The Lord or the Latte

     I have been thinking lately about my water bottle. I'm one of the few people I know who actually like drinking water. We have well water, so it tastes good besides being good for you, and I drink a lot more water when I have a bottle handy than I ever did out of a glass. When I drink out of a glass, I tend to sip a little and dump the rest. With the bottle, I take a sip here and a sip there until it's all gone. Until--I can't believe I drank the whole thing. So what's the problem? With a water bottle always at hand, I never know the discomfort of thirst. Being a middle-aged American, comfort is my middle name. I live in a comfortable house, sleep in a comfortable bed, drive a comfortable car and can afford almost anything I want in order to be even more comfortable. But it is not God's plan for his children to be comfortable, often is it just the opposite. Look at the tempting job offer Jesus made Paul in Acts 9, with special emphasis on the word suffer.
     I don't enjoy suffering, and I seldom have to, but maybe I need to. Maybe having all my wants and needs supplied is making me too soft to be a soldier. Not that I'm complaining. After all, it was not my idea to be born in a place and time of plenty. God chose this land of hot showers and lattes for me. I just don't want to find myself loving the Lord less than the lattes. I have never belonged to a church that practices giving up something for Lent, although as a Mormon child I fasted the first Sunday of every month. Ironically, the church in which I was saved had a potluck the first Sunday of the month, a dietary demonstration of the contrast between law and grace.  But I have friends who talk about giving up chocolate (ouch!) or all sugar (gasp!) for Lent, and I wonder if  I should set aside a time to deliberately deny myself some comfort. Could I even survive a month without chai?
     I still carry a water bottle with me, but am trying to leave it in the car when I go to church and BSF. How thirsty can I get in two hours anyway?  And some days I practice the "Poor Woman's Diet", which differs from the "Pioneer Woman's Diet" in that instead of eating foods only available to pioneer women, I eat as if I didn't have money to dine out or buy a frappe. In other words, the diet I followed of necessity while we were trying to raise a family on one income. This may be only a token step toward self denial, but it is a reminder to get off Connie's Continual Comfort Channel where it's always ME Time and pursue the mind of Christ, one small sip at a time.