Gluttony and self love.

It’s my first day of vacation. Part of me feels like I should apologize for writing this after drinking a margarita and eating grouper by the pool. But, I needed this. And not just the vacation… or the sun and warmth and beach and waves (Florida girl in Ohio probs) but quiet with God. I decided this vacation would not be in vain. I wouldn’t just consume the days and blink and be back in the snow. I would chase slow. I would be quiet. I would rest my soul.

It’s only day one, but I pulled my extroverted self away from family hangs at the pool and walked to the water. I got my butt sandy and I just sat there. Going to be real honest… It’s a lot easier to be grateful to God on Captiva Island than in Pickerington, Ohio. So I sat. I listened. I prayed. I walked back to the pool and couldn’t wipe the cheesy grin from my face. I was doing it. I was connecting back with God and it tasted better than a poolside meal.

It’s 1:39 in the afternoon and my people are conked out in the hotel room. That’s not the kind of rest I’m after though. So I sneak to the beach again. It hits me.

I’m acting like glutton for God right now.


I have been searching for sermons and blogs on food and God. There aren’t a lot. (Which is crazy to me.) But one I clicked on said that my self admitted food addiction/gluttony/body image issues and the like are actually self love issues. You read that right. Every time I hear it in my head again I scoff at the audacity of such a statement. “Self love?” I roll my eyes and assume it was written by some out of touch old man. Because I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever met a woman who truly loved herself, though I hear such a creature exists—and she’s probably on instagram in a bikini and I’m not jealous at all by it. Sarcastic face.

Now, your turn to scoff at me. I’ve replayed it over and over in my head. And hear me out.. I fear, imaginary old out of touch man might be right.

I’m going to swish this idea around in my mouth some more but I wanted to start the dialogue with you so you could begin to do the same. When my day feels like more than I can bear so I order a pizza to eat alone at 8pm—is that me loving myself? Or me loving God? Expand that… me obsessing over how I look in a bathing suit or what I can or can’t eat next, who am I serving? Self? Or God? All that time walking by a mirror cursing my image—is that really self-centeredness just disguised at self deprecating. The term “self love” I’m still struggling to swallow, but when I compare how much I’m consumed with thoughts of me versus Him—it actually doesn’t seem so far off.

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