I’ve decided that I can’t take it any more. It’s time to come out of the closet. It is with the greatest of trepidation that I announce that I can no longer let my spirit be crammed into the confines of a small room designed for stuffed shirts and moldy shoes. I must gain my freedom by being true to my own self as Emerson recommended (the philosopher not the rock singer who hung out with Lake and Palmer) and proclaiming to the world just exactly who I am. I, Donald James Parker, am a glutton. I realize that I will probably shock all four of my fans, but this was a risk I just had to take.
Those who speak French might be aware that glutton is the French word for wolverine. I am in no way trying to demonstrate allegiance to the maize and blue wolverines from Ann Arbor. That would be one confession that I’d bury in the basement of the closet–as deep as possible.
Yes, despite the admonition of the Bible, I am choosing the lifestyle that obviously the Lord created me for. If it was wrong for me to do this, surely it would not feel so good. And surely I’d be forced to discard my pants with the thirty-two inch waistline. Despite my desire to live according to the Bible, it has become clear that such self discipline is just not part of my genetic makeup. God made me to love and enjoy food.
I did not make this decision lightly or in a vacuum. I consulted with some renowned pastors to get their approval of my declaration. Pastor Pillsbury encouraged me that not all Christians are judgmental and that those who really love Jesus will support me in this matter. He informed me that he is very proud of me. Bishop Burger King comforted me with his advice that the Bible is not meant to be read literally. He reminded me that people who believe that gluttony is a sin often quote scripture out of context to try to condemn those they hate, and whom they want God to punish.
I want to publically apologize to my wife for two timing her. After her hard work in the kitchen three times a day, I have been cheating down at the local Hardees, where I’ve signed up for their subscription plan. I’ve also kept a stash of crunchies and munchies hidden in my computer desk. Until my confession, she suspected I was leaving our bed at night to visit the computer so I could look at all my beautiful female friends on Facebook.
I now enjoy the peace that passes all understanding since I threw the monkey of shame off my back. My spirit rejoices in being entirely free of the guilt that plagued me every time that I told the burgarista that not all of the eight hamburgers I ordered were for me. And now I sing a brand new song (well actually an old Sammy Davis song) I Gotta Be Me. Hey, what else can I be but what I am? Right. I’m a Christian glutton.
Hold on just a second please. OK, I’m back. Had to grab a little snack.
I realize that not all Christians are going to accept me after this declaration. I’m sure many will close their dining room doors and if somehow, they are forced to allow me into their pantry, they will watch over me like a heresy hunter. That’s just the price I have to pay for being honest and transparent and just being the “me” that God created. My preclusion of dying to self and being molded into the image of Christ does not dilute my love for Jesus. I still wear my “Jesus rocks!” t-shirts as I wolf down a bag of Doritos and inhale a 2 liter bottle of Pepsi. Now please excuse me as I return to the kitchen where I’ll be dreaming of the cuisine in Heaven as I grill a few sausages and watch the Food Channel.
Next week in my column, I’ll be interviewing a Christian kleptomaniac, a Christian prostitute, and a Christian hit man who have recently come out of the closet to proclaim their allegiance to Jesus while at the same time asserting their own personality.