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Glass Idols

Each morning begins the same way. It begins with worship.

But not the kind of worship you might be thinking.

Each morning, I roll out of bed and go immediately to the shrine I have established in my bathroom. A little blue scale.

If yesterday I sacrificed an offering of oatmeal raisin cookies on the altar and demonstrated my devotion by paying penance at the gym, then today the weight gods will reward me with a favorable number. But if I, instead, ate my offering and skipped my penance, then I will be punished with a less than favorable number.

More than I would like to admit, my happiness rises and falls with that number.

It is nothing short of worship.

But this god of mine is far too small. It cannot love me or care for me. It cannot comfort me or encourage me. It cannot listen to me or cry with me.

It cannot die for me.

In fact, it is really no god at all.

So today I disassembled my shrine. The scale is gone. My glass idol lies shattered at the bottom of a garbage truck.

Tomorrow, my day will begin quite unlike it has of late. With worship, still, but of a different kind. You see, everything I have belongs to the God who gave everything for me.

My life.

My heart.

My body.

My worship.

If you are worshiping anything less than that God who made you and loves you and died for you, then your god is far too small. Maybe it's time to shatter your glass idol- whatever that may be.

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