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Temptation is a Roundtrip Ticket

Temptation is a Roundtrip Ticket

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Published by Thom Hunter
It all begins with "T." Temptation. In the time it takes to buy a ticket on the temptation railroad, "don't go there," becomes "been there, done that." Then you find that while you enjoyed the scenery, you forgot to get the t-shirt, so you hop back on and you're halfway 'round the bend before you realize you boarded. Donuts anyone?

Temptation is like an eating disorder of the soul. Want . . . need . . . eat . . . throw up, and wallow in the misery of purging and swear you will never do it again. Wait . . . is that a donut?
It all begins with "T." Temptation. In the time it takes to buy a ticket on the temptation railroad, "don't go there," becomes "been there, done that." Then you find that while you enjoyed the scenery, you forgot to get the t-shirt, so you hop back on and you're halfway 'round the bend before you realize you boarded. Donuts anyone?

Temptation is like an eating disorder of the soul. Want . . . need . . . eat . . . throw up, and wallow in the misery of purging and swear you will never do it again. Wait . . . is that a donut?

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Published by: Thom Hunter on Aug 20, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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08/29/2010

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by Thom Hunter --
I wish I'd heard Christ in His gardenOr walked beside Him by the sea To hear him directly speak my pardonAs I touched His robe to be set free.I wish I'd sat around the tableSo He could pass the cup to me.Or saw the star above the stableAnd the manger where He'd be.I wish I'd helped Him bear His crossAnd stepped inside His empty tomb,And traced the scars that cover lossAs I knelt in the upper room.But I never saw the shining star or heard the baby cry.And I wasn't in the garden, or ever heard those poundingnails.I couldn't help Him bear that cross or climb the hill on whichHe'd dieI never walked the beach or sat with Him beneath the boat'sfull sails.
 
 Yet when I weep within
my 
garden or in
my 
lonely roomAnd trace these scars that slowly heal on me,Because Christ slept in a stable and stepped out from a tombHe is here to take these storm-tossed steps with me.-- Thom HunterWhen I was about nine, I was a door-to-door donut salesman.My job was to smile really cute from under my folded paperhat when the housewives answered the door . . . and make alittle speech and hold out a bag of chocolate-covered donutswith a "your husband will never even know because you canpolish them off before he gets home" look. I would havegone up against any door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesmanin a heartbeat. My maple creams against your Hoover.I don't know, maybe that's where I got the impression thatlife was just a sugar covered donut. The "you can't eat justone" philosophy. Maybe it was also the deep explanation of temptation I received as a child, surrounded by mentorsaddicted to cigarettes, alcohol, gambling . . . whatever. Thegeneral implication was that we really were tempted onlytowards good things. Just ask the Marlboro Man. We justneeded to be careful, because "too much of a good thing" isnot a good thing. But . . . it's still good.No. Most of the things to which we are tempted are notgood and not good for us. And I'm not talking about donuts,as if the solution is as simple as celery. I'm talking, in thecontext of this blog, about sexual addiction. It's addictive,but rarely in a good way, and much like donuts make youfat, cigarettes hasten death, gambling keeps the babybarefoot and alcohol and drugs deplete the brain cells,sexual addiction -- whether same or opposite, real-timeor celluloid -- claims who you were and gives you adisgusting and warped semi-clone in return. Addictionseems to be dependent on perversion, the powder on thedonut, so-to-speak.
 
And it all begins with "T." Temptation. In the time it takes tobuy a ticket on the temptation railroad, "don't go there,"becomes "been there, done that." Then you find that whileyou enjoyed the scenery, you forgot to get the t-shirt, so youhop back on and you're halfway 'round the bend before yourealize you boarded. Donuts anyone? Temptation is like an eating disorder of the soul. Want . . .need . . . eat . . . throw up, and wallow in the misery of purging and swear you will never do it again. Wait . . .is
that 
a donut?Who put that donut out there?And then . . . who are you to tell me that I cannot have adonut.And . . . how dare you judge me. All I had was a measlydonut. It wasn't even that good.I deserved a donut. I needed a donut. But I definitely havebeen satisfied now and I will never ever eat another donut.Why in the world did I eat
another 
donut? Then . . . well, it was
 just 
a donut. Yes, I should have knownbetter, but this donut was different. Now that I know . . . Iwon't eat any more donuts.Wait . . . is
that 
a donut?Okay . . . I guess I'm just one of those persons who is madeto eat donuts. I can't help it. It's just who I am.No you're not. Yes you can. No, it's not.
No temptation has seized you except what is common toman. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He

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