Easily Excitable

I would like to begin by saying that January is a stupid time to start a new resolution, habit, life change, etc. 

Not stupid for you- of course not! Stupid for me. 

Who decided January was a good time for that in the first place??

I just think that there are big holidays and celebrations in January, so maybe move all that gusto to February? Maybe?

I can’t Really say much about the schedule of resolutions, as I decided to Abstain from them this year. 

Instead, I’m trying to set small goals throughout. See, at the beginning of 2024, I began with lofty expectations, but I seem to have lost some of my discipline of old, and I successfully failed on each of those resolutions. 

It broke me. 

So this year, here in 2025, I have no whole-year resolutions: I do have some smaller-timelined-goals, but I think that’s where I’ll stay. Here’s the truth:

12 months is just a long time to carry out anything.

Rather than doing things, I have some phrases I hope will guide me spiritually this year. These aren’t lofty goals, and they aren’t ‘checklist’ resolutions.

Moreso, they’re about attitude.

This first phrase is this: 

Come hungry. 

That is my goal for how I want to approach the throne of God this year. 

I want to be hungry, and I would prefer to have this hunger without the involvement of a Grade-A disaster.

Because, really, isn’t that when we (read: me) are hungriest for God? 

When do we (read: I) want Him to show up and act the most? 

It’s in the moments where, naturally, we have messed everything up, and we need God to get us out of a bind. 

Or, maybe, it’s a situation where we didn’t have anything to do with the mess we’re in: rather, just the brokenness of people around us or life in general that spun us out. 

Those are the moments where I’m most likely to seek out God and implore Him to talk to me and act on my behalf. 

That’s when I’ll come hungry to hear his voice and see Him move.

My hope is that I will have that hunger uninitiated by an SOS.

I hope that, daily, I will come hungry to hear and to know and to learn about my God. 

This isn’t unlike physical hunger: I’ve been rolling that around in my mind over the past couple of days.

For example

When I’m on my holiday diet, my knees ache. 

I feel lazy and lethargic.

I’m not as focused. 

Running becomes increasingly more difficult.

My heart rate goes up. 

I gain weight.

My skin breaks out.

To compound the issue, when I’m eating all the junk, I’m not doing the things I know I should be doing.

I don’t drink my water. I’m not hitting my protein goals.

By indulging on the ‘treat foods,’ I cut out the good stuff. 

It’s not unlike my spiritual life, really. 

How many times are my cheeks stuffed and my stomach distended on the things this world tells me are important?

Case in point: appearance, happiness, approval, money, power, comfort, having fun, keeping up with other people, experiences, stuff.

These things are fast food for the soul, really.

We, like anyone who might indulge in a strict diet of Twinkies and french fries, get heavy, lazy, and greasy. 

For a time that works: we are getting nutrients of some sort to keep us upright. But a body longs for good food, and a soul longs for good nourishment. 

Filled up on our own indulgences and idols, everything we touch has a little grease stain on it. Or a little cheese dust from our bag of Cheetos. 

That’s the thing about filling our souls up with junk: it starts to leave little stains, little effects, on everything else in our lives. 

Furthermore, the interesting thing about the fast food diet our culture consumes is this: 

We can never get enough. 

For example, let’s take scrolling on the phone.

You can start with plans to look at something specific. 

Then, two hours later, you’re two miles deep and totally consumed in some conspiracy theory. Or trying to figure out what happened to so-and-so’s marriage, or wondering what ever happened to that gal you graduated with- what was her name? 

Scrolling feeds scrolling.

I’ll give you another, more personal example.

Yay. 

In different times of my life, I have really wrestled with body image. This wrestling is probably something I will engage in on and off for the rest of my life.

That’s a vulnerable admission.

There have been times when I’ve been a little heavier and I liked myself less: there have been times when I was thinner and liked myself more. 

That, folks, is what we call an idol. 

Meals could get really tricky, as did my relationship with the gym. 

See, I want the desire to exercise because I want to get stronger, but in reality, there have been a lot of times when I would go to the gym to punish myself or try to ‘work off’ calories. 

That’s not healthy. 

But in those moments, my fixation on my appearance and my weight was insatiable: it was a focus 24/7. And no matter what I looked like, there was always some unattainable version of myself I was working toward.

Caring about how you look isn’t a bad thing. Only caring about how you look is. 

At the end of the day, these stints of hyperfixation on how I looked had one impact: it made me more selfish.

A spiritual junk food leaves a stain everywhere it goes, and its cravings can never really be satisfied. 

Another thing about spiritual junk food: 

It’s mass-produced. 

Culture creates things that might *seem* specific to us, but really, there is no personal connection there. Our idols and indulgences cannot give us anything that is tailor-made with our name on it. 

Case in point: buying stuff. 

None of us would say no to more money. More money= more stuff and more experiences. 

Now, it looks like money and what it brings us is personalized because we all spend money on different things. 

It’s not unlike your ability to add bacon to your Quarter Pounder. 

But at the end of the day, if our lives are consumed with the fleeting and fake satisfaction of getting a new toy or going on new trips, we land in the same place: something feels off and amiss. 

We are all equally left with the same spiritual discomfort, regardless of our religion or lack thereof.

No matter how you dress it up, a Quarter Pounder is still a mass-produced Quarter Pounder. 

Interesting that the opposite of fast food is a home-cooked meal. 

Think of the special pound cake your grandmother bakes, the ribs your uncle grills, the strawberry pretzel salad your aunt makes. 

Those holiday foods- the special occasion meals. These are one-of-a-kind dishes and meals that require time and effort and love. 

There is no mass production here. 

Everyone has their own recipe for mac’n’ cheese. And they’re all a little bit different.

The things this world offers for us are mass produced: money, fun, selfishness, approval. But God isn’t like that: He speaks uniquely to each of us. 

He has uniquely wired each of us; He has uniquely and thoughtfully placed us. 

What a wonder that we can come Hungry to the throne of God. 

That He would want us there and want us to come needy for Him is beyond me.

We can come hungry, and we can be satisfied at the feet of Jesus. He’s not a quick hit that comes with a crash. 

To us, Jesus offers forgiveness, companionship, direction, purpose, counsel, freedom, love. 

The cost was Himself. 

He doesn’t hurt us: his impact will never lead us to be worse off than before. He doesn’t sabotage us like the things of this world. 

Jesus is never formulaic in His dealings with us: rather, He’s going to pour into us uniquely and have different paths for each of us. 

He is the home-cooked meal, every time. 

What a wonder, being that He is the Bread of Life.

So, this year, may I avoid filling my soul with the junk food so that, when I approach my God, I come hungry.