Donut Theology

That delectable chocolate-glazed donut was calling my name.  As I rounded the last aisle of the grocery store for my weekly Big Grocery Run, I decided to throw caution (and my cholesterol count) to the wind and go for it. Go big or go home, I always say.  (As long as “home” isn’t my eternal home. Amen?)

Loading the trunk of the car with the groceries, I removed the beloved donut bag and stuck it in the front seat of my car to eat on the way home.

Only, I forgot how crumbly and messy those blasted donuts are. And how white shorts and chocolate glaze and… me, are never a good combination.

I almost giggled at the obvious comparison to my spiritual life.  The very act of living life can get messy.  And people crumble. And there will be those that smear their own “goodness” all over your white-as-snow self. And it’s not until I’m willing to get messy that I get to taste the actual fruits of faithfulness.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I reached for the bag. I was about to bring the first delicious morsel to my lips, as I saw another mama from town coming in.  She waved enthusiastically.  I, however, stashed that donut down below the steering wheel so fast it would’ve given you whiplash!

You see, I had forgotten that I was at the grocery store at about the same time as roughly half of the other mammas in our sleepy little town – and most of them with kids at the same school as mine attend.

While I consider myself quite confident in my person, I’m not so confident that I will blatantly each a chocolate slathered donut in the car while sidling up next to other moms at a stoplight.

Others, whose opinions sometimes matter far more to me than they should.

It was then that lesson number two hit hard.  Am I living to please (wo)men? Or my God?

Where has my focus been lately?

Clearly, it’s time to refocus on what Who is important.

And it ain’t the donut.

Indeed.

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