Faith, Food, & Hulkamaniacs

Secret dream job: WWE ring announcer.  Not color commentary, just introductions.  Pro wrestling is not a guilty pleasure of mine.  The KoF does not partake, but as a kid I allocated way too many hours to the sorta sport.  So, I used to partake.  Plus, I sound like a ring announcer or possibly Shock G from Digital Underground.  Either way, given my knowledge base and sideshow voice, I’m uniquely qualified. 

The pursuit of this gig is futile.  It would add nothing to my faith.  I try to make that a measuring stick for my life.  Sports entertainment (that’s what it’s apparently called now) does, however, teach us a great deal about faith and also people.  It turns out that people like to watch a wrestling match, even if it is a fake one. Sometimes, they like to participate.

Last year, Americans spent approximately $46 Billion on weight loss related products.  The amount of money estimated to solve the world water crisis = $10 Billion.  As a country, we spend 4.6 times as much money because of our overindulgence as it would take to give basic dignity to people who have nothing. What’s even more troubling is that the weight loss money is a yearly amount.  It repeats.  It never stops.  It will always continue because, as a culture, we like to put on a fake wrestling match.  We put on a show or even fight a little for a short period of time to try to make up for a lifetime of negative decisions.  We give the impression that we’re trying.  Maybe we do that because real fights hurt.  You can lose a real fight.  

I’ve done a lot of wrestling with my faith.  Not eating at a restaurant is a spiritual wrestling match.  Our relationship with food is a spiritual matter.  To deny myself of something I really enjoy is a fast.  One of the things a fast does is transfer your dependence from stuff, in this instance food, to a dependence on God.  Fasting is scary.  It has been scary because I start to wonder what other things that  I can live without that previously I thought I couldn’t live without.  Fasting is difficult.  It’s a real fight.  I still go to restaurants, I just don’t eat or drink anything from there.  Rolls smell good.  The garlicky aroma of a well-baked breadstick is hard to resist.  Chips and salsa are old friends of mine.  I like my oatmeal lumpy. Fasting’s reward is much greater than than the fleeting glory of even the best prepared appetizer.

The following contest (this life) is scheduled for one fall (one life).  Only one chance to learn, to grow, and to change the world.  So I fast.  I learn.  I grow.  When I’m no longer learning or growing as a result of this fast, I’ll move on.  But, today, I did not eat at a restaurant.