Faith Without Works
There's a vast gulf fixed between mental assent to a good idea and behavior that demonstrates genuine belief. I'm talking about being fat, here. Every single time I read an article about good health practices such as exercise and dietary restraint, I agreed whole-heartedly. When on television I see skinny people, I say to myself, "Well, there you go. Do like that." And then shortly I find myself somehow situated in front of the screen with an open bag of chips in hand. At meal time I do not choose to eat lettuce, cauliflower, a glass of water, a straw, and a toothpick. I eat something lip-smacking good. So I think that if I were to be honest, I'd have to confess that I truly believe in being fat. Mental assent is worth nothing. I am a practicing fat person.
You know, I'm probably a complete reprobate from good sense if I were to conduct a morality audit. The fact that I 'm not an enthusiastic practitioner of every possible vice probably has more to do with lack of energy/inclination/opportunity than with high personal standards. I'm completely uninterested in crack or in pornography or in actual promiscuity, gossip sounds boring, the very idea of gambling is a yawner, see no point whatsoever in smoking, could not possibly be less attracted to any of that. So it's not a credit to me that I don't fall into those ways to be bad. I'm not tempted. Macaroni and cheese, however, oh, yeah. Mashed potatoes and gravy, wahoo. A double cheeseburger, mmmmhm. Big sack of wavy potato chips/dill pickle chips/cheetos/salt and vinegar chips/doritoes, absolutely.
Once I heard a sermon during which the minister said, "The greatest part of this congregation would not lose a second of opportunity to castigate one of the church's young people for misbehavior such as partying and promiscuity. A kid caught doing either of those things would never live down the shame nor would his/her parents. This needs to stop. Reason? The only explanation for the fact that you old folks are not out and about raising hell on weekends is that you are too tired, lumpish, inert, and just plain unattractive." Had a point. Given that my moral fiber is not sufficient to carry me past potato chips, I'm in no shape to point fingers of scorn toward those tempted in other ways.
You know, I'm probably a complete reprobate from good sense if I were to conduct a morality audit. The fact that I 'm not an enthusiastic practitioner of every possible vice probably has more to do with lack of energy/inclination/opportunity than with high personal standards. I'm completely uninterested in crack or in pornography or in actual promiscuity, gossip sounds boring, the very idea of gambling is a yawner, see no point whatsoever in smoking, could not possibly be less attracted to any of that. So it's not a credit to me that I don't fall into those ways to be bad. I'm not tempted. Macaroni and cheese, however, oh, yeah. Mashed potatoes and gravy, wahoo. A double cheeseburger, mmmmhm. Big sack of wavy potato chips/dill pickle chips/cheetos/salt and vinegar chips/doritoes, absolutely.
Once I heard a sermon during which the minister said, "The greatest part of this congregation would not lose a second of opportunity to castigate one of the church's young people for misbehavior such as partying and promiscuity. A kid caught doing either of those things would never live down the shame nor would his/her parents. This needs to stop. Reason? The only explanation for the fact that you old folks are not out and about raising hell on weekends is that you are too tired, lumpish, inert, and just plain unattractive." Had a point. Given that my moral fiber is not sufficient to carry me past potato chips, I'm in no shape to point fingers of scorn toward those tempted in other ways.
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