them, and no one knows how to get it to them. If a guy who loves food like I do can put down the fork by God’s grace, even crackheads have hope.

Check out Robert Morris’s stuff and see what you think. It seems like the purest message I’ve seen.

Mere Mortals are Undeserving

Is there anything better than waking up early, spending time in prayer and study, eating a tasty McDonald’s breakfast, and then sticking a prime rib roast in the oven to warm up? If so, it probably takes place in heaven.

I guess I went a little overboard on the prime rib. I bought 10.4 pounds for four people. I figured one rib per person. I wasn’t really hip to the practice of cutting the bones off and tying them to the roast while you cook, so you end up with an easy-carve roast when you’re done. If I had done that, I could have gotten by with a smaller piece of meat. But it’s still, what, a little over a pound per person when you get rid of the bones and the larger bits of fat? Not excessive. Well, maybe a little.

Anyway, it looks better with the bone in it, and the meat next to the bone is really good.

I think two pounds (bone included) is about right for a serving of prime rib or a rib eye steak. The rib eye is the king of steaks, but you can’t eat all of it, so a lot of the weight ends up in the garbage, not in your guests.

I have to get to work on the pie. I’m a little nervous. My recipe–I thought it was in the second edition of my book, but it isn’t–is very good, but because I make it so rarely, I’m not all that proficient with it. And I still have to get lard. The store has disgusting Goya lard, which smells like a hog lot in July. I need El Cochinito. I have a can, but I doubt it’s still usable.

If you’re in Miami and you need El Cochinito, the Winn-Dixie near Ludlam and Bird has it.

Cook’s Illustrated says to sear the the fat side of the meat with a hot pan before you cook it. That’s a lot of work. I’m sure it’s good, but I get fine results by cranking up the heat at the end of the roasting. And I have a MAPP torch.

Here’s something that will make this day a lot easier. I have an apple peeling machine. They run about $25. In a few seconds, it will turn an apple into a peeled and cored coil of pure fruit flesh. That beats spending half an hour peeling apples.

Someone emailed me about Marv and Maynard. They’re still here, squawking to beat the band. I was going to put up a new video to prove it, but I can’t do that until I locate the charger for my camera. Here’s Marv’s most popular video. Please excuse him; somebody taught him some questionable material before his owner cleaned up his own vocabulary.

I am considering getting some 6″ work boots to keep me alive the next time I try to help out with a job at church. The injury to my ankle is still not quite closed. An 8″ boot would have prevented it completely. A 6″ boot would have helped. Hard choice. In any case, the fat is continuing to slide off of me, so I won’t have to buy jeans any time soon.

The Ingredients of a Good Blog Post

My dad wanted me to cook for an old friend who is having a rough time. I went to the store to get ingredients to make stuffed pork chops. Which are unbelievable. They’re in my cookbook.

While I was there, I saw prime rib priced at $12 per pound. This is not an amazing price, but it’s not bad, and the meat was crying out to me from behind the glass, begging me to take it in my loving arms and bring it home with me.

I cracked. You know I cracked. I don’t have to tell you that.

I made the grocery guy go back and find me a new roast that had four contiguous ribs on it, and he hacked one out for me. Then he started trimming the fat and THROWING IT OUT. I put a stop to that in a hurry. I never turn down free fat. It went in the package with the beef. Just because I’ve given up gluttony doesn’t mean I’m going to cook lame food every day. Rib fat is magical. It’s the duct tape of beef.

The meat guys love being ordered around by people who know food. I think it makes them feel appreciated. There was a woman working there, and it disturbed her that I wanted a cut that wasn’t on display. The man…he understood. No surprise there. It’s a rare woman who understands prime beef.

Anyway, I brought this gorgeous piece of prime meat home, and then I was informed that my dad’s friend had not yet confirmed. After the chest pains subsided, I got on the phone and made sure this guy was coming. Although it would have been okay if he had put it off for a week, because that would have given me time to age this magnificent chunk of cow.

I’m going to go salt it down now and rub it with garlic. Tomorrow, it will be fragrant and ready to play.

This was a good move, except for the enormous expense. Prime rib is like boiling water. Anyone can do it. It’s much less work than stuffed pork chops. The pie crust is going to drive me nuts, so I don’t need any other problems.

The baking potatoes were beautiful today, so I grabbed some of those, plus a tub of sour cream.

My dad and my sister both like their meat burned. This is a tragedy, but since the roast has four ribs, I figure I can give them the outer ones. I’m going to cook the meat to 125º inside, and if the beef-incinerators complain, I’ll cram theirs in the microwave. Why not? If I cook it until it’s grey, it will be ruined regardless of how I do it.

Man, this is going to be good. And I got to send a photo of the roast to Mike, so he could eat his liver and be miserable and envious. I owed him that, as a friend.

Here’s how you make perfect prime rib. I’ve done it like twice, but it’s so easy, I’m qualified to tell other people how to do it.

INGREDIENTS

1 prime rib roast, preferably prime (not choice) beef
5-10 crushed garlic cloves
salt

If you have time, dry the beef and put it on a wire rack in your fridge, covered with a clean cotton cloth. If you can keep the cloth above the meat so it doesn’t touch it, do it. Change the cloth daily. Keep the temperature at or below 35 degrees. Give the meat a week if you can.

Three days before you cook it, salt it down well. This will not dry out the meat. Shut up. It won’t. Don’t put a crust of salt on it. I did this once, and it was incredibly stupid and made the meat too salty.

Preheat your oven to 250º. Rub the meat all over with the garlic. Use as much as you want. Butter it, too, if it makes you happy. I think I’ll do that this time! I’m tempted to cook a roast at 225º. I’m sure it would be better.

Put the meat on a broiling pan, cover it with a foil tent or something, and roast it with a probe in it until you get the internal temperature you like. I did 133º last time, in deference to my dad, but this time it’s going to be 125º, which is still higher than I’d like.

When the meat is ten or fifteen degrees below the end temperature, rip off the foil and jack the heat up to 550º. If this makes your broiler turn on, use the highest temperature that doesn’t make it do that. Or leave foil draped over the meat. Or something. Don’t burn it with the broiler. That’s the point. And you may want to do this earlier than fifteen degrees prior to the end temperature. Ten degrees worked okay for me, but as I recall, it was close.

When you cut into this baby, juice is going to pour out. The smell will summon the angels. And it won’t be tough and dry. Pay no attention to “experts” who tell you to cremate it at 325º. I tried that, and it was awful.

Just to remind you, here’s how I bake potatoes. It’s much better than using foil or greasing the skins, which makes them limp and soggy. Preheat your oven to 450º. Scrub your potatoes. Put salt in your hands and rub it all over the potatoes while they’re still wet. Bake them on the top rack for an hour, if they’re under a pound each. Big potatoes go 75 minutes. Try to have something between the heating element and the potatoes so they don’t char. I serve these with garlic butter AND sour cream. And salt.

In other news, Natchez Shooter’s Supply just put out a great sale bulletin. If you’re not a snob who won’t shoot Wolf ammunition, you can do pretty good on 7.62 x 39 and .40 S&W right now.

More

Why do I ever listen to conventional thinkers when they talk about food? The Food Network (usually disappointing) says to cook prime rib at 325º, which is ignorant and positively heinous. On my own, using common sense, I came up with 250º. Now, via Google, I see that Cook’s Illustrated recommends 225º. Those guys are not fools. They don’t pass on gossip and old wives’ tales, like 95% of the professionals. If they say 225º works, you better believe they’ve put it to the test.

Hmm…I’m checking their site, and in 1995, they recommended 200º! I love it.

Now That I Can See Them

This morning I got on the scale. A few weeks back, after a fast, I found I had the ability to control some behaviors that were causing me problems, and one of them was overeating. The abilities have persisted, so I like to get on the scale to see how I’m doing.

I weighed myself and got a certain figure, which was very satisfactory. Then for some reason, I got on the scale again a minute later. The number was 0.8 pounds lower! Nothing had changed. There was no reason for a difference in the reading. I got on a third time, and the lower reading appeared again. I’m down nearly fifteen pounds. The number has been a couple of pounds lower after a fast, but today’s measurement was after a weekend of normal eating.

Getting a miracle is confusing. The natural tendency is to keep confirming it over and over, until you can accept it. I guess that’s where I am now.

This weekend I saw Perry Stone deliver a message about Lot’s wife. I’m sure you know the story. Mr. and Mrs. Lot lived in Sodom, which was destroyed for selfishness, sexual perversion, dishonesty, mistreatment of visitors, and other sins. God warned them to get out, and they were told not to turn around. Mrs. Lot looked back–the book of Jasher says her children were being destroyed in the holocaust–and she turned into a pillar of salt, and Josephus claimed he saw the pillar later.

It’s an interesting message.

When Lot and Abraham parted ways, Lot chose the part of the land that was near Sodom. He pitched his tent toward Sodom. Perry Stone and some other preacher whose name I forget say this meant he was expressing his interest in the Sodom lifestyle. Lot eventually ended up living in Sodom, surrounded by thieves and perverts. The Bible says their filthy talk vexed him every day. It must have been like living in lower Manhattan.

If I recall Perry Stone’s message correctly, he was telling people not to look back with longing at sinful ways they had left behind.

I’ve been thinking along these lines since the fast I mentioned above. In the past, I wanted to behave in a certain way, but I couldn’t do it, because something (whether flesh or spirit) had a grip on me. Then I found myself “set free, indeed.” But I was tempted to go back. A little voice told me that when my problems blew over, it would be safe to resume living like an idiot. I had no plans to do this, but you know how thoughts are. They roam around in your head like stray dogs.

I suspect that a person whose free will is restored can’t get away with sins that wouldn’t harm an addict much. If you’re tormented by a constant urge to overeat, maybe it’s not a big deal when you break down and have a dozen doughnuts. But what if you’ve been freed by a miracle, and then you decide to eat a whole pizza? That has to be much worse. The temptation is not as powerful, so it’s a sin of will, not weakness.

So I think Perry Stone’s message was right on target, where I’m concerned. I needed to hear it. I don’t want the thought of future lapses in my head. I don’t want to plan my own failure, and I definitely don’t want to lose this.

When I got this unexpected blessing, I wanted to tell other people about it so they could get it, but as usual, I got nowhere with it. I have a horrible track record in this regard. In an email this morning, I said my miracles tend to be boring. If you can stand up and say you instantly dropped a crack habit, people will clap and churches will invite you to speak, but nobody cares when you find yourself able to turn down pizza. There are probably a lot of churches where they’d stone you, with rocks held in empty fried-chicken buckets. Christians want to hang onto that last “acceptable” vice. Many of us are gigantic.

Freedom from food addiction is a great gift. It’s huge. If I drop another fifteen pounds, it will be like taking off a lead apron.

Overeating costs you a lot. It ruins your ability to do many things, such as sports. It cuts way back on your dating pool. Like any addiction, it can make you hate yourself. It will cause people to mistreat you. If you’re married, it can wreck your sex life. It will cost you jobs, because employers like hiring skinny people. It will put a burden on the people around you. You’ll be in the way all the time. People will groan when they see you in a narrow hallway or an elevator or a doorway. They’ll have to sit in the back seat because you’re too big. You’ll crush them on airplanes, because you flow over the armrest. It’s not a trivial thing. I’m beside myself with gratitude. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I feel like God put a billion dollars in my bank account, and nobody else cares.

Here’s how I see it. Anything that controls you is evil. Right or wrong?

I’ll probably get stoned for saying things like that. But at least now I’ll have a chance of outrunning them.

I Must Decrease

I just had my weekly McDonald’s breakfast. What DO they put in this stuff? I’m positive it contains crack. I feel magnificent. Like Popeye on a spinach bender.

I can’t get over the change I’ve experienced since the fast I did a couple of weeks back. I have better control in several areas of my life, and it’s not subtle, and it’s not imaginary. The other day, I went to my church for a meeting, and I was invited to a prayer group, and I had to kill some time, so I went to Krispy Kreme. Later I told my pastor, “I worked a miracle. I had ONE doughnut.” If you, like me, are fat, you understand what I mean. Fat is what happens when you can’t stop. Something (or someone) compels you to grab that next cookie or slice or McMuffin. Sometimes you win, but over the long haul, you lose often enough to grow extra chins and require a second “fat wardrobe.” I don’t have that problem any more. It’s gone.

I started working on my weight a few weeks back, and over a fairly long time, I lost about four pounds. I did not enjoy it all that much. Now I’m down ten, and I’ve quit dieting. I used to have a thing I called “fat day.” It meant I dieted all week and ate whatever I wanted on Saturday. I don’t do that any more, because I don’t have to. I behave well enough–every day–to allow me to give up gimmicks and mind tricks. The weight is coming off because I no longer have irresistible fat inclinations.

It’s not because fasting reduces the calories I take in. I do fast once in a while, but I promise you, I can easily overcome the calorie deficit if I try. In the past, I always stuffed myself on the day after a fast, so I probably came out ahead. Muslims complain that they gain weight during Ramadan, when they fast every day. The empty days are not what make the difference for me. I just don’t have the gluttony bug any more.

I used to celebrate Saturday with a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, one or two McMuffins, three hash browns, and a large Coke. That’s enough energy to keep a small city going for a week. I told myself the third hash brown was for Maynard and Marvin, but I always got most of it. Today I had one biscuit, one McMuffin, one hash brown (minus bird donations), and a medium soda. And while I was ordering, I didn’t hear that familiar voice in the back of my head, screaming that I needed to order more food. I used to order large pizzas and eat them by myself. I don’t think I’d enjoy that today. Two or three slices…that, I could enjoy.

I think you can’t progress as a Christian if you set your heart on the things of this world and let them control you, and that includes food. The book of Proverbs says gluttony causes poverty. Did you know that? It’s not a good thing. It evidently carries a curse. That shouldn’t be a surprise, since it ruins your knees, your pancreas, your sleep, your looks, and your arteries. It costs you jobs, because people don’t like to hire fat applicants. It makes you less attractive, so you may have very limited choices when you marry. It can cause people to ostracize you socially. And it can even be expensive. Food and drink cost money, and so does insulin.

I love good food, but I have come to realize that I have to limit my involvement with it. To cook good food, you have to put in time. You have to spend many days preparing and trying dishes. It’s very tough to do that if you’re eating sensibly every day. Cooking will have to take a lower priority in my life.

Think about the calories you take in when you eat “normal” food. Two eggs, toast, butter, jelly, four strips of bacon…that’s enough food to get you through twelve hours, but you’re supposed to eat again in five. Add coffee with a little cream and sugar, and it’s around a thousand calories. A burger, fries, and a Coke…same thing. Then sit down to dinner and have a small steak, two vegetables, a roll, and a salad with dressing. By the time you’re done, it’s probably 4,500 calories. Fine, if you’re a lumberjack. Are you a lumberjack? I’m not.

I have to stay under about 2,200 calories per day, unless I’m working in the yard or something. That’s one decent meal, or three wimpy ones. No way around it. So I eat a crummy bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, I have something small for lunch, and then I have meat and two vegetables for dinner. That’s about all I can do. I can’t hang out in the kitchen every day, working on recipes for lasagne and paella. I can eat a little better on days following fasts, but I can’t be serious about cooking.

Anyway, I can’t believe God freed me from the fat curse. I’m like a week and a half away from wearing my “real clothes.” And I didn’t expect this; it wasn’t the goal I had in mind when I fasted. It must have been important to God.

If you want to see proof God does things for people, come see me eat a third of a pint of Haagen-Dazs. Fat people can’t eat a third of anything. They have to have it all.

This is the exciting thing about Christianity. We are a society of people with problems we can’t solve. We have diet books, relationship books, exercise books, addiction books…none of it works. We’re trying to fill a void only God can fill. The world is full of people who have testimonies about instant and permanent delivery from destructive habits and inclinations. You generally won’t get permanent solutions from Dr. Phil and Weight Watchers and AA (the secular version of AA, that is). You get temporary solutions that give you false hope. God has the real antidote.

We always assume Biblical references to salvation refer exclusively to our eventual trip to paradise, but I think that may be wrong. I think that’s just one aspect of salvation. I think deliverance from addiction or debt or anger or perversion is salvation. God rescues believers all the time. The rescue we get when we die is just one example. The last manifestation of a lifelong pattern. Why be satisfied with one part of the package, when you’re supposed to have the whole thing? Not perfect life, but victorious life. If it has been bought and paid for, why not make use of it?

I feel an urge to get out some jeans and see which pairs I can put on without making them explode. Maybe I should put on safety goggles to protect me from flying buttons.

More

I am wearing a pair of relatively thin jeans. I couldn’t resist the urge to try them on. They are on the tight side, but wearable.

This is just crazy.

And Then I’ll Stop

I believe today is the day to break down and buy a horizontal band saw. I have piles of metal and no way to cut it into usable pieces. I thought the dry cut saw was the answer, but I was sadly mistaken. It works great for small jobs, but big cuts dull the blade and take forever.

Looks like it’s time to drive to Northern Tool.

I could have gotten a nice used Jet cheaper, but at the time the ad was running, I had no way to bring it home.

I have to get the garage together. The whole length of my table saw top is covered in junk. During the time leading up to Yom Kippur, I am trying to repent of laziness and irresponsibility, so the garage mess has to be dealt with. Maybe I’ll set up the saw and attack the disorder.

The effects of the fast I did week before last are still with me. In addition to having more self-control, I’m down about nine pounds. And before you say it’s because there are days when I eat fewer calories, let me rain on your delusional campfire. I could fast three days a week and gain weight, because I would more than make up for it on the remaining days. If I go above two thousand calories a day, I gain weight. I can eat six thousand calories in a day without breaking a sweat. You don’t have to eat a tremendous amount of food to do it. Four pints of ice cream, for example. It’s very easy to put 2,000 calories into a meal. The reason I’m losing weight is that I eat less every day, and the reason for that is that I no longer feel the same way about food. This is no different from the testimonies of heroin addicts who have been freed instantly.

I hope I can get similar changes in other areas of my life.