Gluttony

"There's an app for that"--yes, even if "that" means each one of the Seven Deadly Sins, the classic vices of Christian moral teaching.

Lust: Tinder

Gluttony: Yelp

Greed: LinkedIn

Sloth: Netflix

Wrath: Twitter

Envy: Facebook

Pride: Instagram

You can view the slide shared at the Mockingbird Festival here.

Yes, we all know we should eat healthy. But even the healthiest of diets can meet their match in an all-too-familiar enemy: stress.

A study published in Molecular Psychiatry "suggests stress can override the benefits of making better food choices." The findings were based on research in which 58 women "completed surveys to assess the kinds of stress they were experiencing" and also were given "two different types of meals to eat, on different days": one meal with plenty of saturated fat, the other a healthier option with plenty of plant-based oils. Some "counterintuitive" results came back from the experiment. According to the study's author, Janice Kiecolt-Glaser, "If a woman was stressed on a day when she got the healthy meal, she looked like she was eating the saturated fat meal in terms of her [inflammation] responses." Over time, high levels of inflammation could potentially lead to "a range of diseases."

Thankfully, NPR's coverage of the study ended on a hopeful note, alluding to "a whole range of strategies that have been shown to help manage stress," including performing kind deeds for others and what they called "perhaps the world's greatest stress reliever"—close, personal relationships.

Potential Preaching Angles: Science is showing that healthy eating may not always win out against stress, and even the best stress relievers may fail at times—but the "close, personal relationship" we have with our Savior is one that has already won against stress, fear, and even death.

A dog named Wilson was left feeling under par, after gobbling up a staggering seven golf balls. Owner Tim Norris rushed Wilson to the vet thinking his pet had swallowed a single ball at Royal Ashdown Forest Golf Club. But an X-ray revealed that Wilson, a chocolate Labrador, had actually swallowed seven balls.

"Our dog walker let Wilson off the lead," Norris said, "and we think he must have found a basket full of practice balls somewhere near the golf club. He probably thought they were dog biscuits." But when they rushed Wilson to the vet they were shocked to discover that he'd eaten seven golf balls. Norris added, "Chocolate Labradors are incredibly greedy dogs and Wilson is no different. They will eat anything they think is food. I have since bought a muzzle for him, because at 18 months he still has a lot to learn." Wilson underwent an exploratory operation at Forest Lodge to remove the golf balls (a golfballectomy?).

According to Karen Belcher, the head veterinary nurse, said, "I don't know whether the golf balls were covered in something that seemed tasty, but to eat seven he must have liked them." Belcher explained that one more ball could have ruptured Wilson's stomach and killed the dog. "Seven balls was probably the limit for him," she said.

Wilson was released from the vets' office the day after surgery and has since made a speedy recovery—though he's still in the doghouse.

The Week magazine runs a column called "What's Next?," a regular contest based on current events. In a recent issue they asked readers to submit answers to the following question:

The late TV chef Anthony Bourdain advised: "Your body is not a temple, it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride." What would be a good name for a theme park ride based on the typical American's body?

Here were some of the best answers:

• Sedentary Mountain
• Cholester-Roll
• Plumper Cars
• Tunnel of Love Handles
• The Tragic Kingdom
• The Expanding Universe
• SORRY—ride closed due to poor maintenance

The next time you watch television take note of the number of commercials about food. A recent study found that in 96 half-hour blocks of preschool programming on Nickelodeon, the Disney Channel, and Cartoon Network there were a total of 130 food-related advertisements. Children see nearly 5,000 TV food ads every year, and teenagers get bombarded by almost 6,000 annually.

But the food ads aren't just for kids. In an experiment conducted by Yale University researchers, adults who saw TV ads for unhealthy foods ate much more than those who saw ads that featured messages about good nutrition or healthy food. During the 2012 Winter Olympics, one observer noted that about half of all the ads were about food, most often for fast-food restaurants. When you add to that the rise of reality shows centered on cooking and restaurants, it seems that we are obsessed with food and eating.

Exposure to this barrage of food ads is often implicated in the rise of obesity rates, but it also has a huge impact on the spiritual discipline of fasting. In other words, it's tough to fast when you're constantly bombarded by the lure of food in our culture.

Nancy Ortberg tells the story about how their family dog, a golden retriever named Baxter, would get covered with ticks. So after doing some research about ticks, here's what she discovered:

They actually call ticks "the overeaters of the insect world." For those of you who are really technical in your biology … they're of the arachnoid family; they're not really insects.

[Ticks] have the disease of "more," and when they latch on they can't stop. Before a tick lands on its host it's not very attractive, but it is very flat. Then a tick drops onto (because they do not have the capacity to jump) from a bush or a thicket onto their host, looking for a warm-blooded creature. Once they engorge themselves with the host's blood, they balloon up to 7-10 times their normal size. They're utterly transformed.

The fascinating thing is once a tick has bloated up it automatically drops off the host and then can't move. All of the energy in its body is directed to digesting what it's just eaten. For the next few hours it is at the mercy of predators because it has eaten so much that it can't move.

Nancy Ortberg claims there can be a parallel with our spiritual lives. She says, "I have to admit that when I consider what I learned about ticks, there's a little bit of a tick in me. I can be sometimes a picture of excess, not knowing when to say 'enough,' not knowing when to stop, and always wanting more."

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Contentment vs. Discontentment—When do we ever have enough? (2) Spiritual growth—Sometimes we approach our life with Christ like the tick—ther's all intake but not opportunity to pour out to others.

Consider the foolhardy risk takers at the famous Heart Attack Grill in Las Vegas. This restaurant, known for its "flatliner fries" cooked in pure lard, butterfat shakes, no-filter cigarettes, and the "octuple bypass burger," appears to be living up to its reputation. The restaurant's most recent victim, a woman, was eating a "double bypass burger" lathered in cheese and bacon and smoking cigarettes when she collapsed and was taken to the hospital.

Owner Jon Basso said that he wishes the customer a swift and full recovery. But, he added, the woman got exactly what she asked for: a brush with death.

"We attract … thrill seekers [and] risk takers," he told the Los Angeles Times, adding that his restaurant is a "bad for you but fun" restaurant that "attracts people who don't really take good care of their health."

In 2024, the grill offers the 20,000 calorie octuple bypass burger. Basso said the Guinness World Records book contacted him Friday to say that the burger was being crowned the most caloric sandwich on Earth. The restaurant also offers free meals to people weighing more than 350 pounds.

"I tell you," said Basso, "we attract that very bleeding edge, the avant-garde of risk takers."

Possible Preaching Angle: (1) Taking Risks/Following Christ—At times following Jesus involves taking good and godly risks. Unfortunately, at times we also take foolish and ungodly risks—risks that can hurt and even destroy us. (2) Sin and Temptation—Even when we know sinful behavior is bad for us, at times we keep engaging in that activity anyway.

What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, "What does it matter so long as they are contented?" We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven—a senile benevolence who, as they say, "liked to see young people enjoying themselves," and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, "a good time was had by all."

—C. S. Lewis, in The Problem of Pain

While waiting at a traffic light with her parents in Atlanta, Georgia, Kevin and Joan Salwen's 14-year-old daughter, Hannah, saw a black Mercedes coupe on one side and a homeless man begging for food on the other. Hannah turned to her father and said, "Dad, if that man had a less nice car, that man there could have a meal."

Even as they pulled away, Hannah insisted she wanted to do something about the inequity. "What do you want to do?" her mother asked.

"Sell our house," Hannah replied.

Eventually, that's what the Salwen's did. They sold their luxurious home, donated half the proceeds to charity, and bought a modest replacement home. Though the sacrifice was great, the benefits have been greater still. A smaller house has meant a more family-friendly house. "We essentially traded stuff for togetherness and connectedness," Kevin says. "I can't figure out why everybody wouldn't want that deal."

The entire project is chronicled in an upcoming book by Kevin and his daughter, entitled The Power of Half. The aim of the book isn't to get people to sell their houses, but simply to encourage them to step off the "treadmill of accumulation"—to define themselves by what they give, and not just by what they possess. Hannah says, "For us, the house was just something we could live without. It was too big for us. Everyone has too much of something, whether it's time, talent, or treasure. Everyone does have their own half; you just have to find it."

Christ came to bring peace and we celebrate his coming by making peace impossible for six weeks of each year …. He came to help the poor and we heap gifts upon those who do not need them. —A.W. Tozer

In his book Things Unseen: Living with Eternity in Your Heart , Mark Buchanan points out how we all continually live for the "Next Thing"—the next item on our checklist of luxuries, the next job, the next adventure. As Buchanan notes, "this becomes so obsessive that we lose the capacity to enjoy and to be thankful for what we have right now. [And] this is never more apparent than at Christmastime." He writes:

I saw this close-up … when my children first got to that age when the essence of Christmas becomes The Day of Getting. There were mounds of gifts beneath our tree, and our son led the way in that favorite childhood (and, more subtly, adult) game, How Many Are for Me? But the telling moment came Christmas morning when the gifts were handed out. The children ripped through them, shredding and scattering the wrappings like jungle plants before a well-wielded machete.

Each gift was beautiful: an intricately laced dress Grandma Christie had sewn, an exquisitely detailed model car Uncle Bob had found at a specialty store on Robson Street in Vancouver, a finely bound and gorgeously illustrated collection of children's classics Aunt Leslie had sent. The children looked at each gift briefly, their interest quickly fading, and then put it aside to move on to the Next Thing. When the ransacking was finished, my son, standing amid a tumultuous sea of boxes and bright crumpled paper and exotic trappings, asked plaintively, "Is this all there is?"

Using this all-too-familiar Christmas scene, Buchanan shows how we are taught "not to value things too much, but to value them too little. We forget to treasure and to savor. The pressure of constant wanting dissipates all gratitude. The weight of restless craving plunders all enjoyment." But he adds a surprising thought—one that points to a deeper reason for our Christmas greed. He writes:

God made us this way. He made us to yearn—to always be hungry for something we can't get, to always be missing something we can't find, to always be disappointed with what we receive, to always have an insatiable emptiness that no thing can fill, and an untamable restlessness that no discovery can still. Yearning itself is healthy—a kind of compass inside us pointing to True North.

It's not the wanting that corrupts us. What corrupts us is the wanting that's misplaced, set on the wrong thing.

Jesus warned against piling up money on earth, because money comes and goes. A sad reminder of the vulnerability of money came with the June 2009 news story of an elderly woman in Israel who had hidden her life savings of one million dollars in her bed mattress. Every night she slept on one million in American dollars and Israeli shekels. She must have felt very secure with her fortune literally inches away, holding her up each night—especially since 2008 and 2009 had been disastrous years for banks and financial institutions as the world economy suffered its worst recession in decades. What's more, she had had a bad experience with a bank and had lost trust in them. Whom could she trust? No one! In fact, she did not tell even her own daughter where all that fortune was hidden.

And that was the wealthy woman's big mistake. One day her daughter decided that the mother needed a new mattress. Who knows, maybe she sat on the bed, and it felt a bit lumpy—one of those ten thousand dollar lumps perhaps—and she thought, What a cheap bed this is! She decided to replace the mattress. She wanted to present the new mattress as a surprise gift, so the new mattress was delivered without her mother's knowledge, and the old, lumpy mattress went into the garbage.

How pleased the daughter must have felt as she watched the delivery men put the new mattress in place and haul the old mattress out to the truck. Imagine the smile on her face when she brought her mother into the bedroom and presented her surprise gift. Somehow her elderly mother did not put two and two together right away. After a night of sleep on her new mattress, however, she woke up and suddenly realized what had happened to her life savings. She literally screamed.

A video news report of this story showed the daughter walking through a garbage dump hunting for the lost mattress. News reports showed workers combing through the trash as bulldozers moved piles of garbage attempting to uncover the lost treasure.

Truly there is no sure way to safeguard our worldly treasures.

Among his many virtues, [St. Francis of Assisi] is known for his passionate embrace of poverty. Not only did he forbid his emerging Order to own property, he added this discipline for each of the brothers: "Let none of the brothers … wherever he may be or go, carry, receive, or have received in any way coin or money, whether for clothing, books, or payment for work."

There were few exceptions. If a brother was sick or if someone needed medical attention, the brothers could beg for money to pay for a doctor or medicine. But other than that, they were never to touch money. In fact, they were forbidden from even being seen with a beggar who asked for money.

Francis was passionate about this rule, jealous for obedience to it: "If by chance, God forbid, it happens that some brother is collecting or holding coin or money," he wrote in his earlier rule, "let all the brothers consider him a deceptive brother, an apostate, a thief, a robber."

It was a passion without patience. According to an early collection of Francis stories, a layman entered the headquarters of the Order, Saint Mary of the Portiuncula, to pray. He also left an offering, laying some coins near the cross. Later that day, a brother saw the coins and unthinkingly picked them up and placed them on a window ledge.

Later, the brother realized what he had done. He also heard that Francis had found out. He was horrified, so he immediately rushed to Francis and implored forgiveness. He told Francis to whip him for penance.

Francis was not so easily placated. Instead, after rebuking the brother, he told him to go to the windowsill, pick up a coin with his mouth, and carry it outside. Then, with the coin still in his mouth, he was to deposit it in a heap of ass's dung. The brother obeyed gladly.

This is extreme discipleship, to say the least. But Francis knew that money was like a drug, as addictive and destructive to the soul as cocaine is to the body. Francis did not believe money could be used moderately or "recreationally" without it eventually enslaving. He believed Jesus literally: one cannot serve God and mammon (see Matt. 6:24).

In short, he was so jealous for God, so passionate about a fully realized relationship with him, that he acted in ways we consider "over the top."

In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien writes about a kingdom called Gondor which for many years has had no king. While waiting for the rightful heir to come and claim his throne, a series of stewards has been placed in charge of the land. The steward in charge at the time of the events described in the book is named Denethor. He has two sons, Boromir and Faramir, both of whom figure prominently in the story (and subsequently, in the movie). As steward of the land, Denethor had the power of the king but without the title and without the full measure of honor. He was able to make decisions and to pass judgment. He received the respect and admiration of the people of the land. His primary task was to do whatever was best for the land in the absence of its rightful ruler. In all he did he was to remember his position—to remember that he was not, and never would be, the king. As a constant reminder of his temporary position he was forbidden to rule from the king's throne. [Tolkien writes:]

Awe fell upon him as he looked down that avenue of kings long dead. At the far end upon a dais of many steps was set a throne under a canopy of marble shaped like a crowned helm; behind it was carved upon the wall and set with gems an image of a tree in flower. But the throne was empty. At the foot of the dais, upon the lowest step which was broad and deep, there was a stone chair, black and unadorned, and on it sat an old man gazing at his lap.

That man, of course, was the steward. Where the king was allowed the full honor of sitting upon the throne, surrounded by splendor, the steward was consigned to rule from a plain, unadorned chair that sat at the foot of the throne.

Denethor was not a very good steward. He dreaded the day the king would return, for he knew that with the return of the king would come his own return to obscurity. He jealously guarded the power that had been given him and did not look forward to the day when he would have to relinquish the kingdom to its rightful owner. This attitude affected his every decision, and he often ruled based on his own desire for preservation rather than on the basis of what would be best for the kingdom he was sworn to protect.

Denethor said," The Lord of Gondor is not to be made the tool of other men's purposes, however worthy. And to him there is no purpose higher in the world as it now stands than the good of Gondor; and the rule of Gondor, my lord, is mine and no other man's, unless the king should come again."

To this Gandalf replied, "Unless the king should come again? Well, my lord Steward, it is your task to keep some kingdom against that even, which few now look to see.

Denethor went beyond the care of his office and became corrupted by the enemy. His abuse of what had been entrusted to him led to his own corruption.

This concept of stewardship is one that has been largely lost to our time and our culture. We understand ownership, borrowing, leasing, and mortgaging but have little knowledge of stewardship. Yet it is a crucial concept in the Bible. Scripture tells us that we are to regard all that God gives us as if we are stewards, not owners (see, for example, Luke 12). This is true of wealth; it is true of talents; it is true of opportunities and children and spouses and property and businesses and everything else. Where God has given richly, much is expected in return. At no time does God give us full and final ownership of what he has given us. He gives us but the opportunity to be stewards of his gifts.

Stewardship is more difficult than we may think. How tightly we like to cling to those things that we regard as ours. How tightly we cling to our money and how quick we are to set our hope in the uncertainty of riches (1 Timothy 6:17). How difficult it is to release our children to the care of God, knowing that we are but stewards of them for the short time God grants them to us. How prone we are to hold fast to all of the wrong things. How hard it is for us to understand that we do not occupy the throne. No, we are those who sit in the steward's unadorned stone chair, far below, in the shadow of the throne.

Denethor held fast to the wrong things. Drunk with corruption and power and unwilling to hand over the kingdom, Denethor, steward of Gondor, eventually took his own life, ending his years of poor stewardship. He would rather die than give up the power that he thought was his. He would rather die than humble himself before the king.

Denethor's son, Faramir, took his father's place as the next in a long line of stewards. And no sooner did he do this than Aragorn, the heir to the throne, returned to Gondor. Faramir was faced with all that was so important to his father. Would Faramir be like his father? Or would he be a faithful steward? [Tolkien writes:]

Faramir met Aragorn in the midst of those there assembled, and he knelt, and said: "The last steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." …

Then Faramir stood up and spoke in a clear voice: "Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn… . Shall he be king and enter into the city and dwell there?" And all the host and all the people cried yea with one voice.

Moments later, when the new king has been crowned, it is Faramir who leads the cries of "Behold the king!"

Faramir was everything his father was not. He was a good and faithful steward who looked forward to the return of his king and who was willing and ready to hand what had been entrusted to him to its rightful owner. Faramir proved his character.

It is said that Queen Victoria, who reigned over England for over 63 years said, "I wish Jesus would come back in my lifetime. I would lay my crown at his feet." Would you do the same? Will you lead the chorus of "Behold the King!"?

God has made [our] fantasies … so preposterously unrewarding that we are forced to turn to him for help and for mercy. We seek wealth and find we've accumulated worthless pieces of paper. We seek security and find we've acquired the means to blow ourselves and our little earth to smithereens. We seek carnal indulgence only to find ourselves involved in the prevailing erotomania.

—Malcolm Muggeridge, British journalist, writer, and Christian apologist (1903-1990)

Since the 1940s, the Ad Council has been the leading producer of public service announcements. Of the thousands of commercials they have produced, their work for the "Don't Almost Give" campaign has been particularly powerful.

One ad shows a man with crutches struggling to go up a flight of concrete stairs. The narrator says, "This is a man who almost learned to walk at a rehab center that almost got built by people who almost gave money." After a brief pause, the announcer continues: "Almost gave. How good is almost giving? About as good as almost walking."

Another ad shows a homeless man curled up in a ball on a pile of rags. One ratty bed sheet shields him from the cold. The narrator says, "This is Jack Thomas. Today someone almost brought Jack something to eat. Someone almost brought him to a shelter. And someone else almost brought him a warm blanket." After a brief pause, the narrator continues: "And Jack Thomas? Well, he almost made it through the night."

Another ad shows an older woman sitting alone in a room, staring out a window. The narrator says, "This is Sarah Watkins. A lot of people almost helped her. One almost cooked for her. Another almost drove her to the doctor. Still another almost stopped by to say hello. They almost helped. They almost gave of themselves. But almost giving is the same as not giving at all."

Each ad ends with a simple, direct message: "Don't almost give. Give."

In his book The Prodigal God, best-selling author and pastor Timothy Keller offers the following story to illustrate self-centered giving:

Once upon a time there was a gardener who grew an enormous carrot. So he took it to his king and said, "My Lord, this is the greatest carrot I've ever grown or ever will grow. Therefore I want to present it to you as a token of my love and respect for you." The king was touched and discerned the man's heart, so as [the gardener] turned to go the king said, "Wait! You are clearly a good steward of the earth. I own a plot of land right next to yours. I want to give it to you freely as a gift so you can garden it all." And the gardener was amazed and delighted and went home rejoicing. But there was a nobleman at the king's court who overheard all this. And he said, "My! If that is what you get for a carrot—what if you gave the king something better?" So the next day the nobleman came before the king and he was leading a handsome black stallion. He bowed low and said, "My lord, I breed horses and this is the greatest horse I have ever bred or ever will. Therefore I want to present it to you as a token of my love and respect for you." But the king discerned his heart and said thank you, and took the horse and merely dismissed him. The nobleman was perplexed. So the king said, "Let me explain. That gardener was giving me the carrot, but you were giving yourself the horse."

To help Americans understand poverty in its truest sense, Robert L. Heilbroner, a prominent U.S. economist, itemized the luxuries most U.S. citizens would have to abandon if they were to adopt the lifestyle of their 1.2 billion neighbors who truly live in poverty:

We begin by invading the house of our imaginary American family to strip it of its furniture. Everything goes: beds, chairs, tables, television set, lamps. We will leave the family with a few old blankets, a kitchen table, a wooden chair. Along with the bureaus go the clothes. Each member of the family may keep in his "wardrobe" his oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. We will permit a pair of shoes for the head of the family, but none for the wife or children.

We move to the kitchen. The appliances have already been taken out, so we turn to the cupboards. … The box of matches may stay, a small bag of flour, some sugar, and salt. A few moldy potatoes, already in the garbage can, must be hastily rescued, for they will provide much of tonight's meal. We will leave a handful of onions, and a dish of dried beans. All the rest we take away: the meat, the fresh vegetables, the canned goods, the crackers, the candy.

Now we [strip] the [rest of the] house: the bathroom…[is] dismantled, the running water shut off, the electric wires taken out. Next we take away the house. The family can move to the toolshed. …

Communications must go next. No more newspapers, magazines, books—not that they are missed, since we must take away our family's literacy as well. Instead, in our shantytown we will allow one radio. …

Now government services must go. No more postman, no more firemen. There is a school, but it is three miles away and consists of two classrooms. … There are, of course, no hospitals or doctors nearby. The nearest clinic is ten miles away and is tended by a midwife. It can be reached by bicycle, provided that the family has a bicycle, which is unlikely. …

Finally, money. We will allow our family…$5. This will prevent our breadwinner from experiencing the tragedy of an Iranian peasant who went blind because he could not raise the $3.94, which he mistakenly thought he needed to receive admission to a hospital where he could have been cured.

In his Books & Culture article "A Lot of Lattés," Ron Sider reviews Passing the Plate: Why American Christians Don't Give Away More Money, a book "about the pitifully small charitable donations of the richest Christians in history." Sider offers a synopsis of some of the authors' findings:

If just the "committed Christians" (defined as those who attend church at least a few times a month or profess to be "strong" or "very strong" Christians) would tithe, there would be an extra 46 billion dollars a year available for kingdom work. To make that figure more concrete, the authors suggest dozens of different things that $46 billion would fund each year: for example, 150,000 new indigenous missionaries; 50,000 additional theological students in the developing world; 5 million more micro loans to poor entrepreneurs; the food, clothing and shelter for all 6,500,000 current refugees in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East; all the money for a global campaign to prevent and treat malaria; resources to sponsor 20 million needy children worldwide. [The conclusion of the authors] is surely right: "Reasonably generous financial giving of ordinary American Christians would generate staggering amounts of money that could literally change the world."

Twenty percent of American Christians (19 percent of Protestants; 28 percent of Catholics) give nothing to the church. Among Protestants, 10 percent of evangelicals, 28 percent of mainliners, 33 percent of fundamentalists, and 40 percent of liberal Protestants give nothing. The vast majority of American Christians give very little—the mean average is 2.9 percent. Only 12 percent of Protestants and 4 percent of Catholics tithe.

A small minority of American Christians give most of the total donated. Twenty percent of all Christians give 86.4 percent of the total. The most generous five percent give well over half (59.6 percent) of all contributions. But higher-income American Christians give less as a percentage of household income than poorer American Christians. In the course of the 20th century, as our personal disposable income quadrupled, the percentage donated by American Christians actually declined.